I guess you could say we live in a fairly artsy neighbourhood. Well, there are a few adjectives that describe our neighbourhood – I’ve also heard ‘eccentric’ used quite frequently.
One of the nice things about having a baby in a stroller is that it gives you permission to say things like “What’s this, then?” out loud when you’re walking down the street, and not seem like a crazy person. (I’m quite certain I won’t be able to break the habit of saying things out loud when I no longer have a small child keeping me company, and will then officially join the other “eccentrics” in the neighbourhood, but for now, I’m just an observant mother pointing out things of interest to her offspring.) Yesterday, this giant purse on a lawn was the main item of interest. Clearly more so to me than to my 13 month-old, who, I’m thinking at this stage of life doesn’t understand that giant purses on lawns aren’t the norm. For all she knows, some giantess carefully deposited it before hopping down the street for a swim in the Strait of Juan de Fuca.
We were on our way to pick up my eldest from her bus stop. I hadn’t dropped her off in the morning, so I didn’t know if the giant purse was a new installation or not.
I love the daily stroll home from the bus stop. Often we stop in at our favourite little grocery store for an after-school snack, and we have good chats. Yesterday the shop was stocking treats made by Cold Comfort, a local artisan ice cream maker. We munched on the too-good-to-resist-even-in-cooler-weather coffee ice-cream sandwiched between two vanilla bean macarons as we approached the giant purse.
G: What’s that?
Me: Oh, that’s a giant purse. Wasn’t it there this morning?
G: No. That’s definitely new.
We then stopped to chat with another art admirer, discuss how it was made, and take a few photos. I made G stand next to the bag for perspective, not that it was really necessary with the houses right behind. After a few minutes we went on our way, the poor baby silently signing “more” as we strolled, because we were in the habit of buying fresh blackberries at the store and feeding them to her on the way home, but blackberry season is over, and we weren’t sharing our Cold Comfort. Conversation turned back to the ice cream.
G: Is that all she (Ms. Cold Comfort) does – make ice cream?
Me: No, I think she works at Fol Epi too.
G: (Gasp.) Best. Life. Ever.
I couldn’t disagree.