Taking on the Big Town

Today, I was in Bellingham, the first time I'd been off the Point in about 3 weeks.  A little stir crazy, perhaps?  Hard to know.  I was doing some ordinary shopping in the fabric store down there, looking for some specialized thread which I was not finding.  On the other hand, I did find a kind of hand-quilting thread I particularly like that nobody wants to buy anymore because nobody much hand-quilts.  So, I picked up one spool of a color I'm currently out of.  When I need another color, these spools will still be there, still priced at $1/spool.  They might as well be giving them away.  But I didn't need them all, just that one color.

And so I found myself standing in a kind of long checkout line with a coupon for 30% off of a spool of $1.00 thread.  Two other women in line next to me also were making negligible purchases and I suggested to them that we each buy a $1.00 cardboard tiara covered with sequins (available nearby), and demand that we get a special (and shorter) line because we were princesses.  We laughed about the picture of us all in our tiaras, demanding privileges commensurate with our positions.  But, as we moved up in the line, only I picked up a tiara: blue to match my eyes.  I put it on and they both agreed it looked great with my hair.  I can hardly even imagine what such a judgment might mean.  I scarcely know what color my hair is any more and I don't spend a lot of time in front of mirrors trying to figure it out, but I nevertheless went up to the checkout counter, paid my $1.00 for the spool of thread and $.70 for my princess headgear (that's what I used my 30% off coupon for).

In the car, I put the tiara on and drove off to my favorite Bellingham store, Trader Joe's.  Got a parking place immediately (the privileges of princesses, I guess), and walked up to the door, where two shoppers asked me why I was wearing a crown.  "Not a crown; a tiara.  I'm not a queen; just a princess."  And we pursued that a little.  Then we parted and I went into the store and lurked around the vegetables to assess what I wanted.  One of the store managers came up to me and asked, "Is it your birthday?"  "No," I replied.  "I'm a princess."  She laughed with delight, and went on her way.

I wander through the store, picking up this and that, and maybe 8 or 9 people stop me and ask if it's my birthday.  Each time, I reply, "No, I'm a princess."  And some people want to pursue it further, while others just laugh and leave, calling out, "Good for you!"

And then the store manager reappears with a bouquet of pink flowers and tells me they are a gift from Trader Joe's because, "I have made her day."  Well, gosh, I think she must have made MY day, too!  So now I'm wandering around with a tiara and flowers, and yet have more stores to go to, more places to discuss with perfect strangers why I am wearing a sequinned cardboard tiara and whether or not it is my birthday.

I ended my peregrinations back at the hospital in order to pick up Ed who was at a doctor appointment and on our way out, somebody else with a doctor appointment inquired as to why I was wearing a crown.  I clarified the name and explained that I was a princess but that he wouldn't necessarily know that if I weren't wearing my tiara.  "Oh," he responded, "I'd know you were something because of that big sunflower you are wearing."  Extemporizing, I hinted that I was also a Goddess of Summer. He nodded and we discussed his growing up in East Texas where the fields of sunflowers grew every summer as far as the eye could see.  "Yes," I replied as if the sunflowers were my own work, "and the fields of canola up in the middle of Canada.  More glories."

And we went on home.  Proving, I guess, that maybe I ought to get off the Point more often, or that a little bit of performance art will still go a long ways.  And my special thanks to the TJ's manager for the lovely flowers.  People are sometimes so gracious that it takes my breath away.    Or maybe that's just how royalty always gets treated.