The paintings were hung in the gallery, invitations mailed, the press alerted. All was ready for my friend’s first showing of her artwork. The gallery owner then posed the inevitable question; Setting prices on the paintings.
True to the commonly held art-is-above-such-things sympathies of artists, my friend hadn’t thought about such real world details. Nor did she want to. But the starving artist phenomenon provided sharp impetus. And so, she translated each painting into something she could wrap her brain around: Car payments.
“I will part with this one for two car payments, that one for three…” It’s where the rubber meets the road, or where the pain of parting with something you lovingly created is outweighed by the necessity of meeting the costs of living.
And so it goes that I, likewise, have a beautifully simple measure of value, of trade, close at hand: Cuckoo clocks.
This is the day we’ve been waiting for. Comet, my first Golden Retriever (mix) foster (I failed fostering!), passed the last of his vet tests. He came through heart worm treatment with flying colors. His silky coat is growing back in way beyond the expectations of the vet. And he has now had two clean skin scrapes, so the mange is officially behind him. He’s ready for adoption. There’s no question that he and I are it! So, now I need to pay for him.
Finding myself in reinvention mode, money is extremely tight. Can I afford him? Not really. Can I not keep him? No way. This predicament reminded me of my friend’s story from years ago, making this a very simple matter:
I need to sell four cuckoo clocks in order to adopt Comet.
Swapping four clocks that will make four quilters smile every time they hear them seems fair trade for a Golden who, with his 100`% happy Golden heart, wagging-and-more-wagging tail, and ever-present tennis ball in his mouth, tells me all day every day, “Play ball with me a minute. It makes everything okay. Throw it and you’ll see!”
Four quilters, four Quilt Shop Cuckoo Clocks. Yes Comet, I can do this!