My great grandparents are from Hungry, so when I say I have Gypsy blood I’m totally serious. My great grandfather made a living selling ice from a horse-drawn buggy in Pennsylvania, and I bet he could sell ice on the coldest of days. The thrill of the deal has been with me ever since I scored a case of beer in The Bahamas on a remote island we were anchored off of when I was five. My parent’s enthusiasm for me explaining how thirsty my cruising parents were was infectious. Years later, dressed as Wonder Woman I sold coloring book pages for two dollars a piece from my busy Longmeadow, Massachusetts sidewalk knowing each page was more than the sale-priced book. I went to grade school with a boy named Zamont who sold snails in milk cartons around the playground. I can remember thinking he was a genius as I clutched a My Little Pony.
[Olive playing with her tiny grey Barbie laptop because it’s just like Mama’s Apple].