I was walking this morning with Anne and she was talking about this project management class she was taking. She was explaining formulas for productivity and time management of projects. I tried to follow along and knew deep inside me that I was glad I had decided to forgo franchising. I do not have the mind of a business woman.

Here's my newest scheme. I am going to hire myself out to write people's personal essays based on interviews with them. My first customer is my friend Evelyn. For her 75th birthday, I wrote her essay as a gift - and as advertisement. Tonight I am hosting a surprise birthday party for her and expect more people than will comfortably fit in my house. I have my fingers crossed that the rain will hold off. So I'm hoping to get my next assignment based on word of mouth. Many of her Senior Chorale buddies will be in attendance.

I'm not sure what CG I can make out of this: Collector of Gems?

My essay about Evelyn is over 3500 words. Rather than include the whole story, I am sharing an excerpt. Maude is Evelyn's mother. You will see that Evelyn enjoyed her share of youthful shenanigans.

Maude wasn’t the only woman in town popping popcorn, but hers was the only popcorn the older children dared to eat. There was a woman who had a small house on the edge of the four block business district, not far from the courthouse, who had another source of income in the evenings. Although details were never discussed, the town knew what services were offered there after dark. In the days before television and in times when the only entertainment was what you could find to do for free, the teenagers in the town found a way to pass some of the slow summer evenings.

There was nothing remarkable about the appearance of this business woman. She was thin and haggard looking. No one could afford or even had access to make up. She had no family in town and did not participate in the town’s community events in any official capacity. However, everyone knew her business signals. When she was open for business, she propped a broom against her porch. If a customer entered, he would turn that broom so the head faced up. It seems sometimes that the signal got crossed.

Evelyn was a good girl, so she never touched that broom. She did watch with other young teenagers a block or so away as one daring mischief maker would sneak up and turn that broom back down. Then they would watch until another customer entered. Even though everyone knew who patronized this woman, no one like to be caught with their hand in the cookie jar. When the signals were crossed, two men would flee the house in opposite directions, hoping they hadn’t been identified. Through their eyes squinting with laughter, Evelyn and her friends identified the various men of their town. They later found that these men were the most generous when collecting pledge money for various school fundraisers. The only prompt needed was a mention of a broom handle.