I just emailed my son about this, because it is -- or was -- a conundrum of epic proportions.
It started this way:
Every week after our volunteer night shift has ended, a group of my favourite women and I scoot about town trying out the various gelato/granita stores. (One store per week, I mean, not all at once.) The very first place we went to, in fact, is on Mount Pleasant Road -- they have a lemon granita that is to die for -- tart enough that it burns all the way down. Among all the other intolerances I have, I am lactose intolerant, so I am always happy to see dairy-free treats with my name written all over them.
This all means that over the past four weeks I have been to Il Gelatiere as many times, three times with mareseatoats and once with our friend, Susan. The night we went with Susan, we happened to window shop along the short block between the car and the gelato shop, along the way discovering many enticing trinkets and toys, including a turquoise ring (enhanced, as it turns out, by the lateness of the evening); a straw carry-all bag made in Morocco (which I now own), and a window filled with folk art items, among them a small wooden statue of Jesus.
After we got home I said, "Wouldn't Jesus look great up on top of the white bookcase? What with that vivid red coat he's -- excuse me -- He's wearing, don't you think it would be a wonderful match?"
"Well...I'm really not sure."
"What do you mean -- you're really not sure? You think people would be offended by a wooden Jesus?"
"Now that you ask, yes. They might not understand."
"What's to understand? Do they live here? I happen to think he's -- excuse me -- He's funny, and, although moderately irreverent, I think there's something quite lovely about h--Him. You don't?"
"I don't know."
So I set the whole thing aside. Until today. When I went back to the store to see about purchasing Jesus.
The first thing I did when I went in was pick Him up. I held Him in my hands and rolled Him around a bit, trying to feel the heft of Him. I also looked for a price tag. There was none.
As I walked toward the counter and the serious-looking woman standing behind it, I glanced at the price tags hanging from the many small folk art pieces. By the time I reached the woman and she was asking me, sternly, if she could help me with anything, I braved to say that I thought the prices might be a little beyond my means but I would like to know how much was that Jesus in the window.
"The one with the red coat?"
"That's right," I said, and then I half whispered, "I do hope that Jesus's for sale."
"Well," she said, "There's another red Jesus over there. You could look."
"Where?" I asked.
"Up there," she replied.
Not seeing Him at all, I said so, to which she replied, "The red Jesus -- UP THERE."
The fear of her acrid tone sent my eyes upward to a much taller Jesus who was, in fact, wearing a gold-coloured coat, not a red one.
"I'm afraid that His coat is gold."
"The red-coated folk art figure UP THERE? He is much less expensive [$425.00, if memory serves] than the Jesus in the window. The Jesus in the window was made by the famous folk artist _________ [I'm afraid I have forgotten his name already]."
"I am afraid," I began -- I confess to small feelings of indignance -- "that I am not used to your prices. I have a friend with a store on Queen Street West and --"
"What kind of items does she have?"
"Well, her store is retro and -- "
"Retro is not antique." (The woman does have a point.)
"I know," I said, "but it's an eclectic mix of oak and teak and --"
"Teak is not 1800s."
"Yes, but she has bottles like these [this woman's marked at over $100.00 and up, my friend's under $20.00 apiece], and many of the same kinds of items you have in your store."
The woman ignored me. It was clear that I wasn't going to get Jesus.
In the end, two things struck me: this was all Susan's fault for bidding $60.00 on an auction folk art cow, a Holstein, and winning him, thereby raising my expectations, and Jesus' fault for not having the right heft or up-close colour that he appeared to have from the darkened street when my happy belly was full of granita. Oh yes, and the fact that He cost more than what He would have had to pay for a 1000 robes back in the old Bethlehem market.
Anyway, tonight the women and I will be trying a gelato shop up near Yonge and St. Claire -- Xococava -- but if I see so much as a hint of a wooden Jesus I am hightailing it home -- empty-handed.
<:^)
