The other day I noticed that we had a new guest at our table. She stood there for several days before I acknowledged her. It's not like I'm running a restaurant here, padding my gas station chicken/44 oz Diet Coke/scratch-off ticket bankroll with tips. Besides, it's not even like any eating goes on at our kitchen table. We dish it up at the stove, usually at different times. It's not like this is my dad's house, where supper was served every evening at 5:10 p.m., with all family members accounted for, sitting there eating what was put in front of them, or going hungry silently.
"Did you get a new Barbie?"
"Yeah! Look at her! She was a steal! I got her for $29 at the antique store!"
"You already have a Coca Cola Barbie! She's been standing on top of Grandma's piano down in the basement for years!"
"Val. That's Coca Cola PICNIC Barbie! This is a different one. She's a COLLECTOR Barbie."
Okay. I know you're dying to see Hick's very special Barbie. He took her off to the BARn to put with his other Coca Cola swag. For all I know, Coca Cola Picnic Barbie is already over there, too.
There she is, Hick's very special Barbie. I saw her online going for $45 or $50. Not so poor Picnic Barbie. She's a cheap little tart at $5.99 or so on eBay. I don't have her picture from Hick, but here's one.
I wonder if there's something Hick hasn't told me about his childhood...