Last week, I was in Prince George for a few days, while D did some more training. One of these days, I went from little store to little store, meeting all sorts of quirky and friendly store owners. One store is in the smallest space I have ever seen. The lady sells vintage clothing and you have to squeeze through rows and climb over suitcases to look around, while a cheesy soap opera plays on a tv, hidden behind a hanging rack of more clothes. She dreams of moving to Paris someday soon, to open a store there. In her early sixties, she says she has left Prince George multiple times, but always ends up coming back. "Never say you're not coming back," she warned another customer, a college student who had tried to leave to Vancouver once. When I didn't buy anything, she tried hard to convince me to get something. "All that work of climbing around through here, and you're not even going to get anything?!"
My next stop was Long and McQuade. Not a local store, but still a fun one. It brought back memories of all the times we went to Long and McQuade in Calgary and jammed on all the different instruments in the store. But I wasn't looking for a guitar this time. After buying a faulty jaw harp at the Calgary Heritage Park, I was after the real deal. Which I found. I tried to make the shop clerk play it for me, so I could see if I was doing it right. An older gentleman saw us, and we soon had a little jam session going, trying to play "Yankee Doodle." He reminisced about playing his back in the 70s with his coworkers, while one of them danced a jig on the hood of his truck. I wonder if he'll bring his out now and start playing again. As I left he called out, "Now you'll be able to serenade all those boys up in the Fort." Check this out.
At the end of the day, I came home with an odd assortment of items: A screen printing kit, an invisible zipper foot, a jaw harp, a jar that glows with fireflies, plaid fabric, and two L.M. Montgomery books from the library.