Just a few doors down from the gallery I worked at in Santa Fe there was a jewelry and gift shop with a great little coffee bar in the back. It was there I fell in love with Italian sorbettos in the form of a slushy iced coffee drink that was highly addictive, at least for me. I arrived at the gallery early enough to make a quick run before people made their way up Canyon Road. On my weaker days, and there were far too many of those, I also got a cranberry/orange/pecan muffin. These were not your ordinary COPM's. These were from The Chocolate Maven, over on Second Street. They take baked goods to a whole 'nother level.
One summer, the Italian sorbetto machine went on the fritz. Beside myself with grief, and heading into withdrawal in what can only be described as delirium tremors, I almost grabbed Bill by his lapels and threatened to do him or myself bodily harm if a solution couldn't quickly be found. 'Wheeeennnn?' I whined, to no avail. One more day, I told him, and I would be out on the street corner asking everyone who went by if they knew where I could score an Italian coffee sorbetto.
One day after another went by. Still, no sorbetto machine. The Fixer couldn't fix. One week turned into two weeks. Summer was going by.
I would drive up Canyon Road to spend my days among beautiful and interesting art created by some very cool artists from all over the country, meeting amazing and interesting people from all over the world. You know, Michael Caine, Chris Rock, Woody Harrelson, Valerie Plame. Like that.
Eventually, I almost forgot about the broken sorbetto machine.
Here is where my story becomes somewhat more interesting: every day that I walked into this shop and made my way to the back for my fix, or to check when my supplier would be back in town, I walked by a display of wooden wall hangings. These were not your ordinary wooden wall hangings. They were painted with the magical images and words of Brian Andreas. I was like a child, face tilted up, mouth undoubtedly agape, eyes glued to the small and deeply true stories they told. They always caught my attention and they always had a message I needed to hear. I even learned to listen.
One day, I realized I had let go of my belief that I needed Italian coffee sorbettos.
I was free! Free! Free at last!
And then the machine got fixed.
But, by that time, I didn't need them, and only wanted them now and then.
Here is Brian's little story, in animated form, that helped me get through that difficult summer: