Wednesday, December 01, 2004

From the time I was about 3 until 7ish, my family lived in a shotgun duplex on the ugly side of Carrollton Ave. in New Orleans while my dad went to school. Every Saturday, my dad would take me down the block to the corner snowcone stand. New Orleans has THE BEST snowcones in the world. I don't know why they are so good, but trust me on this: they are the best.

I usually got some obnoxious, now-nausiating blend of spearmint and bubblegum because kids don't care so much about taste as they do colors. Colorful = good. I was noticing that all we had to do was go up and say, "[order]", and we would receive [order]. I don't remember money ever being involved because I'm a girl, and he's my dad. That's how it is with dads and their little girls. Anyway, ordering and receiving the order...I felt like I could go it alone.

So one day while playing outside, I told all of my friends that we were going to go get snowcones, and they followed me. We went down, we told Cleo what we wanted, and she asked me about money. I didn't know what she was talking about, so I said, "My daddy has money." We got our order, and thus started my first line of credit. I had GREAT credit when I was still in single-digit years. My debt got paid off every week by my daddy. Today, things aren't so much different. I'm not indebted to snowcones, and daddy doesn't pay it off on a weekly basis.


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