Dear Dod,

You are not gonna believe what I found in Cary, NC...a childhood prodigy.  His name is Reese and he is a balloon art salesman.  He makes balloon animals and takes tips (he strongly encourages you to leave a tip--a little pushy for my taste, but hey I don't know the going rate is for balloons these days).  There I was: at The Loop, waiting for my takeout because Seth and I are just lazy enough to go all the way to the restaurant, order takeout, wait for 15 minutes, and go home to eat it on our couch like ill-mannered slobs.  So back to The Loop.  I saw a little gentleman, about 4 feet tall, give or take half a foot, he was clad in a tuxedo minus the jacket.  I have to say at this point I observed him from a distance because I was intrigued by what on earth a little man in a tuxedo would be doing in The Loop (grill and pizza).  Apparently, he was drumming up business.  I begged Seth for a dollar since I never have cash (sshhh, don't tell Dave Ramsey, but I still use my debit card) and I walked over with a big grin and asked the little penguin-suited boy for a balloon animal. Well, turns out he is a confident little sucker and he nonchalantly held his hand out (with a half-smile, half-eye-roll) to guide me to his workstation (AKA: a booth) for assembly of the balloon art.  I could tell that he was thinking in his smug little business boy head, "man this woman is sad, asking a kid for a balloon animal, get a life."  He was all of 8 years old and I could tell he thought he was 32.  Once we got to his business booth, he asked me what type of animal I wanted.  I requested a dog and pointed to my sweet baby Wilbur who was in the parking lot hanging out of the car window waiting on us.  Well, Mr. Entreprenuer said, "OK, I can do a dog, what colors to want?"  He pulled out a plastic box with 100 balloons of varying colors, and I picked a few.  All of the sudden, 2 little girls, who must have been family friends or relatives, came over and started picking up his gear (balloon pump, balloons, business cards, etc.).  He sternly looks at them and says, "please do not touch ANYTHING that is PLASTIC on this table!!"  So then, they (and I) thought it was funny to touch his tip jar, which admittedly was not plastic.  So then he looks up from structuring my balloon art to glare are them and state, "PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING ON MY TABLE!"  I was holding back a giggle.  I could tell he was peeved that I had laughter in my eyes, so I tried to make him feel better by talking business with him.  I asked him how long he had been doing this (since age 6), where did he usually "perform" (all types of functions, he had a 100 person birthday party booked in Wake Forest next weekend, he charges extra for an event that far out, since gas is so expensive...).  Uhhh-yeah, I and everyone else OVER 16 who drives know that, but how do you know that kid??  Well the dog was eventually finished and not to be mean to a kid/adult in a child body, but that was a sorry looking balloon dog.  He even threw in some sharpie-drawn eyes, but it looked like crap.  I thanked him and stuck my dollar bill halfway in the opening to his tip jar, it didn't fall down, so he takes his little hand and pops the dollar on top right into the tip jar in front of me.  I almost peed my pants laughing at this whole spectacle.  It was fantastic.  I wish the dog-balloon had not shriveled up in one day or I would have a picture for you to see.  However, there is hope, I was at The Loop again this week and that little business rascal has put up a set of his cards by the register.  He apparently appears there every Thursday night.  I might just go back and talk business with him. 

You are welcome for all of the southern phrases/words I used in this post.  I hope your Cali friends don't think I am 100% redneck.

Love you always,
Burl-Womble