Small World and White Eggs

A few years ago, a friend of mine, attending a party of Americans living in Berlin, Germany, struck up a conversation with a woman who was curious about Rockbridge County, where we now live.  She said she was negotiating to buy a country store there.

The deal fell through, but this morning I learned that the store, our next-door neighbor, finally is changing hands.  Its owner told me, "I'm excited, it's a great business, but now what am I going to do? Who wants to hire a 54-year old woman?"

She even offered the price, $180,000, which set my wheels churning about a going business, store premises, coolers and other equipment, plus an apartment on the second story.  For the right person, it sounds like a steal.

The conversation began when I asked if I could tape a concert poster to the store window.  I learned something else.  Someone is raising 50 chickens and throwing away their eggs.  "I just can't stand brown eggs.  They taste strong or something.  We're going to get some white layers."

"I think I'd get those eggs to my store, stick them in cartons and label them 'free-range organic,'" says Virginia.  "Maybe paint them white."

"Right, that sounds like you," I say.

"It's Lent," says Virginia. "I'd paint them gobs of colors, and sell fresh rabbits right beside them."