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49 Just off 18™ and Boston, I spotted the place. Two stories. Stucco. An awful mustard color. Really ugly. I just Se ee en A ee BO ---- looked upward and whispered to my unseen presence. “Is this my gallery? At last?” I stood silently for a moment until I felt I’'d received my answer. I nodded and walked to the address of the place which had been listed on the “For Rent” sign on the front of the old house. I found the office then introduced myself before I made my pitch. What if he laughed me out of the room? I took a deep breath. “Mr. Jones, I don’t have any money but I need your house, that mustard colored place at 18" and Boston? I need it for... uh...a... an art gallery. I have to have it.” I reverted to childhood and crossed my fingers behind my back. This man could make or break all my dreams. oa) ewo4d to404 eww The owner of the house looked me over carefully, then, as if he understood and as if he wanted me to start my new wed aaa life, he nodded. “All right. I don’t see any problem. You can pay me when you get the first month’s rent.” “How much will the rent be?” My question came out a 1: whisper. “Would $40.00 be too much?” He shuffled some of the papers on the desk in front of him as if he were not very interested in this transaction. “Wow! No. Okay. I mean, that’s fine.” I felt as if I were floating as I left his office. I then continued to float from my Volkswagen on into the paint store, which was my very next stop. “Two gallons of white exterior paint, please. I have an art gallery to paint.” “Two gallons, lady? That ain’t going to cover much.” “Well, it will have to do. That’s all I can afford right now.” Now, with only one dollar in change in my pocket, I picked up the two cans and walked out to swing the Barbara: The Story of a UFO Investigator