The ingenuity of a hillbilly gangsta ma

"Thank you for the invitation to come over and to spend some time hanging out with you at your home Katrina. It is good to get out of the house, and away from my keyboard," I said. "I'm beginning to feel as though all that I do is write. It's a good thing to be here and to be graced by the altruism that emanates from your personality, and to be in the relentless comfort of your merciful self." "I wish to write the highest ode to your presence," I say with a familiar sarcastic tone to Katrina. "Smartass," She replies. "Are you hungry Bodhi?" "Because I make one hell of a knuckle sandwich," She responds playfully to my sarcasm. "Then maybe I could make you some french cries as a side to your whamburger," Katrina said to me. "It's good to be back within the thralls of your not so southern hospitality," I say, with eyebrows raised and my lips inverted as if bucking up to her. "Good to see you," she tells me as we exchange a hug. 

"Is this new?" "Why have I never seen this?" "Have I been gone that long?" "It looks good." "Is this another one of your art projects?"

I say, implying my interest in her artwork.

"This stained glass is magnificent Bodhi, it is a total enhancement to my cooking experience!" "I find pleasure in creating art from another individual's trash, go figure." "I couldn't resist removing this colorful, broken piece of wonder from a dumpster off hwy 16." Katrina said. "It has made a fabulous backsplash for my stovetop." Without a judgement, I find Katrina's enthusiasm is exciting. "You should try looking in the trash sometime Bodhi, maybe I'll take us tonight behind the mendozas plaza, though they tend to lock their dumpsters up, we could find lots of really cool things." Katrina states. 

"I don't think I'll be finding myself doing any excavating or pillaging within a dumpster tonight," I reply. "Come with me, I want to show you some things." She said. 

"Brrrrr" I exclaim, as Katrina walks me outside and into her back yard. Though the brisk chill in the air on this January Texas night, is no deterrent from our friendly engagement. "I suppose one man's throw-aways, and another woman's fractured relinquishments have become a pleasurable hobby for you." I said. "It's Friday night! I've come to find that monday mornings are when the trash gets picked up and transferred to the landfill," she said, as she uses a flashlight to illuminate her plethora of tangibles, which she has found in dumpsters. "If we go tonight, we may find something that you would value Bodhi," she said. "I've collected these things from dumpsters, some of them, like that old electric scooter over there, still have potential," she said, as the light she's holding in her calloused, artistic hand, is directed to a small, electric scooter, resting itself against the base of a mighty oak. 

"You know Katrina, this would make a great story that I would like to post on Reedsy." I say, in hopes of a validating response and a confirmation of my insinuation. 

"Of course Bodhi, share what you'd like about tonight." "I would be obliged if you told my story." She responded gratefully and wished me blessings in my venture.

Her eccentricity radiates as she tells me each parcel's story, how and where she found the trash, and the artistry she has planned for the future of each bit of junk. 

"People throw away some cool shit." She said. She shows me a classy old champagne bottle. "I just wanted the bottle" she says "look at the broken bottom of this ceramic lamp, it's going to make an awesome planter!" "Oh and I found these few pieces of wood in a dumpster, I'm unsure what their original purpose once was. They look very similar to propeller blades and they are going to make some great benches that I'll build, and put in my garden so I can enjoy a peaceful sit amongst the flower beds," She said. 

"You're very enthusiastic about this hobby, putting other people's trash to use," I say. 

"I'm giving life back to the so-called junk that people just toss away." "Most of these items were particular for someone at one point in time." Katrina said, "they deserve a second chance." "This is not just my hobby, it's the creative restoration of something that had great meaning to someone." She said 

"Yeah, but, that someone doesn't want it anymore," I say to her. 

"I came up poor, my mother struggled through the great depression, and I refuse to let anything that is useful simply go to waste." "Plus it's a beautiful thing to create what I consider gold, from what another person perceives as junk," She said.

Katrina's words, spoken in such sincerity, the passion she has in the artsy refurbishment of such trash, has me questioning my standards and the limits of what I am willing to do for my own creative joy. To obtain such a finding, in the fetid depths of a dumpster, with the potential to inspire within myself, the same passion that resides in Katrina's heart. 

"I'm telling you Bodhi, lot's of cool stuff." "Look at all of these old chairs! They need just a little tlc to make for a great dining set that would exude an old-fashioned ambiance, so cool." Katrina says, as her smile seems to be a token of good faith in my consideration of such an experience. 

"They do look like antiquities, and you could restore them, hell, they even have somewhat of a valuable appearance, as if at one time they were a bit pricey," I say, as my motivation to dumpster dive is beginning to sway due to Katrina's eagerness and drive, and the possibility of an illegitimate payday. 

She tells me, "I've found so many items in dumpsters that I have restored to original condition, I've even sold some of them." Katrina said, "This may seem kind of shady, though it truly is not." "I have literally taken some trash and refurbished it, or I created art with it, and there are people in this town that have, in all actuality, purchased it from me!" 

Katrina says, in a means to surprise. 

"Yes, I have sold to people, what was once trash, knowingly of course," she says, 

"In doing so, I've made surprisingly considerable profits," Katrina says. 

In relaying this information to me, 

a broke writer, with a thirst for words and a relative passion for the creative arts. My natural response to a meal is eat. 

As my natural reaction to getting paid to create something, is that I'd be honored to do so. "I think I may have just found a new hobby, Katrina." 

                       -Bodhi Ganesh