HEATHER & KRISTIN

Today I talked to Heather and Kristin.

I'm walking in Griffith Park and I stumble upon a hive. Not a real one. One made of little human beings with puppets attached to their hands. About fifteen children are running around, playing, and teasing each other. A girl runs towards me. She looks annoyed by my laid-back attitude. "Are you coming already? Cause we gonna have the wedding soon," she says. Her name is Stella and she is 9 years old. "And a rock band's gonna play too," adds her sister Maddy, 6 years old. Amazing. I just got here and I am already part of the puppet show.

Heather and Kristin are the girls in charge of this workshop. They are both artists and teachers. Last year they realized they had no plans for the summer. So they decided to create an art camp for kids and put it together in three weeks. They named it The Art Grist because "we are like bees and we get together to make honey," says Heather while Kristin glues a long red tongue into a puppet's mouth and laughs. During the whole summer, they offer all kinds of workshops, every day of the week from 9am to 3pm. Two weeks ago, it was the Photography week, last week the Film School, and this week is Toy Shop. Every day the kids create a new toy out of a different material. Kristin shows me a brown crooked teddy bear with a red heart sewed on its chest. "We did that yesterday with gardening gloves," she says. This is the cutest thing I have ever seen and it makes me want to do it too. "We are planning to do this for adults. We'd like to put a group together and make projects in five days, like a short film," says Heather.

Today is puppet day. The kids have decided to have a wedding with the puppets they have created. A few parents show up to pick them up, but before that they have to watch the show. The kids gather on the rocks in the middle of the square and the ceremony starts. Stella and her hobo puppet are officiating. "I'm the announcer so everyone please be seated," says the puppet in a bossy tone. "I'm glad to be here and it's an honor cause I'm a hobo. Now, the groom may stand up and the bride walk down the aisle." A shy girl with long hair walks towards the hobo with her puppet. All the kids hum a melody that has nothing to do with a wedding song. They giggle. "Groom, do you promise to keep your girlfriend-bride safe from poisonous tomatoes, poisonous snakes, poisonous mosquitoes, poisonous cucumbers..." The kids laugh. "There's a lot of poison in the Muppet world," adds the hobo. The bride and the groom answer: "I do." - "You may kiss the bride," says the hobo. "Sandwich!" a puppet shouts out from the crowd. All the puppets run to the newly-weds and surround them with shouts of joy. "Security! Security!" says the hobo.

After the wedding, Heather congratulates Stella on her behavior. "You did really good today. You've been super helpful to others, so five stars for you." They hug. In a blink of an eye, all the kids are gone. Only Stella and Maddy are still talking to me and making me laugh. "Do you know the banana song?" Stella asks. "It goes: I'm a banana, I'm a banana, I'm a banana, LOOK AT ME MOVE, I'm a banana, I'm a banana, I'm a banana, BANANA POWER! Did you like it? And then a chicken comes in the song somewhere but I forgot where," she adds.

Heather and Kristin sit down at the table covered with funky puppet hair, color papers, and pieces of fabric. "It's our debriefing time. We talk about what happened and what could be improved," says Heather. Just when I am about to leave Heather asks me if I want a puppet. "We stayed up all night to make them and we have plenty left." I can't possibly turn down such an attractive and generous offer. I pick a green puppet that reminds me of Kermit. And at this precise moment, I'm 8 years old again and that feels really good.

FRANCISCO

Today I talked to Francisco.

The day is so hot that no one ventures outside. If feels like the heat comes from everywhere - the sky, the walls, the roads, and the cars. It is 4.30pm. The temperature starts slightly to dip down. I decide to get out and look for someone to talk to.

On Santa Monica Boulevard, I come across cast sculptures of Christs, Virgins, Buddhas, Indian gods, and miniatures of David. Dozens of them are aligned on the sidewalk. Right behind, there is a mini mall with a laundry, a Donuts shop, and a 7-Eleven. I walk to the wooden cabin that stands in the middle of the parking lot. It is the sculptures' workspace. Pots of paints, brushes, and various tools are scattered on a workbench outside the hut. A man stands next to it. He greets me. His name is Francisco. He works here as a painter. I ask him if I can watch him work. He accepts. I move in the shade, under pieces of fabric and tarps stacked up and tied to electric poles. Francisco is originally from Guadalajara, Mexico. He has been working here for eight years.

He stands in a yoga pose: one leg rooted to the floor and the other bent, resting on his knee. He grabs a paunchy Buddha from the ground and delicately puts it on the bench. With the tip of a knife, he removes the dirt from the folds in the cast. Then, he pours fresh water in a plastic cup full of used brushes, takes one, and dips it in an olive green paint. "Me. Only one color," he says. He shows me the plain statues. Then he points to a man sitting inside the cabin. "This guy is good." A dark man with earplugs sits at a tiny desk full of knick-knack. "This is Rodrigo," says Francisco. Rodrigo waves at me and turns back to his work. He meticulously draws the details in Nefertiti's necklace. One more color to add and the queen will be finished. But Rodrigo stands up and says something in Spanish. He gets out of the cabin and leaves. "He has to go see his dog. He lives three blocks from here," Francisco says. He points at a picture of a white smiling poodle that hangs at Rodrigo's desk.

Francisco loves his job and nothing seems to bother him. Not even the heat or the continuous traffic. He knows the rhythms of the city by heart. Each moment of the day tells a story. When the kids go to school, when lunch is over, when people come from work, or when an event comes up in Hollywood... Francisco is a traffic expert, with a specialization in Santa Monica Boulevard. While we speak, he paints one statue after the other and puts it back on the floor to dry. A wave of loud traffic passes by. I notice a short white and beige column. "I could use it as a candle holder. How much is it?" I ask. Francisco seizes it, wipes it with a rag, and hands it to me. "For you, nothing." I hesitate. "Take it, take it," he says. I accept his gift and thank him. It was good to stop by. Time to leave this little oasis of humanity and get back to the streets with my new Greek column in hand.

POP ART

Today I talked to Stacy and Matt.

I am walking down on Vermont Avenue, an animated street in Los Feliz. The cold moist ocean air - that Angelenos call June Gloom - has finally cleared. The sun is out. On the sidewalk, between the bookstore Skylight and the French restaurant Figaro, I notice a small stand. Under a colorful umbrella, two people are chilling on beach chairs with an icebox next to them. Stacy and Matt are selling artisanal popsicles. I check their menu on the chalkboard and pick one with a Blueberry Nectarine Lemongrass flavor. The ice cream is light and refreshing. While I eat it, I watch people passing by. A muscular man with a Chihuahua on a pink leash walks quietly.

Stacy and Matt have been friends for ten years and recently decided to create this business together. They called it Pop Art. Today is their second day of business. We introduce each other and Matt hands me his business card. Under his name, it reads: Chief Popsicle Officer. Last week he was still working as an attorney but he left his job to do that. As for Stacy, she took a year off from her PHD in Chinese History to dive into this adventure.

It all began when Stacy met a guy in Atlanta who was selling popsicles on the street. She thought this would be a great job for her. Then she talked to Matt. He was up for it. "We put everything together in two weeks. The license, the equipment, the company, everything," says Matt. I am impressed by their professionalism and seriousness. "We are the most serious popsicles sellers in the universe," Matt says. "At least on Vermont," he adds. Stacy laughs. To make it happen they ordered molds from Brazil. "It's the only country you can find molds to make large amount of popsicles - up to three hundreds," says Stacy. This morning they threw away two sets because the texture was not perfect. "The taste came out good though. But we don't sell people popsicles we wouldn't eat. We're finicky," they say. On the terrace next to us, two sophisticated women clink with red wine and call the waiter.

Stacy and Matt's popsicles are made of organic products and flavors. And the names too are delicious: Strawberry Rosewater, Key Lime Pie, Watermelon Mint, Strawberry Cheesecake, Raspberry Lemonade, Mango Cilantro, Mimosa (like the Champagne cocktail), Pineapple Jalapeno (a little spicy), and Mexican Hot Chocolate (very spicy with dark chocolate chunks). "We want flavors that sound a little crazy and that are good too," says Stacy. They tried a Bloody Mary flavor lately but Matt didn't like it. I ask them how they find these originals ideas and combinations. "We just mess around with stuff," says Stacy. "We play with it. It's a little like alchemy," adds Matt.

For Stacy this job is the perfect one. "It's great. You got to seat outside, talk to people, and make food for them." Matt enjoys it also but for different reasons. "I'm my only boss. I'm the only one yelling at me right now." The only downside to it is the sun. "Sun is a killer. We've got too much Irish blood," says Stacy. True. She is a redhead and her face and arms are covered with tiny freckles. It is 4pm. Stacy and Matt have sold about thirty popsicles so far. It is a good start. The next time I feel like eating a tasty popsicle and having a laugh, I will stop by this Pop stand for sure.