It's that time of year. I think of leaving until mid-January--a cruise might be nice (although there have been rough waters recently).
Evidently, escape has always been on my mind. When I was four or five, I'd borrow Mom's high heels, get her pocketbook, and wait for the Greyhound bus to take me away. Odd, isn't it, that my parents allowed me to play beside the highway?
When I get the stance right, this will be a painting. Okay, maybe I'll work on my size, too--I'm taller than the Amoco sign! For the drawing, I moved the King Edward Cigar sign (great for target-practice) across the road.
Happy Holidays. I'll be working on cards, shopping, and minimal decorating (nothing stops me from drawing, though).
This is what the house looked like when we moved back in after remodeling five years ago. This is what I hope the house will look like again. The cleaning ladies never showed up--we hired them as a favor to a friend. Was it because I said "no copper polish, no Pledge on my furniture, and no scouring of the countertop?" Was it me? Was the floor too much? Too much dirt? I think I'm more relieved than disappointed (and a bit ticked off that I got out of bed early--8 a.m.).
Dave and I were not surprised when they didn't show; it's a common occurrence here in southern Virginia. Contractors and workers smile and take measurements and say "yes;" many never return or call. Later--when you meet at restaurants or parties--everyone pretends that all is well. I pitch their cards.
I am pleased that, after my frantic prep work, there's a chance the house will be ready for the Holidays. Tomorrow is art day at the YMCA--no cleaning.