Okay. I lied. This won’t be fun for everyone. Just me. (NOT!)
My mother called yesterday. First she proceeds to ask me about everything under the sun, the farming, Hubby, the critters, the kids, their critters, the weather, the state of the union. (Just checking to see if you were awake.) You have to realize… I e-mail my mother if not every day of my life, every other day of my life. Yes, all these topics have been addressed. Read the e-mail, Mom.
Me:Did you get my e-mail, Mom?
Me: Hmmm… Did you READ my e-mail Mom?
Allrighty then! So wash and repeat….and repeat…and repeat.
Now she gets down to the real topic. Pictures. Artwork. For those of you who are just catching up, my parents lived in Iowa all their lives, then retired to northern Arkansas to a house in the middle of nowhere. I’m not talking figuratively, I’m talking literally. No. Where. Forty miles for groceries, medical care, you-name-it. They lived there for twelve years while waiting to die. I can’t imagine they were waiting for anything else. The hoards of people they expected to materialize to visit them didn’t happen. Unfortunately, the rest of the people in their lives have these things called A.Life. We didn’t have the luxery of taking a 9- hour drive (one way) to visit people who moved away. I mean, really… I’m an only child. How many people do you know who moved away from their children? Usually it’s the other way around. (No smart comments about my personality and theorizing why my parents might move away. I’ll have to come over there and smack you!)
At any rate, a year ago January my parents’ house went up in flames. Completely. All they managed to save was the dog and the van. They lost everything. Realizing that they may have an opportunity, they moved back to Iowa. They love it. They really do. I don’t know how many times they’ve told me how much they like their house and their neighborhood and their yard (postage-stamp size compared to the 60 acres of timber they had in Arkansas). Mostly, they enjoy being back in civilization. Three minutes to the grocery store, pharmacy, veterinarian, doctor, and friends that they left behind. It’s still about a 40 minute drive to our place, but that’s do-able. Both ways.
They are still settling in. Hence the phone call.
They want art for the walls. My parents agree on nothing. My parents think I have good taste (go figure). As Hubby put once in a voice of wonderment…”Does it seem strange to you that your whole life you could do nothing right, and now you can do nothing wrong?” Yep, Honey, weirder than you could ever imagine.
So it looks like I’m going to go shopping after work today with my mother. For art. For their walls. (Hubby suggested Elvis on black velvet, but I just can’t see it… oh, don’t roll your eyes… no, we have no velvet paintings…it’s a JOKE people… uh…you have one…well…nevermind.) This could get interesting. I have very eclectic taste. I like modern, country, classic, new age, reggae, pop, rap… oh, yeah, we were talking decor, not music – well, you get the idea. I like it all (Except heavy metal. Just can’t get into that.) So it will be an adventure to see what I want to put on their walls that they balk at. Too bad I’m driving. This would be a good time for alcohol.