Today, 14 August, 2020 Lauren Elizabeth Stewart, 18, is coming to help me clean the house in preparation for my Rosemary’s return from her stay with Alexandra in Lillooet. I will be picking her up (sort of halfway) in Pemberton on Sunday.
I miss Rosemary lots. It is it terrible to sleep alone (not quite as Niño and Niña are there all night like glue) on our big bed now that the pleasure of our satin sheets has faded.
In this terrible pandemic 2020 and an almost terrible century (thanks to Steve Jobs’s iPhone) there are a few things that are better than from my 20th century.
But it would seem that some of these “improved” features of the century have spelled a doom to custom framers. Why put a framed photograph or piece of art on the wall when a flat screen TV is much better?
Those framers (I know) are hurting and in a way I know why. Consider the scanned frame of two pictures of Lauren, wearing my mother’s red shawl. Today I combined them and seized them to fit an antique frame I purchased at Hob Two, a lovely snobbish version of a Sally Ann store on Broadway just a few blocks from our house. It cost $5.00.
Lauren will arrive at 4 and I am sure she will be delighted.
Since this sort of stuff is in my thoughts, I wonder if many years from now she will look at the pictures and remember, “That’s the day I helped Papi clean the fridge.”