I knew it would snow as soon as I got the driveway cleared off. Not much, just enough to cover my nice clear concrete. Tsk. And I took the Christmas tree down last night. Now we're completely undecorated and back to normal with the usual complement of near-dead plants in the window. So homey.
Jennifer, you're fitting right in. Sick and twisted... *snort* Love your little story. I can really feel her embarrassment and cringing when her husband goes off like that. Well done.
January 6--Gustav Klimt Hygieia. She stands at the top of the stairs peering down her nose as I climb toward her. This is the worst part of spending time at Aunt Cele's, this climb from downstairs to up. In an old house already darkened by walnut paneling and years of oil heat soot it seems like a cliche that she would have a print of that scary woman looming above the landing but there it is. Her eyes look friendly enough and she even might be smiling but it's the perspective of the thing--that and the snake. The view is as if you are at her feet like a supplicant. She has her arm out as if to fend you off. Then there is the snake that's wrapped around that arm. Jed and Aunt Cele say it isn't a snake, but I know better.
I'm kind of liking this challenge of writing to art. See you all tomorrow night.
--Barbara
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