So we have this one room, it's supposedly a breakfast room but it's not really big enough for any dining table we have and we don't eat breakfast anyway and also it's one foot from the dining room so I can't figure out why we wouldn't just eat in there in the first place. But anyway. It's always been a tricky room, just sort of a wide place in the hall. But after ten years in this house, I think we finally got it the way we want it. It originally had linoleum stuck to the floors; we scraped all that up upon moving in and had the floor refinished; I then painted it icy blue. Then for some reason, about six months later, we painted it the color of a flower pot. And it stayed that way for nine years.
Until last week when I painted it back blue. I love the way it looks like a Scandanavian ice room or something. It's where this year's Chrismas tree lives and the difficult-to-work-in Louis Ghost chairs. I love it so much.
The pictures on the wall are my #1 prized possession: paintings on paper by Barbara Page, mother of my mother's childhood best friend. When we bought this house, Mom and Dad asked us what we'd like from theirs and without missing a beat, I said "the Barbara Page paintings." There are eight in all and I wish I could figure out how to reproduce and sell them. They're incredibly fragile, painted with tempera on like grocery store bags from the fifties. The frames were made by Mr. Click of Elkin, NC, who is a little vague to me other than he has a cartoon character name.
So there you have another thrilling entry. memorize it; there might be a test.
