71
R. Linda:
I looked around the Kremlin I call home, and having Uncle Boris's permission to make it my own, I decided I needed a few sticks of furniture that didn't sport claw feet for legs. I dream they start walking in the dead of night, and I will (one awful midnight) find meself rudely awakened with all of them surrounding me bed. All friends of the gone Pee Cat there bent on revenge.
That aside, I have one window between the living room and the back bedroom (where the eggs 'live'), and there sun does come in and illuminates the parquet floor to a bright spot. I have considered sunglasses just to walk by there. Anyway, it be the perfect place for a small table and chair for me to sip me Bewley's. The sun is so intense and glaring that it cuts out my sight of the heavy Russian furnishings. I think I could pretend I be home in Old Eire enjoying me cuppa.
At work, there be a bespectacled woman who everyone calls "know-it-all-Sue," and I got me thinking the other day I should ask her where I might find me a table and chair that would remind me of me dear homeland. So up to her I go, and put it to her what I was looking for and could she help me. As soon as she heard me accent, a smile broke out on her face like the sun does after a rainstorm. I almost stopped in mid-sentence and asked what was so wonderful, when begorrah me, I realised it was ME! I had forgotten she was a single lady of 35, never been married, engaged, and, by the look of her -- dating. She was more than helpful with supplying me with places to go, and offered her services to assist.
I couldn't get out of that, so I reluctantly agreed she should accompany me and remembering when I took Penny out to lunch and THAT ended up a date, I took the precaution of offering Sue a finders fee. Well, she laughed that off and told me she doesn't get out all that much, and this is just what the doctor ordered. I did not understand the phrase "just what the doctor ordered." For a tick there, I thought I was about to go furniture shopping with a certified lunatic.
She saw me consternation and explained that there was no doctor; it was an old phrase one uses when one needs a change of pace in one's life. I knew the shopping expedition was not the change of pace I was looking for, but I could be the one she thought she was looking for.
That very afternoon we took off for shops close to the Chinatown section of San Francisco, where at the entrance by the great stone pillars with the Chinese dogs atop, I was treated to drums beating, people getting noisy and a dragon weaving through the crowded streets. There was much fanfare, and I was intrigued, thinking it was some Chinese holiday, until I saw the sign EAT AT CHUNGS on the thing's tail. It was an early dinnertime ploy and here I was quite enjoying the show! Sue pulled me onward away from Chinatown.
So off we go a little way past the entrance to a little shop of horrors right down an alley. I knew before we even entered that Nadia had already been there. In the grimy window was heavy Kremlin furniture. I was guessing eggs were inside, just waiting to be added to the collection. I hesitated and would have said something about passing this one up, but Sue was already inside. Sighing, hands thrust in me pockets (truth be known, I was holding onto me wallet), I followed her in. I could barely see inside the place. She was already in conversation with the owner, and as I already knew, he had nothing that faintly resembled Irish country furniture. With no further adieu, we were out of there. This impressed me that she did not stand around gawking at the St. Petersburg specials.
She whisked me to another place, where traditional English pieces populated the window display. I could smell the money, and I held her back from it. I decided we needed to talk about what I was looking for because I don't have thousands (or even hundreds) to spend on costly items I will have to sell when I move meself back to Boston. Yes, R. Linda, that thought be in the back of me mind.
Off to Starbucks we went. Is there any other place I'd be going? There we were at one of those small stand-up tables with our lattes (yes, she had me drinking that girlie brew), talking over exactly what I wanted in me abode. She even got me sad circumstances out of me. I had to look into me cup to make sure it wasn't vodka loosening me tongue. I told her way too much about meself, and I think what happened is everything caught up to me, and here was a woman who looked like a psychologist and my tongue just couldn't stop itself
She looked -- for all intent and purposes -- sympathetic. I thought to meself she was feeling sorry for me, when in fact I was feeling that way and then realised I can be such a fecking looser when I want to be. I had mistaken sympathy for extreme interest in yours truly. How do I know this? We had finished the lattes, and as we walked out, she grabbed me hand. We were hand in hand, R. Linda! I couldn't pull away; doing so would have been an affront to her, and I needed her expertise on the furniture. If I didn't get that furniture I knew I'd go mad in that place I reluctantly call home.
I was in a muck sweat over this to the next shop. Me palm was sweating. I disengaged it to open the door, and as I did, a chime that played ROMEO AND JULIET music came on. Was this an omen or what?
The place was an antique shop. There in the back was just what I wanted. A half ladder back chair, a pie crust table with three graceful legs (no claw feet), and right on top was what looked like one of Mrs. Doyle's crochet doilies. Not only that, there was a Bewley's shamrock tea set! I found meself hugging Sue in an ecstatic happiness that I had forgotten meself entirely. Oh, what a message this sent. She was all embarrassed smiles, but her arm came up around me waist, and she returned me hugs, and I knew I was doomed.
I somehow disengaged meself from her anaconda-like hold. I started handing her the tea items as I took up the rest and grabbed the chairs, thinking to come back for the most perfect table (it was like me gran's, such images of home I had going through me head), and off to the front of the shop we went. There were other browsers in the place, and I thought nothing of them; such was my euphoria over finding precisely what I wanted.
We put the items on the counter, the shopkeeper smiling broadly (I think if he could have gotten away with rubbing his hands together, he would have). He could smell a sale and it was then I realised I hadn't looked at the prices. Too late, so off we went to the back of the store. Only the table was gone! Yes, R. Linda disappeared. We looked at each other with furrowed brows. It just didn't sprout claw feet and walk away, did it? Nah.
We agreed to split up and go looking. It wasn't long before I saw two little old biddies with MY table. They were carrying it between them down another aisle, but they were shopping along the way. I caught Sue as she was flitting passed and pointed. Her eyes got big and her face looked all indignant. We both were unconsciously standing with hands on hips like twinzies. I immediately stopped that pose when I realised what we looked like.
She whispered, "We are shite out of luck on the table." As she said this, the two biddies found a gilded birdcage with a plastic bird perched upside down on the swing. They put the table down to go fix the fecking bird! I put me finger to me lips for Sue to keep quiet and stealthily made me way down the aisle. With extreme quiet, I picked up the table and sped off to the front of the store, Sue scampering after me. I whipped out me cheque book as Sue kept guard. The two biddies found the table missing and were perplexedly looking for it. Sue, God bless her, returned and created a diversion, asking them if they had seen any Belgium lace about the place. Well, I would never know that Belgium lace was an old lady topic high on the old lady list, but it is. They were telling her how to spot authentic runners and table-toppers. Speaking of tables and running, I got the table and chairs and absconded out the door, me chequebook quite a bit lighter, and using me head to signal the boxed tea set to Sue, I hurried off. She made sure I was out and halfway down the street before she went to the counter and took off after me with a tea set under her arm.
I had put me head through the rungs of one of the chairs and holding the other with one hand and the table like a tray, I ran down the street with Sue running behind me. As soon as we rounded the corner, we stopped for breath. We laughed our fool heads off all the way to me abode. We never slowed down, and I wondered at that because if you think about it, those two old biddies would never have caught us anyway.
Now I have a little bit of Ireland by the window, you should know. Me Bewley's tea set and doily on top of me stolen, but not stolen pie crust table. I stand there looking at it for hours because it transports me home. I know it is stupid on me part, but if you could see the rest of the Kremlin you'd know why I do this.
Gabe
Copyright © 2004 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
I looked around the Kremlin I call home, and having Uncle Boris's permission to make it my own, I decided I needed a few sticks of furniture that didn't sport claw feet for legs. I dream they start walking in the dead of night, and I will (one awful midnight) find meself rudely awakened with all of them surrounding me bed. All friends of the gone Pee Cat there bent on revenge.
That aside, I have one window between the living room and the back bedroom (where the eggs 'live'), and there sun does come in and illuminates the parquet floor to a bright spot. I have considered sunglasses just to walk by there. Anyway, it be the perfect place for a small table and chair for me to sip me Bewley's. The sun is so intense and glaring that it cuts out my sight of the heavy Russian furnishings. I think I could pretend I be home in Old Eire enjoying me cuppa.
At work, there be a bespectacled woman who everyone calls "know-it-all-Sue," and I got me thinking the other day I should ask her where I might find me a table and chair that would remind me of me dear homeland. So up to her I go, and put it to her what I was looking for and could she help me. As soon as she heard me accent, a smile broke out on her face like the sun does after a rainstorm. I almost stopped in mid-sentence and asked what was so wonderful, when begorrah me, I realised it was ME! I had forgotten she was a single lady of 35, never been married, engaged, and, by the look of her -- dating. She was more than helpful with supplying me with places to go, and offered her services to assist.
I couldn't get out of that, so I reluctantly agreed she should accompany me and remembering when I took Penny out to lunch and THAT ended up a date, I took the precaution of offering Sue a finders fee. Well, she laughed that off and told me she doesn't get out all that much, and this is just what the doctor ordered. I did not understand the phrase "just what the doctor ordered." For a tick there, I thought I was about to go furniture shopping with a certified lunatic.
She saw me consternation and explained that there was no doctor; it was an old phrase one uses when one needs a change of pace in one's life. I knew the shopping expedition was not the change of pace I was looking for, but I could be the one she thought she was looking for.
That very afternoon we took off for shops close to the Chinatown section of San Francisco, where at the entrance by the great stone pillars with the Chinese dogs atop, I was treated to drums beating, people getting noisy and a dragon weaving through the crowded streets. There was much fanfare, and I was intrigued, thinking it was some Chinese holiday, until I saw the sign EAT AT CHUNGS on the thing's tail. It was an early dinnertime ploy and here I was quite enjoying the show! Sue pulled me onward away from Chinatown.
So off we go a little way past the entrance to a little shop of horrors right down an alley. I knew before we even entered that Nadia had already been there. In the grimy window was heavy Kremlin furniture. I was guessing eggs were inside, just waiting to be added to the collection. I hesitated and would have said something about passing this one up, but Sue was already inside. Sighing, hands thrust in me pockets (truth be known, I was holding onto me wallet), I followed her in. I could barely see inside the place. She was already in conversation with the owner, and as I already knew, he had nothing that faintly resembled Irish country furniture. With no further adieu, we were out of there. This impressed me that she did not stand around gawking at the St. Petersburg specials.
She whisked me to another place, where traditional English pieces populated the window display. I could smell the money, and I held her back from it. I decided we needed to talk about what I was looking for because I don't have thousands (or even hundreds) to spend on costly items I will have to sell when I move meself back to Boston. Yes, R. Linda, that thought be in the back of me mind.
Off to Starbucks we went. Is there any other place I'd be going? There we were at one of those small stand-up tables with our lattes (yes, she had me drinking that girlie brew), talking over exactly what I wanted in me abode. She even got me sad circumstances out of me. I had to look into me cup to make sure it wasn't vodka loosening me tongue. I told her way too much about meself, and I think what happened is everything caught up to me, and here was a woman who looked like a psychologist and my tongue just couldn't stop itself
She looked -- for all intent and purposes -- sympathetic. I thought to meself she was feeling sorry for me, when in fact I was feeling that way and then realised I can be such a fecking looser when I want to be. I had mistaken sympathy for extreme interest in yours truly. How do I know this? We had finished the lattes, and as we walked out, she grabbed me hand. We were hand in hand, R. Linda! I couldn't pull away; doing so would have been an affront to her, and I needed her expertise on the furniture. If I didn't get that furniture I knew I'd go mad in that place I reluctantly call home.
I was in a muck sweat over this to the next shop. Me palm was sweating. I disengaged it to open the door, and as I did, a chime that played ROMEO AND JULIET music came on. Was this an omen or what?
The place was an antique shop. There in the back was just what I wanted. A half ladder back chair, a pie crust table with three graceful legs (no claw feet), and right on top was what looked like one of Mrs. Doyle's crochet doilies. Not only that, there was a Bewley's shamrock tea set! I found meself hugging Sue in an ecstatic happiness that I had forgotten meself entirely. Oh, what a message this sent. She was all embarrassed smiles, but her arm came up around me waist, and she returned me hugs, and I knew I was doomed.
I somehow disengaged meself from her anaconda-like hold. I started handing her the tea items as I took up the rest and grabbed the chairs, thinking to come back for the most perfect table (it was like me gran's, such images of home I had going through me head), and off to the front of the shop we went. There were other browsers in the place, and I thought nothing of them; such was my euphoria over finding precisely what I wanted.
We put the items on the counter, the shopkeeper smiling broadly (I think if he could have gotten away with rubbing his hands together, he would have). He could smell a sale and it was then I realised I hadn't looked at the prices. Too late, so off we went to the back of the store. Only the table was gone! Yes, R. Linda disappeared. We looked at each other with furrowed brows. It just didn't sprout claw feet and walk away, did it? Nah.
We agreed to split up and go looking. It wasn't long before I saw two little old biddies with MY table. They were carrying it between them down another aisle, but they were shopping along the way. I caught Sue as she was flitting passed and pointed. Her eyes got big and her face looked all indignant. We both were unconsciously standing with hands on hips like twinzies. I immediately stopped that pose when I realised what we looked like.
She whispered, "We are shite out of luck on the table." As she said this, the two biddies found a gilded birdcage with a plastic bird perched upside down on the swing. They put the table down to go fix the fecking bird! I put me finger to me lips for Sue to keep quiet and stealthily made me way down the aisle. With extreme quiet, I picked up the table and sped off to the front of the store, Sue scampering after me. I whipped out me cheque book as Sue kept guard. The two biddies found the table missing and were perplexedly looking for it. Sue, God bless her, returned and created a diversion, asking them if they had seen any Belgium lace about the place. Well, I would never know that Belgium lace was an old lady topic high on the old lady list, but it is. They were telling her how to spot authentic runners and table-toppers. Speaking of tables and running, I got the table and chairs and absconded out the door, me chequebook quite a bit lighter, and using me head to signal the boxed tea set to Sue, I hurried off. She made sure I was out and halfway down the street before she went to the counter and took off after me with a tea set under her arm.
I had put me head through the rungs of one of the chairs and holding the other with one hand and the table like a tray, I ran down the street with Sue running behind me. As soon as we rounded the corner, we stopped for breath. We laughed our fool heads off all the way to me abode. We never slowed down, and I wondered at that because if you think about it, those two old biddies would never have caught us anyway.
Now I have a little bit of Ireland by the window, you should know. Me Bewley's tea set and doily on top of me stolen, but not stolen pie crust table. I stand there looking at it for hours because it transports me home. I know it is stupid on me part, but if you could see the rest of the Kremlin you'd know why I do this.
Gabe
Copyright © 2004 All rights reserved
