Smile-breaks
It's huge!
I fell in love with it! This huge, happy, colorful painting—rose, golden yellow, reds, royal blues, lighter pinks and happy little people who looked like they were almost dancing. I loved it! Oh, I said that already.
I admired it and told the shop owners how much I—okay—loved it. And then I left. I had only stopped in out of curiosity, in spite of my son's iced peppermint mocha latte with "lots of whipped cream" languishing in the car. The cheerful sign over the door, "Shuwee," caught my attention. This was a new store in the shopping center and I wondered what they were selling. I looked more closely and say a cozy chair and floor lamp pictured beside the "Shuwee" sign.
It was a small shop so I figured I could be in and out in a few minutes. Actually I was looking for a new couch so I parked and went in and yes, I locked my car, in case you were wondering. The furniture was fun and colorful and they also had vintage pieces. I sat on a rose-colored couch—too hard—and on a pale purple loveseat—just right, but wrong color.
Back in the car—Paul's whipped cream intact—I drove away. Three blocks later, it occurred to me that I could buy the picture and get to look at it every day! On my handy-dandy Bluetooth, I called the owner right then and there. Asked her the price on the painting. She told me. I said, "Thank you" and drove on. Thought it over. Called back. "Could you sell it to me for $xx?
She said she'd check and call me back. She checked. She called me back. "Yes." I thanked her, hung up and hollered, "Yay!" At home, I looked around. Where would I hang this HUGE painting? How big was it really? I found a wall, called to ask the dimensions. She measured. Fifty-six inches by eighty inches. Oh wow! Eighty inches?
I measured. Eighty inches across. Good. It'll fit. That night, lying awake, I started thinking—was it eighty inches wide or eighty inches tall? Tall would take up the whole wall, floor to ceiling almost. That wouldn't do. Try as I could, I couldn't remember if the painting was wider or narrower.
This was on a Sunday. My son—remember the one who never locks his keys in his truck? —said yes, he would pick it up and he did and while he was loading the painting in the bed of his truck, I spied a white leather swivel chair. Perfect! I bought it. And oh! That hand-painted serving tray has a motif similar to the motif of the painting. I bought it.
My son's truck being fully loaded—the painting occupied the entire bed of his truck and a little beyond—the owner loaded the chair into his truck and followed us home with it. A few days later, my other son—good to have lots of sons!—hung it on the wall for me and I love it! Oh, sorry. . . but I do. Love it. And it's eighty inches wide, not tall.
A bonus: I made new friends. The family explained that "Shuwee" is special to their family. It's what they say when something wonderful or not so wonderful happens and it's what their disabled son says when commenting on something happening. Having my own disabled son, we were able to share experiences, so it was all good.
Not to be a commercial, but they're at Avocado and Highway 94, in case you're looking for vintage and/or fun furniture. If you want to see THE BEST painting ever, stop by at our place. Or if you just can't wait, here it is.
