Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Early Christmas

I'm a little jealous of my husband today. His Christmas shopping is very nearly complete and it's not even Hallowe'en, so he can spend the rest of this fall and the start of the winter not thinking at all about lists or wishes or my less-than-subtle hints.

I, on the other hand, consider myself lucky to get to spend an extra two months with my new best friend.

She's a cow.

Well, she's a painting of a cow, likely a heifer, although it's only her face that's on display, so we can't know for sure. Maybe you saw her, on the left side of the stage at the GNE, the one with the white face covered with curls and a curious expression? The one you might expect at any second to do that thing cows do with their tongue and their nostrils?

I told everyone near me, especially my husband, how much I loved that painting and how very very much I wanted her to come and live at our house. I even had the perfect place all picked out to accommodate her rather large size.

Saturday afternoon, she arrived, and quite by accident. I had found out who had supplied her to the fair, and I just... dropped by at Graingers in Stayner to see if she was still there and whether my love affair was perhaps just a passing fancy.

She was, and it wasn't. I still love her.

I was trying to come up with a way to convince my sweetie that a 5'x 5' piece of unsigned art was neither silly nor a waste and would make his wife so very happy when he suddenly suggested she become this year's Christmas present.

Less than an hour later, she was gracing our walls, looking every bit like she was as in love with us as I am with her.

It was about an hour after she took her place in the foyer that I realized I had seen her face somewhere else. It took a little while, but I located that expression in a photo of my 13 year old self and my 4H calf from that summer. That heifer's name was Bonnie and so that's what we've named my new best friend, who will no doubt make a lot of people say, "Holy cow!" when they come in our door.

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