Little sketch made just outside the stable; Debbie was kind enough to be my model. My Basia went her way looking for better grass, but Debbie was interested in yellow leaves falling down from plumtrees. She was eating them one by one. Maybe she liked color. Hard to belive she might like taste.
“Old Man” and “The Gardener” tales are over, a new story just arrived. This time it’s a private family story based on someone’s childhood memories. It’s about three llittle girls, two dogs and one wonderful grandma. Wall decoration is not random. Grandma (the real one) is fond of cross-stitchting and Tutankhamun on the wall is her favourite piece.
I have ruined the order and finished last picture (four more are waiting for coloring). The old man returns with a sack of rotten apples – his last bargain – and of course he’s being kissed by his faithful wife, not scolded. This way he wins the bet he made before and he gets a sack of gold from two rich English gentlemen. Nice story, isn’t it?
In Patsy’s book one more Christmas tree finds home, and Lori is getting better. We are lucky to have a really good vet in our area, if she wasn’t a skilled surgeon, the dog wouldn’t survive. Our convalescent has got amazingly big appetite, so she must feel much better now, it’s not just wishful thinking. She looks rather funny in a tight blue body she’s wearing now – to prevent her from licking her belly – but looking funny is surely better then being that ill.
Old man from Andersen’s story is going to make a series of exchanges when going to the fair, and each of them makes him poorer. This is the first exchange: a horse for a cow. I’m trying to do simultaneously two tasks – this story and the one about Christmas trees – and to take care of our poor dog, too. She’s ill and we aren’t sure what exactly the problem is. Hopefully tomorrow we are told. Great news of the week is that our elder son has got his master degree on September 30th and he’s starting a PhD studies now, but at the moment Chris’s success is overshadowed by Lori’s sore belly.