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| Dandelion Chain Painting by Ruth Van Egmond of Original Fine Art, Victoria, B.C. |
Review, Revision, Edit and Update
I've often thought that, although Dez started out this whole little saga, she has almost taken a back seat to her sister. In this Episode, curious about what seemed almost unfair, she spent the day in her own home. There was little to revise - some sentence structure, a misspelling corrected - but in general an interesting view into Dez's life.
Fitting
Desperanza Dawn Eliot was curious. There were a lot of things going on that could be the reason for her curiosity, but none of them had to do with her life. Emmie’s predicament about Carrie Tyler was only connected to her because they were related. James and Martha, good, good people newly married, because they worked for Emmie. Brigitte, another of Emmie’s employees, had vied with Dez for Martha’s home. Dez decided that her own apartment was her home, so she allowed any competition to fizzle out. Giles was just a likeable guy, always smiling and cheerful while he chauffeured her sister around and maintained the vehicles. Cook was just Cook. A nice person to be around, always taking care of everyone, she served up a good bowl of soup or a large slice of apple pie. Samuel. Samuel was a good man. He was full of wisdom and stories intertwined and sprinkled with the scent of newly turned soil and warmth of the sunshine.
No, her curiosity was about where she fit in to this funny little community. She had questioned this before, then, distracted and busy with her work for Mr. Jorgensson or in the orchard on Emmie’s estate, she forgot it all. Maybe, she thought, just maybe, she didn’t have to ‘fit in’ anywhere but her own home. The surprise for Dez was that she was calm and satisfied in the knowing. Confident, at ease. In her home, she could do what she enjoyed. When on the estate, although Emmie’s sister, she was also her employee as Project Manager of the orchard. A rather silly title, in Dez’s opinion, but one that granted her a sense of place and belonging.
While Dez was doing all this ruminating and muddling, she had pulled out her canvases and paints from a store room that was really the pantry. She barely had enough jars of spaghetti sauce, boxes of pasta and cans of soup to fit on one shelf. It left a lot of space that she filled with whatever wouldn’t fit in her cupboards. No rhyme, reason or order for the pots and pans, innumerable personal drink containers and all her art supplies stacked higgelty piggelty, they patiently waiting for a day such as this. Propping up the mop and broom, she pushed the scrub pail out of her way to get to her easel. She set it up in her bright kitchen, filled a little container with water, got out her paints and as any good artist will tell you, stared at her blank canvas. With wild abandon, Dez took one of her largest brushes, filled it with ultramarine blue and painted a magnificent arc across the canvas. In an air of ‘ze great artiste!’ she chose another brush and another colour - brilliant fuchsia splashed across the canvas to outline the ultramarine blue. Mindful of her neighbours, she cranked up her stereo while she painted. Rolling Stones, Willie Nelson, Stevie Ray Vaughn all sang to her and with her.
For a brief moment, paint brush in her teeth, pouring water into the tea kettle, Dez started to laugh out loud. The brush fell on the floor with splash of dandelion yellow. She left the tea kettle in the sink, turned and leaned back against the counter and just kept laughing. Dez was laughing at herself. Following her instinct to dive into the pantry for canvas and colour, without looking, she found it. Quite literally, at the end of each day, Desperanza Dawn Eliot fit in at home with her own messes.
“Omigosh - I’m a squash!”
~ Dave Horowitz, The Ugly Pumpkin
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