Because, I am a writer, it’s hard to take a picture and not tell the tale. For years, my folks’ place in Dallas has had a pool. Sure didn’t have that degree of luxury when my sister and I lived there, no this was a retirement home. One guest bedroom. Hard for both kids to be home at the same time. Planned that way. I’m sure.
Owing to my own “Wee Mum’s” truly Southern (with Gothic overtones) sensibilities?
Sister and I have, for years, dreamed of this statue as an adornment for the pool.
A lovely addition, I would think. Sister concurs.
Along the road, concrete river between Austin and San Antonio proper? There’s a place that sells “concrete art.” Statuary. Bird baths, fountains, the big concrete gorillas, any number of items, including, that one pictured. The replica of a statue in – oh it’s in one of those tiny European counties. Belgium? France? Netherlands? One of them, maybe Copenhagen? Why did they name a town after snuff? I wonder if there’s a Skoal, too. I preferred Skoal – when I used to dip. Found that dipping had an adverse reaction from many females. Don’t do that any more. Dip. Still have adverse reactions from some females – without the dip. Go figure.
No accounting for tastes.
So, although I finally located a replica statue, for starters, I can’t afford an expensive mistake, and for finishers, I’m not sure it would really be welcomed anymore. Not even sure Sister would share the blame and cost.
I got the picture, after years of looking.
I still think it’s funny.
