Tag Archive for: Evelyn David

August Fun in the Ozarks

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I usually end up taking my vacation from my “day job” in August. I say from my “day job” because I’m not sure writers ever take a vacation from writing or from thinking about writing. I’m still officially on vacation until Tuesday. I’ll spend the remaining days doing some home maintenance and plotting out a new stand-alone novel.

As I’m writing this blog, I’m eyeing the unpacked bags stacked on my living room floor. A few hours previously, I’d returned from a three day trip to Eureka Springs, Arkansas with a side trip on Tuesday to Branson, Missouri. A three day trip required two soft-side suitcases, my laptop, my camera, an ice chest, and a tote for miscellaneous stuff that wouldn’t fit into one of the other bags. I hate lugging so much stuff in and out of the hotel and car, but I just can’t seem to do with less. I count this last trip as a success since I didn’t forget to pack anything vital and I didn’t leave anything behind. (Note: whoever was staying the cabin 1003 before me left behind a green cotton t-shirt – sized small. It’s still hanging in the closet if you’re looking for it.)

Speaking of cabins, my brother and I stayed at a cabin at the Crescent Hotel in Eureka Springs, Arkansas. Last year we stayed in regular rooms in the hotel proper. The cabins were a much better experience! I love visiting old buildings, but I like sleeping in new ones with air conditioning and updated plumbing. The cabin we stayed in was wonderful – two bedrooms, two baths, full kitchen, fireplace, deck, three flat screen televisions, excellent satellite reception, and wireless internet. With the floor to ceiling windows on the side facing the valley below – it felt like we were staying in a very elegant tree house.

The Crescent Hotel is a famous destination for weddings and – since being featured on Ghost Hunters – a hot spot for ghost tours. We were there for the ghost tour. Last year’s tour was wonderful – this year’s not so much. Have you noticed whenever something really good also becomes very popular, the quality almost immediately goes down? The first time there were about 20 people taking the tour. This week’s tour included almost three times that number. Everyone was stepping on each other in the narrow hallways, snapping photos of the back of someone’s head, and trying to hear the tour guide over the murmurings of the crowd. I’m sure the ghosts found better places to hang out – about halfway through, I did too.

But even with an absence of ghosts, the time I spent sitting in a rocker on the hotel veranda, watching an evening thunderstorm roll in, made the whole trip worthwhile.

On Tuesday we drove to Branson and went through the Titanic Museum. The self-guided tour included many interactive exhibits. Nothing like sitting in a lifeboat and listening to the stories of survivors of the sinking to put an Atlantic chill in your bones. Don’t confuse this museum with the traveling Titanic exhibits with items salvaged from the ship. The Titanic Museum in Branson offers fun doses of history and replicas of some of the ship staterooms and radio telegraph equipment, but no recovered items from the actual sunken ship. This museum is a great destination for history buffs and kids of all ages. I really wanted the “Rose Doll” (modeled on the character in the Titanic movie) sold in the gift ship, but I refrained. My house already has too many dolls – and I hardly ever play with them!

I did buy a book while I was away, In the Woods, a mystery by Tana French. I’m about a 100 pages into it and I’m hooked. Can’t wait to finish it.

I hope everyone managed some type of vacation this summer – even if it’s just a few hours on the deck with a good mystery!

Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com/

Vacation Memories with a Smile

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We took our summer vacation last November. When folks ask us where we are going this summer, we’re happy to whip out 50 of our best photos from our trip to visit our daughter in Scotland last Thanksgiving. I notice that people tend not to pursue the conversation further.

I once did an article on traveling with children and an expert I interviewed advised parents not to think of those trips as vacations. Rather, it’s just experiencing family life in a different location. She had a point. No matter where we went, there was always laundry to be done, meals to be figured out, and squabbling to contend with.

Family vacations take on a mythic lore only after you are back home. Then the minor inconveniences (or major ones like the time the entire backyard of the house we rented was covered in tiny cacti!) are the stuff of family legends. Some of our family trips make the movie National Lampoon’s Vacation look like an expensive guided tour.

Like the stream that was described in the brochure as straight out of a Huck Finn adventure, which was instead 30 degrees in August, and didn’t come up to our ankles, once we dipped our toes in it. Or the hike to the top of the mountain in the middle of August that was advertised as experiencing winter in the summer (and why did that seem like a good idea?), which was instead, a sliver of ice between two rocks and more black flies than found in a stable of horses. Or the ski vacation in the Poconos, when we all attempted the bunny slope in the pouring rain. One by one the children went up the rope tow line, let go about half way up what they were describing as Mt. Everest, but was approximately a 20 degree angle and maybe 100 feet high. In any case, first son goes half way up the mountain, lets go of the rope, and immediately drops into a heap unable to get himself up. Son number three follows him, stops a few feet before him, falls into a heap, unable to get up. Son number two, daredevil that he was, holds onto the rope all the way to the top. Screams triumphantly, and immediately falls into a heap…unable to get up.

Father of this crew starts up the same rope tow line (see a pattern here?), falls into a heap – but flips himself over, takes off the d**n skis, and plods his way from one wailing kid to another, unbuckling skis, and standing each child upright to walk down the slope. Mother of the tribe was at the bottom, alternately a little concerned, but also trying desperately not to fall to the ground in hysterics at yet another family vacation gone to Hell in a Handbasket.

Family vacations are part of the glue that binds us to another. Who else will remember the trip to Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream Factory? All of us were atwitter at the concept of a free ice cone. The flavor of the day was Chunky Monkey. With no disrespect to a fine company that does good works, the banana flavor was gross. All six cones, including the one for the then year-old baby daughter, were immediately dumped into the nearest garbage can, with attendant wailing at pitches known to shatter glass. Only Nana, who had politely declined the freebie, and instead paid for her own delicious flavor in a cup, was happy. Obviously, the only solution was to buy ice cream cones for everyone. But now, years later, all anyone has to do to ensure guffaws all around is whisper Chunky Monkey.

This summer is a staycation. We’re enjoying reminiscing about our family forays – and planning a new one. Maybe we can find somewhere that has a rope tow to an ice cream factory?

Where are you headed this summer?

Evelyn David

Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David
Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com

Good Fences

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I would never just walk into someone’s house. Even if I’d known them for years. I do not take an open or unlocked door as an invitation to enter without permission. But that’s not the case for many – especially in Oklahoma. To counter this, I keep my doors locked – all the time. I’d lock the gates to my backyard if I could, but with no alley, meter readers etc, need access.

My house sits on a long narrow lot, surrounded by smaller square lots. Which means instead of one house on my left, one to my right, and one behind me – I have two on my right, two on my left, and one way, way out back. In other words – I’m surrounded by lots of people.

To counter the feeling that anytime I step outside someone is watching, I’ve planted shrubs and trees and other thick foliage along the four foot chain-link fence that borders my backyard. You’d think this would be enough to ensure my privacy. But it seems like whenever I’m mowing, weeding, or doing anything outside, I have company. Kids who want to sell me candy or magazine subscriptions for their latest school fund raising project, strangers wanting to use the phone, strangers wanting me to pay them to mow my yard, strangers inviting me to their church, and neighbors just wanting to chat as I lug in my groceries.

I’m not a person who likes to chat. I don’t want to know everyone’s business. I’d probably be very happy living in the country with no neighbors playing loud music late on Sunday nights (what reasonable person parties on Sunday nights anyway?); no neighbors using power equipment outside at 8 am on Saturdays; and no neighbors having abusive midnight conversations with their soon to be ex-spouses as they make their way from slamming front door to slamming car door (note: if you’re leaving forever, for heaven’s sake just do it and shut up about it.)

My day job requires me to talk to all kinds of people all day long. Sometimes I spend most of the day on the telephone dealing with problems. I’ve done this for more than 25 years. I only have so much goodwill to give each day. When I come home, I want to do the Greta Garbo thing – I want to be alone.

I treasure my privacy. I want to come home, roll up the drawbridge, and keep the world out. To achieve this, I try not to engage my neighbors in idle conversation. I wave from a distance and hope they do the same. Usually it works, but not always. I had one senior citizen neighbor who insisted on getting my mail out of my mailbox and holding it for me when I was travelling. Sometimes he did it when I was just late getting home from work for the day. This necessitated me checking with him whenever I returned to see if he had any of my mail. I finally got a locking mailbox and that solved one problem.

Now the neighbor to the right of me has moved out. He was one of my favorite neighbors. In twenty years, we’d only had three or four conversations: once when he broke my bathroom window with a rock from his riding lawn mover; once when he cut a tree down and it landed on my fence; once when I found a dying kitten in my backyard (since he had cats, I thought it was one of his. It wasn’t but he took it anyway) and once when he let me know he was moving. Even with the accidents, he was my idea of a good neighbor.

New people are in the process of moving in. If I was a better person, I’d bake some cookies and take them over, but I wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea. Best to start the way I want to go on.

I’ll smile and wave at them as I fill my moat and feed the alligators. Hopefully, they’ll get the message.

Robert Frost had it right. Good fences make good neighbors.

Any neighbor stories you want to share?

Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com

Clunkers for Cash? Not Me

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I think there are two kinds of people in the world: those for whom a car is a work of art, to be studied, admired, and coveted. And those for whom an automobile is a way of getting from one place to another. Ours is a mixed marriage. The hubby grabs the automotive section of the paper first. Maybe even before sports. Me? I want to turn the key and go. What the car looks like is irrelevant. Reliable is all I ask.

Which is why my very favorite automobile is now 14 years old. We’ve jerry-rigged the air-conditioning. It doesn’t have a CD player. There are no heated seats. I’m not sure how many times the odometer has turned over, but I don’t care because this old car just keeps chugging along. Since I’m not interested in a new model, the clunkers for cash government program doesn’t work for me. My husband says this antique of ours is no longer fit for long trips, but where am I going?

Some folks love the smell of a new car. Me? I love the fact that I can get into my car and remember the picnics held in those seats on days when it rained and we couldn’t stand being in the house another second. I smile when I think about the long talks I had with each of my kids as we barreled down the highway (and why do sex questions with teens always pop up when you’re going 60 miles an hour in heavy traffic?). I cringe slightly at some of the more heated arguments my husband and I had in the car – but sometimes it was the only place we could be alone and figure out a solution to a problem without the intrusion of children or dog. I relax when I’m in that car, recalling the naps taken during long drives to visit relatives in far-away states.

Son number two has been talking about needing a station car – and hinting, none too subtly, that my old clunker would nicely serve that purpose. He’s probably right. It would be an easy retirement for my faithful motorized servant. But I’m tempted to give him one of our newer cars (new being a relative term since we own no car less than five years old). They don’t have the memories or the old car smell.

For me, getting into my old car, with all the memories, is like Cinderella getting into the pumpkin. With a bibbity-boppity-boo, or a more mundane turn of the key, the transformation is complete. Both become gilded carriages – and we’ll both get to the ball (or supermarket) on time. But at least my pumpkin won’t break down at the stroke of midnight!

What’s your car IQ?

Evelyn David

Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David
Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com/

Under Review

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What I learned this week:

Twitter can be fun.

The Swine Flu Vaccine will be ready soon, but in such limited supply, I won’t see any.

It’s time to get new towels.

Brenda’s cat, Kitty, died.

Leverage has returned for its second season on TNT.

I have a printer stand for my office arriving tomorrow (see last week’s post).

Good intentions don’t get the house cleaned.

Shark Week is coming.

I can’t cook squash – well.

Stories about Amelia Earhart’s disappearance still fascinate me.

Sometimes drug stores have great sales on items for author auction baskets.

I should buy more fresh peaches.

Dogs might be psychic.

Just because you’re talking, doesn’t mean anyone is listening.

Only one Republican judiciary committee member voted for Sonya Sotomayor.

Despite what some politicians are saying, none of the health care draft reform bills contain a clause promoting euthanasia of people over 65.

President Obama needs a “jeans” intervention.

I haven’t read a book for pleasure this whole month.

Braums milk is the best.

The economy is turning around – the value of my 401k increased by 1/3 in last three months.

Birthers are just plain silly.

I might be going to Chicago in late October – beats my February trips.

Colin Powell is a national treasure.

I will never like liver, no matter how it’s smothered.

The Terminator carries a big knife and issues I.O.U.s

Most ghost tours shut down for the month of August – just like Congress.

I miss watching The West Wing.

Bare Minerals makeup is incredible.

I spend less if I only get $20 out of the ATM per trip.

Dogs love Funyons.

I need to start getting to bed before midnight.

I still don’t like chicken wings and beer – I don’t like them separately either.

Writing a blog every week is hard work.

Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com

Careful Word Choices

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As a writer, a fiction writer, I’m always looking for the exact word or phrase that will telegraph immediately to the reader what is happening in a scene. Ideally, I want the reader to be enthralled by the action, not left scratching her head or reaching for the dictionary to check the definition of my choice.

Usually, with enough rewrites and tweaking back and forth between the two halves of Evelyn David, we settle on the perfect word for the situation.

Here’s the dilemma. Irish wolfhounds, like Whiskey, the adored and adorable character in Murder Off the Books and Murder Takes the Cake, don’t bark. Or at least, they don’t bark like Lassie. They rumble, they boof, they definitely communicate, but bark, like Benji or Beethoven, or any of the other big screen canine idols, nope, that’s not how an Irish wolfhound sounds.

But when we use the verb, bark, despite full knowledge that it’s not exactly accurate, we’re trying to use a common term that the reader will understand. Whiskey is talking – we’re less concerned about the sound she makes, than about her efforts to communicate. For example, in Murder Takes the Cake, we wrote:

“Whiskey?” Rachel sighed and stroked the dog’s head. “Okay, I know your first loyalties lie with him, but it doesn’t feel very good to always be an afterthought. Don’t you think I deserve to be more than a minor character in this little drama Mac calls his life? If he survives, we’re going to have a serious discussion.”

This time Whiskey’s bark sounded much more like agreement.

On the other hand, we want to acknowledge, as several wolfhound owners have pointed out to us, that these gentle giants sound different than other dogs. It would be as if we called the Chicago rapid transit system the Metro instead of the L. For most readers outside of Chicago, it probably wouldn’t matter. But for those who do know exactly what the train system in the Windy City is called – it breaks the action, takes the reader outside the story.

Our solution – we think – is, in the next book in the series, have Rachel comment to Mac about the timbre and tone of Whiskey’s “voice.”

Any other ideas?

Evelyn David

Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David
Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com

Adjustments

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The new office is finally beginning to feel like some place I’m supposed to be every day – not just a port in the storm.

Readers that have been keeping up with my blog entries know that my new day job office was completed about a month later than promised. As a result my co-workers and I were forced to work from our homes and cars for about thirty days. It was fun for about two.

But that trauma is almost a memory (not really but I’m working on it). We moved in to our new digs on July 1. Movers brought our old furniture and files the next day and we’ve been unpacking boxes ever since, trying to become a functional office once more.

The Xerox machine was a week late. We’ve discovered we can do very little without a copier. Another week and we would have had to hire a scribe.

We’ve got a new telephone system and crib notes on how to operate it. I still don’t know how to forward calls to another extension. I’m doing a lot of shouting, “XXX, pick up on line one!”

Our new furniture arrived last week. Now we have a mix of post WWII grey steel and 2009 extra special wood veneer particle board. Okay, the new stuff is better than that, but I bet the WWII filing cabinets still outlast our new ones.

The office is approximately 1700 square feet with tiny private offices along two sides and one large communal area that we’ve sectioned off with a wall of filing cabinets and bookcases. It’s actually very nice. And the construction is mostly new – only the concrete slab and steel frame was left from the old building.

Tile floor is throughout, except for the small private offices. The builder ran out of time – actually I might have threatened to shorten his life span if he didn’t hurry up – and he had to use carpet in the individual offices. After walking on the tile for a few weeks, I’m glad it’s not all tile – my joints are protesting.

The building we leased for fifteen plus years before our move was in terrible shape. No upgrading or maintenance had been done for most of that time and we had to get out. We were demanding improvements and the landlord didn’t see the need. The old space was a little bit larger and had a store room we miss, but we surely won’t miss the leaky roof, intermittent heating, or rampant rodent infestation. Seriously, last winter we were almost overrun by mice.

Anyway, that’s all in the past. The parking lot here isn’t finished yet, but in another couple of weeks that will be done. I have a glass door in my new office (instead of a window) and I can watch the workmen pouring a new sidewalk within inches of my door. Will be a great place for a pot of flowers or my rock. Yes, I have a rock. A big rock. It was thrown by a blast from a mining company through the roof of a residence. I keep it to remind me, and the mining company, why the mining regulations are so important. At 150 pounds it’s a little big to move around, but it really makes my point at hearings.

I’m glad to be in the new building, thankful the move was paid for before the state’s economy went south. In Oklahoma we’re only now beginning to feel the pinch that other states have been dealing with for awhile. Our agency budget has been slashed for the next twelve months. I think we’ll have to buy our own ink pens and paper this coming year, but we also won’t be fighting off invading hoards of mice – seems like a fair trade to me.

Just have to figure out how we’ll use our new dishwasher-sized printer. We had money for the printer, but not the $700 stand to hold it. I think the vendor really intended them to be sold as a set. But if you don’t have the money, you don’t have the money. State governments – or at least our state government – can’t run up deficits.

Back to the printer, it’s sitting on the floor. We don’t have a spare piece of furniture that is big enough or sturdy enough to hold it. If we plugged it in now, the printed documents would be shooting out across the tile floor and landing under the new conference table. I’ll have to figure something out.

Hey, if the public complains about state workers laying down on the job, you’ll know at least one reason – no printer stands.

Evelyn David

Bargain Hunting?

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When I was a kid, shopping with my mother was an adventure. You got dressed up in your “good” clothes, went downtown, had an adult salesperson who remembered your name help you, bought what you needed, charged it on a store charge account, and then had lunch in the store restaurant that had linen napkins! There were three department stores in town, my mother had a favorite, and we probably did 90% of our shopping there. I believe I just outed myself as old, old, old.

But today, especially in this economy, I feel like shopping isn’t so much an adventure, as a big game, and I’m constantly losing. Store loyalty? I don’t think so.

Last week, I had a series of doctors’ appointments. The only reason this is significant is because I was unable to go into a certain store with my daughter on Tuesday. We arrived on Wednesday afternoon and she selected a significant amount of clothing that added up to $300. To me, that’s a lot of money. Maybe not as much as Tori Spelling drops on one outfit, but still a chunk of change that I would think any store would welcome.

We got to the checkout, and there sitting on the top of the register, was a sign that said, “10% off every Tuesday.” I thought for a moment and asked, very politely, if there weren’t some way to take advantage of the sale since I had been unable to come to the store the previous day. The two young saleswomen said “no.” I asked to speak to the manager. They looked at each other, then one nodded to the other as if she were the one in charge, and she again repeated that there was nothing to be done.

Now I’m sure an argument can rightly be made that rules are rules, and that I was only entitled to the 10% discount if I had arrived a day earlier — or were willing to wait another week. But it just seems stupid to me to sacrifice a hefty sale like that when I was in a national chain that has had plummeting profits for months. Nor does it make much sense to essentially tell me I was a chump for paying $30 more than I would have a day earlier. Or that for all practical purposes, the store was suggesting that you should only shop on Tuesdays, otherwise there were penalties to be paid. In short, I would suggest that if nothing else, they should have taken down the sign.

So I voted with my feet and walked out. I didn’t feel a bit triumphant. In fact, I apologized repeatedly to my daughter, who kept reassuring me that she completely supported my decision.

The final coda to this retail tale was found online. I ran a Google search and discovered that if I signed up for email alerts from this national chain, I would receive an immediate $15 credit plus free shipping. I found 5 of the 7 items and ordered them. The company still lost approximately $100 since they didn’t have two of the pieces my daughter had wanted.

But is this any way to run a business? I get that there are rules — but was it worth it to that local branch to lose a good sale? Had the help been clever, they would have at least suggested that my daughter open a store charge account in her name and get an immediate discount. But today, too often the personnel don’t care about the customer or about the company that employs them – and I suspect the company doesn’t show much concern about employees or customers.

Or maybe, as I began, I’m just old, old, old – and cranky.

What do you think?

Evelyn David

The Movies That Keep You Up At Night!

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I admit it. There are certain movies I can’t resist watching over and over.

You know them. It’s late. You need to be in bed. You’re working the next day. You do a little channel surfing before turning off the tv and there it is. The movie you can never click past. It’s caught you one more time.

Whether it’s the plot, the music, the scenery, the dialogue, the cast or a combination of all five – there’s just something about it that pushes all your “I love this movie” buttons.

I was caught by four of my favorites this past week. Note to self: after 9 pm skip TNT and AMC channels.

These are the ones that I love to watch again and again – my top ten, stay up late, and quote the lines movies.

1. The Hunt for Red October
2. Jaws
3. The Undefeated
4. True Grit
5. Steel Magnolias
6. While You Were Sleeping
7. BAT 21
8. The Client
9. The Rookie
10. Independence Day
Honorable mentions – Medicine Man, Shenandoah, Dances with Wolves, Die Hard, Stand by Me.

One thing all of the movies listed above have in common are well developed characters that you can care about. You want the heroes and heroines to succeed in their quest. You cry. You laugh out loud. You cheer when the alien ship is destroyed, when the shark is turned into sushi, when the question is popped, when the couple rides off into the sunset or a snowstorm one step ahead of those chasing them. These are movies that make you feel something – the love of country, the fear of the unknown, the melancholy pangs of loss, the unrelenting hunger for justice, the comforting endurance of good friends, the pain of loneliness, the power of trust, the fun of outwitting an opponent, the joy of achieving a dream, and the exhilaration of overcoming all odds.

These are great movies that will stand the test of time. A check of my list shows most already have.

How about you? What are the movies you’ll watch over and over? And hey, if it’s a movie you can’t sit through twice in a row, you don’t love it enough to put it on this list!

Evelyn David

Some Assembly Required

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I purchased a vacuum cleaner yesterday – a Hoover Wind Tunnel Bagged & Bagless with Pet Hair tool.

I don’t have a pet, but since I have long hair …

I got the Hoover because I’ve always had Hoovers. This will be my fourth in 25 years. So not a bad track record. My old Hoover upright still had a lot of suction but the last two times I used it … well there was this burning odor. Made me nervous. Plus it made the house smell like an ashtray. Remember those? Do people even have ashtrays any more?

Okay – back to the vacuum cleaner story.

So … I’ve been looking on-line to find the perfect vacuum cleaner. Okay, an almost perfect vacuum cleaner. The perfect one would have a maid attached. I also had to consider price. I didn’t want my vacuum cleaner to cost more than my car.

I also wanted to try a bagless vacuum. I have a terrible time remembering to buy vacuum cleaner bags and then when I remember to buy them, I can’t remember what kind of bag my vacuum cleaner needs. So a bagless vacuum seems like a good solution.

Of course I’ve heard that bagless vacuums have less suction power than bagged vacuums. And I do have lots of allergies – in particular an allergy to house dust. But don’t you think that if I will use a bagless vacuum more often because I don’t have to fool with bags, that fact would even out the negative of less suction?

When I found this model that offered both a bagged and a bagless option on the same vacuum, I bought it. I ordered it on line, then picked it up at the store. No shipping costs that way.

The box holding the vacuum was at least four feet tall. That freaked me out a little, but after I got it and the packing out of the box it was the regulation height for an upright vacuum.

Then the hard part started. A label on the box indicated that there was some assembly required. Always a bad sign. If the manufacturer is going to put something in a box that is almost twice the size of the item, why can’t they send it assembled?

The handle was not attached to the vacuum. The hose carrier was not attached. I got out my reading glasses and a screw driver.

There was a little piece of cardboard on the handle that had a message in size 6 font – it said, “Remove before attaching handle.” So I removed it. A little annoyed that I had to assemble anything, I vigorously removed it. The cardboard was holding four screws that I didn’t see before ripping the cardboard off. I spent about 30 minutes searching the carpet for the four screws that had gone flying.

After finally attaching the handle and hose carrier, I was ready to check out the bagged and bagless canisters. You choose one and insert it into the vacuum assembly. The bagged option had a bag already in the canister. The bag was attached to a plastic piece. The plastic piece should have been hooked at the top and bottom to the canister – it wasn’t. I spent about an hour trying to attach it.

Finally I took the bag off the plastic piece and then worked to attach the plastic piece into two tiny slots on the canister. I was afraid I was going to break the canister. There was a tag on the plastic piece that said, “Do Not Remove.” No kidding!

Apparently in the shipping process someone had removed it. Two broken nails and 30 minutes later, the plastic piece was snapped into the canister. Then I added the bag.

Finally assembled, it looked very nice – black, smoky gray, with a copper colored chassis.

I should have plugged it in last night and tried it out.

But it was late when I finished, almost 9 pm. I’d been at it for 3 hours.

I think that’s enough housework for any one day.

I guess I should have held out for the model with the maid.

Evelyn David