Okay, so I'm whimsical, not eccentric. My friend "The Amazing" (yes, that's her name) and I went to visit The Concrete Lady north of Louisville, KY, today. Soon I will be the proud owner of a 150 lb. concrete dinosaur, either Dino or Desi. I'm hoping my artist friend Bren will paint Dino or Desi green.
I really wanted a Sinclair-type dinosaur (yup, that's dating myself.) The Concrete Lady had two of them, one was about 400 lbs. and the bigger one was about 700 lbs. Couldn't get them in the back of the old family sedan even with the seat down. Even Dino or Desi needs to be delivered, and my friend and her hubby will be doing the delivering with their truck.
We saw some really wonderful other concrete items. It was all I could do to not buy the matching His and Her Travelocity-type gnomes.
I posed next to this hippo of fun (let’s keep the comments to yourself) and The Amazing tried out the giant hand chair.
On the way west from Louisville I called my eighty-year old father, a man of tradition who has certain opinions about the way things should be. He is already quite chagrined that I’ve removed all the plants around our house and replaced them with rock gardens (I like rocks.)
But today’s conversation devastated him. Did I said, “Hello, Dad, I’m calling from jail because I’ve been picked up for a felony and just for fun I’m going to harm small animals when I get out?”
No, that wasn’t it.
I said, “Dad, I just bought a 150 lb. concrete dinosaur for the back yard.”
Do you remember the scene in "A Christmas Story" when Ralphie is blind and knocks on the door and his father says, "What brought you to this lowly state?"
That's the way my Dad sees this, what brought me to this lowly state?
He was appalled. He was devastated. He was disappointed.
“Well, I didn’t raise you that way.”
(Do you think I should tell him about the painted rooster?”)