Stairwell



I stayed up late Sunday night, working on the hallway and staircase again. With the carpet gone, the area looked even more naked than before with its wood floors and smooth, sand-colored walls.


And I still had some angst to burn; you know, about that whole hard-drive disaster.


So, I decided to tackle another project I’ve put off, and that was hanging up our portraits along the stairs. We have boxes full of frames down in our basement, collected over the years. And lord knows we have a lot of photos – maternity, newborn, school, military, family, even the “Marilyn Monroe” photos I had taken before I deployed – all stored in a neat row of folders in my scrapbook room, which has been woefully abandoned the past few months. I grabbed those folders, too, and got to work in the hallway.

Miss C stretched out on the floor next to me as we listened to old-school Madonna on my CD player, sorting through all of them. First, we picked our favorite photos, then selected frames for each portrait; our options were silver, black, wood and glass/no frame. Then, she helped me align them before I hammered them in.

It took the whole evening. Martin came around every now and then, and let us know what he thought. He didn’t mind that he was featured in just a few of them.

“I like looking at my girls,” he said.

Well, now, he can hardly miss us!