I was saying here yesterday that my house was like the Mark Twain House in Hartford Connecticut but then the only photo I showed by way of proof was of a couch that’s like another couch in my childhood home! Stupid girl straying from the point! So anyway here are the similarities:
Both the Mark Twain House and this house have statues of a naked lady nude by the window. This is theirs below here, and this is ours on the left.
My wonderful artist-cousin Tebby George sculpted our Blue Lady as we call her and I have to say we all love her. Whenever a baby is in the house getting carried around the place like a tiny God the way babies manage to do, it always reaches out a little starfish of a hand and pats one of her breasts. Very sweet.
Both houses also have a big billiard room on the third floor. His is super-fancy with pictures of pool cues painted onto the wall. Ours is less fancy but that’s what they called it all the same, I guess since the place was built in the 1890s. They always called the big room at the top of the third floor stairs the ‘billiard room’, anyway that’s the term I’ve heard all my life, though I myself didn’t come into contact with billiards ‘til that night at the Twist ‘n Shout when I was 21 and everyone in the place was drunk including the bartender.
So this is the Mark Twain’s billiard room…
….and this is ours. The dress-up closet is also in this room, which though it gets heavy use when little ones are around we mostly use it for guests. And for the treadmill. And for hanging articles of clothing on the treadmill before lying disown on the bed for a nice nap ha ha.
Oh and for keeping the ghost from the attic up in the attic (but that another story. This small person got used to the ghost in the attic crawl space when he was only three. (As you can see, it turned his hair white.)
Finally both houses have a boatload of potted palms and I am here to tell you that our palms get better care from me then David does. I should say that this is Abraham among the palm fronds just two years before he went to Heaven in search of his sister Charlotte. (How we miss them!)
So there it is: how my place is like Mark Twain’s place. Now I’d LIKE to tell you that I’M actually like the great man himself but it wouldn’t be true – except when it comes to our two mustaches of course, and I have to say mine is really starting to come in good now . 🙂