Lucretia Villagraab: Week One
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Dear Gentle Reader,
Upon embarking upon a career as a writer, I reached the conclusion that no one was better equipped to handle the duties of a narrator than I. Consequently, I have added the task of keeping a diary to my long list as a wife, mother, journalist, and dynasty founder.
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The house I bought with the sale of Dennis's mansion is pleasantly large but not inconveniently so. Although it has fewer bathrooms, it also is so appointed as to discourage the inhabitants from carrying their dirty dishes to the third floor for washing.
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One of the first things I did was to get my ancestor's portrait out of storage at the Windenburg Pawn Shop and install it in my bedroom. If this house has a defect, it is that so much of its wall space is devoted to windows that there is hardly any room for art. My hope is that the museum I set up in the yard will provide the space for many beautiful pictures. I wanted to place the portrait in the front hall, but Alice wisely pointed out that it would be exposed to more sunlight there and thus in danger of fading. And since my ancestor reputedly had a horror of sunlight, perhaps it's best that he's in a more dimly lit room.
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No one will ever know of the agony I endured in giving birth, and that's as it should be, as I am essentially a modest and retiring individual. Dennis and I have not decided yet whether we'll have another. I would like to see how Martha turns out. If she inherits my milk-white complexion and jade green eyes, then a second child would be superfluous.
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Despite the pain she caused me, I do love Martha dearly.
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Martha is not the only child in the house. Dennis's daughter Alice has a husband, and they have a child Olivia. She is learning how to play the piano, which will be a useful skill for when I start throwing parties.
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I am in something of a quandary now that Martha is a toddler. She did inherit my jade green eyes and chestnut tresses, but not my complexion. That aside, she is quite a sociable little girl and has her father wrapped around her tiny finger.
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Dennis and I are both encouraging Martha to develop her imagination. Dennis has been reading bedtime stories to her.
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I have been playing pirates with her. "Avast, me hearties! Anchors aweigh! To the mizzen mast!" -- and that's the extent of my pirate vocabulary.
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Over the weekend, Alice went to the Deadgrass Discoveries museum and took Eric with her. They came home filled with enthusiasm for the wonderful view of the ocean from the lighthouse.
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They also rendered the question of a second child for me and Dennis moot. That is probably just as well. A second child would certainly be taxing, and there's no guarantee that she would resemble me at all.
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I must perforce bring this narration to an end. I see out the window that my little darling is racing towards her pirate ship.
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I would call Dennis to run after her, but he is occupied with repairing the dishwasher.
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Besides, I have yet another slim volume of verse to send off to my publisher, so I might as well venture out into the sunlight, no matter how injurious it is to my complexion. Until next time! L.V.
