Piece Of Cake

A number of years ago, a friend of mine made block prints of this well-known Hungarian phrase. It’s a quote from a movie that means, roughly, “Life is not a piece of cake.”

  

It is so very, very perfectly Hungarian.

I’m not sure what I did to merit getting one of these prints. But when it showed up in the mail, it became one of my Favorite Things. And then it remained in its mailing tube for the next four years.

I was determined to have the funds to frame it in exactly the right way. I was also determined to have a permanent spot for it, on a wall that I owned. And, because I am a stubborn cow, the color of the wall had to first be perfect. Which takes some time, if you know me. Not that one matches ones art to ones wall. Just that ones stage must be perfect. And I was not about to hang something on the wall, and then remove it so I could paint. Doing something twice sends me into a rage.

It will probably take me all weekend to hang this art in just the right spot on the perfectly colored wall that I now own.

Yes. It’s exhausting being me.

Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.

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