Albuquerque morning journal. [volume] (Albuquerque, N.M.) 1903-1926, 1922-10-10

move from post to pillar and from
pillar to post. and it's wonder we
have a stick of furniture at all, at
ALL" my mother has time and again
complained. l like moving. 1t gives
endless opportunity for cabin hunt
ing" That's what mother calls my
favorite pastime of visiting neigh
bors. / can't see why she objects to
this SO furiously. for she surely
misses lot by being such strictly
"homebody." Each new neighbor-
hood we move to in New York city is
rich in adventure for me, and SO
when / see my big sister scanning
the apartment to rent pages OF the
newspapers l sit tight and listen.
Here's the very thing" she called
out last Sunday. Mine rooms, three
baths (three chances for singing
walruses, let's hope, in harmony,
parquet floors, elevator service view
of the Hudson"
whats the TARIFF" my father
cuts short the vision.
From $1,000 up reads Sis.
Enough of that" says father. II
guess Wen stay here a while longer"
ooh, and that wall paper in the
parlor" signs Sis. She is planning
to have her bunch come up to the
house very soon.
One of the inks that makes Sis
doubt whether home sweet home is
the place Of places is the way the
wall paper has Of peeIing and crack
ing up on the bias right over the
piano, or the way the ceiling has of
sun baked prairie, or the way rain
spots stain just where visitors can't
miss them when rolling their eyes to
heaven at some crisis in the tale you
are telling them for entertainment.
If you lived at the Plaza or any
such hotel and the walls and ceiling
took to acting in this trying manner
you could call the manager, who
would call the superintendent. who
would call the buttons to call the
decorator and give him a talking to
and get him to mend matters imme-
diately. But the owner of the apart
ment house is always sidetracking
the redecorating Of your walls be-
cause he has something of greater
Importance ON his mind And should
he ever send a man to kalsomine
the ceiling said barbarian splashes
everything with mortar and you
spend your time cleaning up his
daubing instead of entertaining the
bunch. While landlords are so very
deaf in their redecoration ear fiction
may solace you by extolling the eff
ficacy of mucilage. flour paste,
thumb tacks and chewing gum to
keeping wandering wall covering in
place; but fact has it that all these
are utterly useless if the wall paper
will creak. crack and peel. That's
ours.
las you make your bed you'll lie
in it," is a saying which mother
imported, She had it from her
mother, who was raised on It too.
Whenever you are in the neigh
borhood come right up to our house."
is the standing Invitation to the
world we move in, and to make it
positive there is added, "the latch
string is always on the outside.
This really means you ring the bell
down stairs and walk up three flights.
The larger the family the more
hospitable you'll find it; for one, two
or three more can always be tucked
in by doubling up. singing ham
mocks, pulling out cots or spreading
the pallet thinner on the floor.
Fiction has it the magic pitcher
was the reward of hospitality under
difficulties. Fact would need to
reward large families with a magic
Deu WHICH WOulu SLIelCH anu SlletSh
and never lose it's elastic softness
I don't know where fiction would
put family visitors. We usually have
at least one staying with us. They
sometimes spend their New York
city vacation with us and then go
back home and tell of the grandeur
of the Biltmore or some place like
that where they have had luncheon
or tea. These I dislike immensely.
They always get the beds and we
get the floor. Fiction would chirp
of sacrifice. of Grecian guest friend
ship. The condition actually makes
lRxM