Harriet Hardin Quotes in The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek
I had also seen the feminine hygiene advertisements in magazines and newspapers. The pictures of the weeping lady with a dainty hankie to her eyes showed she’d been a good mother, good housekeeper, good hostess, good cook, all those things, until 6:00pm.
The feminine wash advertisement scolded the sad lady, insisted the perfect homemaker did one disgraceful thing her husband couldn’t forgive by forgetting her smelly lady parts. It warned womenfolk about the dangers of neglecting intimate personal hygiene and reminded them to use the feminine wash to keep from wrecking a marriage. A powerful germicide, the product promised, and one that removes all kind of powerful things and even stranger things I’d never heard of like “organic matter” […] It will keep your man happy and is a surety for a happy marriage.
“Oh my,” she said. “So pretty, and the prettiest li’l daisy I’ve ever seen. Isn’t that right, Samuel?” She jiggled him up and down on her hip. The baby squealed with delight, poked a finger into his drooling mouth, and grinned at me. “Yessir, our Bluet’s a looker, and one the boys are gonna want to hook,” she told him teasingly. “And look at you, Samuel, already a’flirtin.’”
Harriett walked out of the ladies’ room.
“Uh-huh. One pretty lady,” Birdie said.
Harriett’s heel landed beside me. She leaned her head dangerously close to min. “A pig in lipstick is still a stinking pig,” she spat, her wet hiss spinning in the air as she swept past me to her desk.
I turned. Her red eyes bored into mine. And I held them, locked, and lifted my chin two-man tall, snatching back some of the humankind that had been stolen.
“Where’s my manners? I hope you get to feeling pert soon, ma’am. I miss seeing my bonny Picasso.” He grinned.
I stared at him blankly, and he added, “Picasso’s painting of the pretty blue lady, the Woman with a Helmet of Hair that I’d seen in one of the magazines you brought us? You remind me of her. Your fine color. My woman always said God saved that best color for His home.” He pointed a finger up to a patch of blue sky parting the gray clouds. “Guess He must’ve had Himself a little bit left over.”
Astonished, I could feel my face warm. No one, not a soul, ever said that my old color was fine. The best.
Harriet Hardin Quotes in The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek
I had also seen the feminine hygiene advertisements in magazines and newspapers. The pictures of the weeping lady with a dainty hankie to her eyes showed she’d been a good mother, good housekeeper, good hostess, good cook, all those things, until 6:00pm.
The feminine wash advertisement scolded the sad lady, insisted the perfect homemaker did one disgraceful thing her husband couldn’t forgive by forgetting her smelly lady parts. It warned womenfolk about the dangers of neglecting intimate personal hygiene and reminded them to use the feminine wash to keep from wrecking a marriage. A powerful germicide, the product promised, and one that removes all kind of powerful things and even stranger things I’d never heard of like “organic matter” […] It will keep your man happy and is a surety for a happy marriage.
“Oh my,” she said. “So pretty, and the prettiest li’l daisy I’ve ever seen. Isn’t that right, Samuel?” She jiggled him up and down on her hip. The baby squealed with delight, poked a finger into his drooling mouth, and grinned at me. “Yessir, our Bluet’s a looker, and one the boys are gonna want to hook,” she told him teasingly. “And look at you, Samuel, already a’flirtin.’”
Harriett walked out of the ladies’ room.
“Uh-huh. One pretty lady,” Birdie said.
Harriett’s heel landed beside me. She leaned her head dangerously close to min. “A pig in lipstick is still a stinking pig,” she spat, her wet hiss spinning in the air as she swept past me to her desk.
I turned. Her red eyes bored into mine. And I held them, locked, and lifted my chin two-man tall, snatching back some of the humankind that had been stolen.
“Where’s my manners? I hope you get to feeling pert soon, ma’am. I miss seeing my bonny Picasso.” He grinned.
I stared at him blankly, and he added, “Picasso’s painting of the pretty blue lady, the Woman with a Helmet of Hair that I’d seen in one of the magazines you brought us? You remind me of her. Your fine color. My woman always said God saved that best color for His home.” He pointed a finger up to a patch of blue sky parting the gray clouds. “Guess He must’ve had Himself a little bit left over.”
Astonished, I could feel my face warm. No one, not a soul, ever said that my old color was fine. The best.