My appreciation of The Annunciation<\/em> reached its pinnacle during a span of self-imposed social isolation. Challenges–medical, relationship, dental and parking\u2014leeched me of all desire to mingle. When I wasn\u2019t at work I was home, curled up with a novel or hunched over a jigsaw puzzle.<\/p>\n For someone who abhorred red lights, waiting on lines or being put on hold, I showed tremendous fortitude in assembling 1,500 to 2,000 piece jigsaw puzzles. Hours found me searching for that one elusive piece that would connect a flower to its stem or complete a nymph\u2019s earlobe. My absorption was profound. Sometimes I broke a sweat.<\/p>\n Exciting, it was, then, to find a 1,500 piece puzzle of The Annunciation<\/em> that would, if I chose to glue and frame it, go so well in my living room. Gabriel\u2019s creamy wings and royal blue robe were the perfect complement to my area rug, and Mary\u2019s dark blond hair contrasted nicely with my curtains. Best, the pillars framing the scene were a dead-on match for the shade of my living room walls. This was impressive, as the color morphed noticeably with the light. It looked sandy when I awoke, developed green tones in the afternoon, and deepened to an earthy taupe as night fell. Benjamin Moore had surpassed himself.<\/p>\n I did have reservations about hanging the Virgin Mary on my wall, though. Under her gaze, I feared I\u2019d hesitate to walk around nude, fantasize about a hot shag on my sofa, or use the word \u201cfuck\u201d every forty-five seconds. Friends would start giving me rosary beads for my birthday and saying grace when we went out to eat. My father would invite me to Sunday mass every week.<\/p>\n I wasn\u2019t sure I could take it.<\/p>\n These qualms failed to ease my disappointment when, after weeks of labor, I discovered piece number 1,500 of my Virgin Mary puzzle to be missing. A cat owner, I\u2019d known the risks. No matter how rigorous and complex my systems, Kylie occasionally relocated a puzzle piece from my kitchen table to behind the refrigerator, or in an old shoe at the back of my closet. There it would remain, undiscovered until there was a change in either the season or in fashion.<\/p>\n This time she\u2019d left me with a 1,499 piece image of The Virgin Mary with an indelicately situated peephole in the bodice of her dress. It was strikingly incompatible with the painting\u2019s overall theme. I had another issue on my hands.<\/p>\n I did some research. Puzzle companies, I discovered, often kept spare puzzle pieces for instances just like this. Buoyed, I called Jigsaw Jungle. A customer service representative broke the news: The Annunciation<\/em> was manufactured in Italy, and was no longer in print. Outstandingly sympathetic, after contacting the warehouse, the woman hung up with me and placed a direct call to Italy. This was a conversation I\u2019d have liked to hear. \u201cHello? This is Margie. Yes, from the United States division. We have a situation down here in Montclair . . .\u201d<\/p>\n Alas, the Italy branch could be of no service. My decision about framing the Virgin Mary was made for me. I was spared Mary\u2019s judgments, and she was spared being mounted next to photos of my mother\u2019s two terriers.<\/p>\n
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<\/a>A week later, I filled my sister in on my Virgin Mary calamity.<\/p>\n