Careful With That Match Harold

 

The Introductory Conversation Without Proper Introduction

    He walked into the room sporting the same tragic mustache that Paul Simon grew out in the early 1970's, and definitely had lifts in his shoes as the elf was now at least two inches taller. She wondered if it hurt his feet to wear them, and if he would be any taller than her if he wasn't wearing them.

   Without hesitation he took one of the long stemmed flutes filled with Louis Roederer Cristal that a server was proffering guests and stopped to take a long sip.

   Then he scanned the room looking for friends or foes or maybe someone new who would eventually become one or the other. His eyes fell on her immediately, primarily because she was one of the only women in the room shorter than him, and he strolled over to her with deceptive confidence.

   "Hello," he said to her, directly but not aggressively, "I noticed you admiring the Demuth - are you a fan?"

   "Hmmm," she breathed as she turned to look at him. She looked him over quickly before continuing, "Somewhat. I like his earlier works, the monochromatic watercolors. You?"

   "I prefer the larger paintings he created in the 1920's, when he embraced oils and was part of the Precisionist movement. The rectilinear sleekness of them and the flat colors are easy on the eye and don't challenge my wee brain to try to figure out meanings or emotions."

   She couldn't figure out the accent - she thought it was either Scottish or Irish, but it had been washed and rinsed for several cycles, so whatever country he had left to come to the states wasn't clearly distinguishable.

   "My name is Francis, Francis Nesbitt," she said while extending her ring-festooned right hand. "And you would be...?"

    "Oh, forgive my cheek," he stuttered out while countering her hand extension with his own. Her hand was warm and soft yet her grip was firm, almost as if she was closing a deal on a prized piece of real estate.

    "Cheek." Francis mulled to herself. "Who still says cheek when apologizing? Has to be an Irishman."

   "Neal, Neal Heaney." Her eyes lit up briefly when he spoke his name - she loved it when she could figure out the origin of a faint accent.

   "Ah, an Irishman who knows his American artists of the first part of the last century. Are you an artist yourself Mr Heaney?'

   "No, I dodged that curse, and please, call me Neal, Francis."

   She was slightly taken aback by his immediate use of her Christian name as it implied an intimacy of sorts, an intimacy she was more caught off guard by, but not offended by.

   "You consider being blessed with the artistic touch a curse...Neal?" He smiled slightly when she paused before saying his name. He wondered if she was married or engaged or casually seeing someone - the multiple rings on everyone of her fingers gave no hints as to her relationship status.

   "Yes I do, most decidedly. Every artist I've ever met and grown close to has eventually revealed themselves to be cursed in someway or another. Uhm, you're not about to tell me you're an artist are you?"

   Francis laughed quietly as she mulled her answer. "I am indeed an artist Neal, and you are right, I am cursed. To save us both time the nature of my curse is I cannot resist cynical Irishmen with old timey charm and a disregard for etiquette."   

   

Let Your Huge Inflatable Animal Light Shine

 

   It's your yard, and if the HOA allows them during all the standard holidays, they gotta allow them for whatever holiday it is you're celebrating.

The Ever So Sensible Plan For Happiness & Productivity

He had the positive self-talk down

Could quote Peale as if it was written on the back of his hand

He created an environment that stimulated creativity

That would have had Edison crying in his sleep

Wrote down his goals and reviewed them ten times a day

Keep them in focus, sharp as a Samurai's blade

Made damn sure everything he did was meaningful

And that whatever he did gave him an opportunity to shine

First thing everyday he wrote down a plan of action

That would make him joyful, productive and fruitful

Though not necessarily in the biblical way

Just wanted to stay motivated

Just wanted to stay real

Just wanted to stay in the game

Just wanted to be real

Heavy Wet Tree Branch Snapping Snow

    May snowstorms are not unusual in the Rocky Mountains, but heavy, wet snow like we received last night/this morning is. The media reported the snowstorm as the most snow for a day in May since the May of 2003.

   Sure took a toll on the trees in and around my neighborhood.

 

Material Is Money

 

Tripping Through The Thistle Fields Of Life

 

Gotta admire a craftsperson who takes pride in their work and does the best job possible, even if the end results are very rarely ever to be seen.