By W.R. Jones
I could not decide if I wanted to draw hands or birds so like any normal schizophrenic, I did both rather half-assedly.
Looking at this image triggers appreciation of that wise old saying, “A bird and a hand are better than a bush.” I can’t quite figure this saying out, can you? This particular piece might have been better developed if Mango had not decided it was too cold outside and he would be more comfortable relieving himself on my lap. Or maybe he was just marking; his way of saying, “hold this spot ’til I get back from my kibble.”
Don’t continue with this paragraph (but, by God, don’t skip the next) if you are easily creeped out. A few weeks ago I, my wife, and my daughter were having Thai food at a local restaurant where, at the end of the meal, we were given fortune cookies. I thought this was a Chinese thing but I guess passing out cheap cookies stuffed with dorky sayings and lotto numbers has spread. We each picked up a cookie. I was about to open mine when a searing premonition, starting from my left instep, ripped through my body. I grabbed my daughter’s hand and screamed NO! That cookie is not meant for you, this cookie is yours, and we exchanged those little cellophane wrapped rocks. She open hers and read, “El hombre puede — sorry, that was the Spanish side — Man can cure disease but not fate.” Mine read, “You are shit out of luck, as usual. Love, Confucius.” Not so chilling you think – my daughter is in medical school, and me, well you know about my luck.
I’m leaving tomorrow for a cruise through the Panama Canal. I’m telling you this for two reasons; 1. I want you to eat your heart out with mind destroying envy. I don’t know why this adds to the pleasure of my vacation, it just does. 2. I don’t want to come home and find my door blocked with Christmas gifts stacked so high it takes me three days to sift through them. It could be rainy and cold. I recommend assigning dates to ship my stuff so that it arrives in a staggered fashion.
On Painting 
1. My dog would never have done what Mango did! (Of course I can’t get her in my lap.) But still!
2. I am out of my mind with envy about your cruise. Are you happy?
3. Don’t worry, I will not be sending you a Christmas gift.
Mango is like a young prince – he expects someone to wipe his butt for him.
Did someone drive you out of your mind, or was that just a short putt? But, yes, that does add to my enjoyment – if you saw my grin now, you might think it a smirk and slap it off my face.
Hold er right there, Newt. I didn’t say don’t send a gift, I said send it in an organized manner.
But I completely understand the pressures of Christmas shopping. Why don’t you just email me some cash. You can add a little red Santa to the mail to make it more festive. I don’t want to mention the amount out loud here for fear of triggering even more envy in my readers.
Lordy, Carol, you’ve got to get a better Vivitar, as Lisa calls it.
How can you cruise through the Panama Canal? Doesn’t it take HOURS? I hope you see a whale.
I’m hoping it takes weeks. I’m likely to see a lot of whales sitting at the tables around me, and looking in the full length mirror to see if I have my socks on.
“In a staggered fashion” is how I imagine you returning, oh reckless mariner. I imagine you’ll find this comment eventually, after wading through your piled-up mail, which I hope will consist of yuletide goodies, but I fear will be comprised mainly of Wal-Mart flyers and Seventh Day adventist begging letters.
Gee kevmoore you sound like an American, or do they have Wal-Marts, Adventists, and raging capitalism over there now too?