A Hopeful Thought

It’s Thanksgiving Day. I’m driving my family from Denver, Colorado westbound on I-70 into the mountains. The road tilts upward, meandering its way along a manmade trail, twisting deeper and deeper into the pristine splendor of the high country.

Soon the snow capped peaks of the Rocky Mountains surround me, my breath slows, my shoulders drop, I settle comfortably into the drivers seat, a warm inner-calm envelopes me, my thoughts are clear. I am happy, content and confident.

I love the mountains because I experience this mild from of euphoria every time I visit them.

They are strong, dependable and true. I trust in the knowledge that they will always be there for me. I feel safe in their midst’s.

I glance at my family as I continue my journey and hope they think of me as their Mountain.

The Art of Speeding

Unsure of its contents I gingerly open the official looking letter. A picture of my own face confronts me. Its bewildered expression remarkably similar to my current one.

The finest defense lawyer in the world would be hard pressed to persuade a jury that it was not me behind the wheel driving at 31 mph through a school zone. The crappy photo quality was, sadly, not crappy enough to conceal the identity of the accused. I feel angry, cheated and $80 poorer.

I hate photo speeding tickets.

They represent the lowest form of art, consistently exhibiting poor composition and the subject is invariably badly lit. The shot is weak, lifeless, cold, impersonal and utterly devoid of any creativity. It’s as if the photographer just threw up his hands in the air and quit mid-shutter. Even my children’s school photos that arrive home annually amid harsh, critical review show an modicum of effort to capture the subject in a favorable light.

The work before was infuriating with its startling lack of care. I felt the photographer harbored a smug feeling because he has the law on his side. He thinks I have no choice but to purchase his shoddy artwork.

Well he is wrong.
I do have a choice and my choice today is to not purchase. I will stick to my principals and make a stand for the sake of promoting good art. Sometimes it just feels good to do the right thing.

But then on closer inspection of the piece I noticed its value was forecast to appreciate by 100% in the next thirty days. I could buy it today for only $80 but if I waited a month it would cost me $160.

One hundred percent growth in only thirty days is truly remarkable. Opportunities like this only come along once in a lifetime. Applying compound interest over the next twelve months to my $80 investment would be worth a staggering $163,840.00!

I felt myself being torn. On one hand, stick to my principals. On the other hand, throw my principals out of the window, buy the crap art and cave in to the potential earnings.

So, I write the check and stuff it into the envelope. I feel giddy from my new found investment savvy. I wonder which frame will best compliment my latest art acquisition?

Football Dreams

I had a dream last night that the YMCA was allowed to field a college football team.

Every player was the best looking player in that position in the entire league - except for the field goal kicker. Due to his lackluster looks he was forced to play the whole game without his helmet. The coach said it was for the purpose of recruiting.

The next Saturday I was relieved of my kicking duties by Fabio.

When in Rome

The real sight to see was on the way to sight-seeing.

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Private Parts

Alastair, Matthew's young son, tried desperately to express himself in a moment of excruciating pain.

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A Right Honorable Dip

Sometimes it is not obvious who your real friends are...when you are unexpectedly naked.

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Oh Come All Ye Singers

Matthew's memory of a very unique holiday tradition in his boyhood home of Itchenor.

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Oh Come All Ye Singers (To listen, click here.)