"Very true," she said. "Georgia O'Keeffe said that to see a flower takes time, just as making friends takes time. She also said..."
"Yes, yes, yes," I said, "wonderful woman, and I'll bet you hold me spellbound telling me about all that she said, but later, please, when I have more time to pay close attention to every word."
I risked losing her sympathy saying it but I had no other choice. As I'm sure you know, Ms Wonder's fine art photography is inspired by the work of Ms. O'K and she--Poopsie I mean, not O'Keefe--can go on for days about her.
"But are they worth risking eternal torment?" I said. "That is the question I ask myself."
"Pardon?" she said.
"Well, you know what I mean," I said. "That referral business."
"No," she said, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Ms Wonder," I said. "You simply must start paying closer attention. Your life is slipping right by you. You remember the referral arrangement with Emerald City. Mention someone's name and they get $700.00 and then Mom gets flowers every month for the entire year."
"I follow you so far," she said.
"Well, no one really referred us, did they? We just said someone did so we could split the 700 green ones and get the flowers. That qualifies, unless I've forgotten the rules, as a blatant lie. Pardon me if that seems harsh but the truth will out, even if it doesn't set you free. Running afoul of one or more of the rules carved in stone, if they were carved, puts one in danger of eternal torment."
"Ah, I see now," she said. "You're wondering if $350.00 is worth eternal torment."
"I am not," I said somewhat indignantly. "You must take immediacy into account when considering eternal torment. The money comes now but no one knows when Judgement Day comes. No, it's not the money. What I'm wondering is whether fresh flowers for Mom is worth eternal torment."
"Of course," she said, "I understand now. That is a complex issue."
"I'm going to ask them what kind of flowers. Carnations, definitely not. Roses, certainly. Something in between, I'll have to think about it."
"Good plan," she said.
"Thank you, Ms Wonder."
"It's true what everyone says, that even though you have the mental prowess of a peahen, you do know how to get yours," she said.
As it happens, I've never met a peahen and so couldn't assess the quality of the compliment, but when in doubt, assume the best is my motto.
"Thank you," I said.
"Not at all," she said.
"But are they worth risking eternal torment?" I said. "That is the question I ask myself."
"Pardon?" she said.
"Well, you know what I mean," I said. "That referral business."
"No," she said, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Ms Wonder," I said. "You simply must start paying closer attention. Your life is slipping right by you. You remember the referral arrangement with Emerald City. Mention someone's name and they get $700.00 and then Mom gets flowers every month for the entire year."
"I follow you so far," she said.
"Well, no one really referred us, did they? We just said someone did so we could split the 700 green ones and get the flowers. That qualifies, unless I've forgotten the rules, as a blatant lie. Pardon me if that seems harsh but the truth will out, even if it doesn't set you free. Running afoul of one or more of the rules carved in stone, if they were carved, puts one in danger of eternal torment."
"Ah, I see now," she said. "You're wondering if $350.00 is worth eternal torment."
"I am not," I said somewhat indignantly. "You must take immediacy into account when considering eternal torment. The money comes now but no one knows when Judgement Day comes. No, it's not the money. What I'm wondering is whether fresh flowers for Mom is worth eternal torment."
"Of course," she said, "I understand now. That is a complex issue."
"I'm going to ask them what kind of flowers. Carnations, definitely not. Roses, certainly. Something in between, I'll have to think about it."
"Good plan," she said.
"Thank you, Ms Wonder."
"It's true what everyone says, that even though you have the mental prowess of a peahen, you do know how to get yours," she said.
As it happens, I've never met a peahen and so couldn't assess the quality of the compliment, but when in doubt, assume the best is my motto.
"Thank you," I said.
"Not at all," she said.