Above: Quick sketch of an actor on a British TV show, and the wonderful line of dialog he had. Brush pen, watercolor brush pen, and Montana Marker on Japanese Lined Notebook.
While sitting at my computer making preliminary fabric selections for our new futon sofa (it’s a long story, but basically I’m short and futon sofas are short [near to the ground] and it made sense to us after one sofa debacle that left me with a torn rotator cuff), Dick groaned and turned me away from the computer screen.
I leaned closer to see what I was missing.
D [pointing resignedly to the screen, as if the battle were already lost]: They have “sparkly” fabrics.
It is well known that I, like my friends the crows and magpies, am attracted to what we call “bright sparklies.” (We call them this because of Jeremy in “The Secret of NIMH.”)
R [dismissively, without a second thought]: They wouldn’t wear well.
Dick is relieved and we keep scrolling through fabric swatches.
R: I know I’m susceptible to every sparkly thing, and things dangling on strings for that matter [we both laugh], but haven’t you ever thought how odd it is that at the same time bright sparklies have such a tractor beam pull on me I am totally skeptical of anyone offering to sell me “magical beans”? And of all the kids I have ever known, either as a kid, or now as an adult, I seem to be the only one, who even at 2 years of age, was totally immune to any Pied Piper.
D: Sometimes conversations with you are just a stream of consciousness.