Timothy J. Pruitt's Blog, page 174

Acrylic Winter Blue And Red

This is an acrylic I did yesterday Alla Prima, or at one time. It’s called Winter In Blue And Red, and features Prussian Blue, Cerulean Blue, Titanium White, Lemon Yellow, and Vermillion. The tree and rock were mixed with blue, vermillion, and lemon yellow.

I would like to say, this is a painting dedicated to my nephew Preston Linkous. Like me, he is a huge Bob Ross fan. Whether you are or not, I love him, because he made art something that was accessible, and not a high dollar item. Speaking of that, it’s fitting how this painting came to be.

As an early Christmas present, my wife Ashley found a large tube of Prussian Blue, one of my favorite blues, at Ross for 2.99. If you have a Ross in your area, in addition to clothes and housewares, you can find great art supplies there. This tube she picked up for 2.99 would have easily been 7.99 or more elsewhere.

While writing and painting are very important to me, taking care of my family is more so. Because of this, spending a lot on art supplies is not something that I feel comfortable doing. However, being able to purchase items occasionally that are not expensive allows me to still enjoy my hobby.

If you are on a budget, you can purchase either with a Hobby Lobby 40% discount coupon, which they offer on one item weekly, or at Ross. These two locations have been very good for me, and for our family with other purchases. Whether you’re a professional, hobbyist, or just have a passing interest, a penny saved is a penny earned.

The Christmas Waffle – A Story Of Christmas

Fletcher Maine, apparently it’s the breakfast pastry capital of the world during the holidays. I found out, very soon after arriving that, one of the primary events of December there, was The Christmas Waffle. They’re not food color green or red dye number 9.

They’re something much more special. I didn’t see it at first, and it took awhile. Yet I did eventually see it, and I discovered a few things I desperately needed in the process. I admit I wasn’t feeling too great when I rolled into town.

My name is Kevin Paine, and I’m a food blogger. I was traveling along the coast, writing about holiday foods. Fletcher Maine wasn’t on my list. I had never heard of it, it was just an attempt at fixing a problem.

The last place I had stopped was a mistake. I had heard a lot about Cannon Diner’s Clam Soufflé, but I hadn’t heard enough. For example, that it tasted like tar, sand, and any other inedible thing you could think of. The only person fond of Canon’s soufflé was Cannon, who had hyped it artificially online.

My stomach was in no mood to continue on to the next location. I stopped at the first exit that advertised a bed and breakfast, The Creek Valley Inn. I parked the car, grabbed one of my bags, and headed inside. I hadn’t expected much, but was pleasantly surprised.

“Welcome to The Creek Valley Inn, my name is Daphne Wilkins. What type of room would you like?” She seemed like a nice lady in her sixties. Silver hair, blue eyes, and a kind smile. Nice, but ordinary, that’s not a slam, I was glad to see ordinary, it had been awhile.

“Yes ma’am, I’m needing a room with a queen or king if available. I’m afraid I don’t have reservations. I wasn’t intending to stop here, but I’m not feeling well, and was hoping for anything that’s available. My name is Kevin Paine.”

She went beyond my assessment, she couldn’t have been more welcoming. Ms Wilkins charged me very little, ushered me into a wonderful room with a king size bed, recliner, desk, and nice chair. In two minutes she had gotten my keys, and sent her nephew Stan out to get my other luggage.

He brought my bags, and keys while she stepped out. Before I knew, she was back with something else. “I’m not a big chicken soup fan Kevin, but I have found peppermint tea to help an upset stomach. I’ll set it here, and we’ll get out so you can rest. If you feel up for breakfast tomorrow, we serve from 7 to 9, good night.”

I was so tired, I didn’t plan on drinking the tea. I grabbed a shower to try and feel well enough to sleep. By the time I had my pajamas on, I was feeling a little better. The tea was still hot, and I ended up drinking not just the cup, but the small teapot they had brought. I passed out watching an old Christmas movie on the local channel.

The next morning, I woke up feeling better, and was actually hungry. I joined everyone for breakfast, and it was wonderful. Ms Wilkins, her nephew Stan, Oscar their chef, and the other couple staying, the Huttons were pleasant company.

I relished talking to everyone, almost as much as I enjoyed the food. I was starting to be intrigued by this little town off an emergency exit. I was curious enough to go exploring what it had to offer.

No one knew me there, which was refreshing. I was thankful, tired of who I was following me everywhere I went. For the first time in a year, I could relax. It seemed to good to be true, and I was afraid it wouldn’t last.

By the afternoon, it was still holding, so I came back to the room for something that hadn’t seemed possible a day before, a nap. I had intended to sleep an hour, and woke up in time for dinner. I hurriedly straightened up, and joined everyone for dinner.

It was even more wonderful than breakfast.

It wasn’t that one dish stood out, everything was great. So was the company, including the new addition, the chef’s daughter Molly. She apparently had just had a not so great day at work, and was famished. Her Dad was trying to encourage her over the soup.

“You’re smarter than all of the bunch Molly. You ought to leave that startup and start your own business. You could be the next big name in technology if you set your mind to it.” She just laughed.

Apparently she saw me listening. “Dad thinks I’m a genius or something, parental love. I’m just a computer programmer for a small startup, brilliant guys, but hard to deal with. Sometimes geniuses can be challenging.”

I smiled back. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know. The smartest person I know fired me after the first day. I try to avoid brilliance if at all possible.” She gave me a funny look, but quickly smiled to cover. That’s when I started to feel queasy again, only this time it wasn’t the food.

I made an excuse, and skipped desert, heading back to my room. Why had I tried to be funny? I’m not funny as a rule, and trying always gets me into trouble. I was hoping I hadn’t said too much, but decided to keep a low profile for a day or two while I got my bearings.

I was reliving the last few months in my mind, starting to creep back into misery territory when there was a knock on the door. It was Molly. She just stood there, and looked at me for a couple of minutes. Then she said, her voice a little shaky, “Why are you here, and when are you leaving?”

I muttered I didn’t know when, and that I hadn’t planned on coming. “I’m leaving in a couple of days. I hadn’t planned on coming here. All I want is a couple of days of normal, then I’ll be out of everyone’s hair.”

Molly looked at me as if I had personally attacked her. I was tempted to point out that I had never seen her before the last few hours. Instead I did something I didn’t expect, I cried, and tried to shut the door before she saw the tears.

Her foot stopped me. “You don’t get to cry. Why are you crying? I’m the one… the one who read some story on the internet and assumed I knew everything. I’m sorry, I…” Then she started crying, we were both a mess.

She choked out, “Coffee, Zeke’s Pizza, let’s go.” I started not to follow. When she said, “Now!”, I followed.

We both stopped crying in the car. When we sat down for coffee and pizza she started talking. “I don’t know what I want. I want to be a success, but I don’t want to swim the English Channel or fly to Mars. I don’t know what that means any more, you know? What do you want?”

“I, I don’t I understand all of that, but I do know what not knowing feels like. I wanted to change my town. I trusted the wrong person, and he raked me over the coals to get what he wanted.”

She looked at me. “So what really happened? Tell me your story.”

“I’m a food blogger who wanted to become a chef. I started this online business to put myself through culinary school. I had been a finance guy, and I hated it. An old co-worker decided my hard work was the perfect way to make himself rich, only he didn’t tell me that part.”

“Eric told me that we would put on this culinary conference for the region, get backers, etc. He said it would build the community, help establish my reputation locally for backers to fund a restaurant venture, and we’d be set. Then on the first day, he ran off with the money.”

“The police investigated and cleared me, but public opinion doesn’t believe me. I’m the guy who plummeted the town into debt, and left them with nothing. So now I keep moving, when people find out, no one wants me in their town.”

“Wow! When did you figure it out? What did you say?”

“Thankfully I happened to be with the only witness that salvaged me from going to prison. I was cooking dinner for the Mayor and his family, as a preview of some food for the event, when my partner flew out.”

“I didn’t have any idea, I actually believed him. I feel like an idiot.”

She gave me a kind look. “People can be very convincing. That’s the part I haven’t told my Dad. My boss is slick, when I first started he talked me into signing an exclusive contract. It’s not that I want to stay, but that I can’t go anywhere else and do the same thing for a year.”

“Could you do something else? I mean an exclusive contract usually is for a time period, it can’t be indefinite. Could you stomach doing something you don’t like for a year, to get to do what you want the rest of your life?”

It had been an honest question, but I didn’t expect it to have the impact it had. She suddenly stopped, as if she were stunned. I thought I had offended her, then she broke into a big smile. She wasn’t looking at me, she was staring in front of her, as if guiding a hamster through a maze.

It only lasted for a couple of minutes, then she looked at me. “I know what to do. It’s so simple. Get your coat, your coming with me.”

I grabbed my coat, we paid our bill, and I followed her out. Funny, I didn’t ask where we were going. I didn’t ask what she was getting ready to do. Somehow I just knew it was what we were supposed to do, so I followed, also I didn’t know what else to do.

Molly headed straight for the local library. She had me set. Down at the computer and pull up all of the articles on the fiasco I had been through. “I know it’s going to be painful, but if you’ll let me I think I can help both of us.” I nodded, and kept researching.

About an hour later she said we had enough, and that we were going to meet her Dad. Soon we were all sitting at the Inn, Molly, her Dad Oscar, Daphne Wilkins, Stan, and even the Hutton’s. “First things first, Dad, I need your help, so does Kevin, and here is why.”

She told her story first, and then motioned for me to go through mine. I was embarrassed, but somehow I trusted Molly. I went through it all, bracing myself for no one to believe me again. That didn’t happen.

If they believed Molly, they believed me. She took over after each of them gave me a smile of reassurance. “Okay, here is why I had him go through all of that. I had a problem, and I couldn’t see a way out, even though it was right in front of me. He helped me find an answer by asking a question.”

“I think I can help him the same way. I also think we can help with a bigger problem with the town, but I need everyone’s help. I’m talking about the Grant Factory, and Carl Wigg.”

It was at this point I was totally confused, and the others looked like they’d joined me. Stan spoke first. “Molly, I don’t know that you can do anything about Carl. Can’t we just let that alone?”

Before Molly could speak, his Aunt did. “Stan, your Uncle Jeff wanted to fix this. He almost lost the inn trying. I owe it to him to try myself. You don’t have to help, but your Uncle would be so proud of you if you did.”

Stan smiled. “The one two punch, your smile and Uncle Jeff, you know I can’t say no to that. Let’s take the battle to him. You better fill Kevin in first though, he’s lost again.”

The next few words, I thought I had misheard at the time. Ollie looked at me and said, “It’s about the Christmas Waffle. You didn’t mishear me, I said the Christmas Waffle. It’s a Fletcher thing.”

Molly stepped in. “Every year in December we have the Waffle Festival. It’s a few days of fun, games, community, and the Waffle Battle. No we don’t throw waffles at each other. It’s about the best Waffle related dish, the winner gets a trophy, bragging rights, and a stay at the inn. The Hutton’s won it last year.”

Henry Hutton beamed. “Waffle Beef Wellington. Ground waffles to make a crust, deep fried, cut thin, fancy name, maple sauce. I told Nan we couldn’t lose. We decided to pick this week to celebrate before the festival got under way. As the winner of last year, I get to make a speech and give out the trophy.”

I looked at Molly, expecting to hear something about a financial crisis over the town or something. “Every season we hold it at the old Grant Factory, it’s been closed for twenty years. We’ve got a one hundred year lease so he can’t throw us out, that’s not the problem.”

I thought Daphne was interrupting, until I realized, this next part was her story. “Stan’s brother is Carl. There’s no villain in this story, well not exactly, unless the victim and the villain are the same person. This is about trying to help Carl.”

“Everybody is going to be fine, the town’s not in trouble. You and Molly will get through all of this. Stan, if Carl folds, will get everything, but he doesn’t care about the money. He’s fed up with his twin brother beating himself up, and doesn’t want to try. If somebody doesn’t help Carl though, he’s gone.”

I listened intently from that moment on. Molly, and everyone came up with this elaborate scheme to build the guy up. They told me how he had failed at every business he had tried. Struggled with some things he shouldn’t be messing with, and was basically a step away from explosion. I knew what I would do.

After everyone went home, I found Daphne, and set her down. I told her what I had in mind. She listened quietly, and though she disagreed, was desperate.

“You know that Molly will think you are crazy, and you may lose her. Don’t say you don’t have her, you both have each other, neither of you have admitted it yet. There’s no guarantee this will work, and it could push him over the edge.”

“I don’t think so. I think, I think I know what’s at the core of his problem. I think that, well, I think I can help him. If not, we will try the big grab you all have planned. Please let me try?”

She agreed, on one condition. “Before we do this, you have to tell Molly first. You’re not going to get in your car and drive off to misery and leave me to pick up the pieces. That girl needs to be trusted, and needs to be able to trust again.”

Reluctantly I agreed, and Daphne said we’d talk at breakfast. So I went to bed, not that I could sleep. Tossing and turning, second guessing myself until the alarm went off.

We all had a big breakfast, waffles. I didn’t expect to eat, but the food was so good. Plus, I think I told myself the more I ate, the longer I had until time to talk, but eventually we finished breakfast.

Daphne spoke first. “Molly, Kevin has convinced me that the plan we made for Carl last night won’t work. He feels it won’t work because, well, we made a plan for Carl. He thinks, he thinks that someone has to force Carl to make a plan for himself. Kevin thinks he can cause him to do that.”

Stan was angry. “Don’t you think I’ve tried that? Don’t you think everyone hear has tried that? What makes you think that you, a stranger who’s never met him, can fix him when we couldn’t?”

This was the part I was dreading. “Because none of us, including me can fix him. He can’t fix himself, I’m sure he’s tried. He needs help, and he needs to admit to himself that he needs help. I know, because I went through it already. I was sixteen …”

I told my story about the battles I faced, the addictions and struggles, and how at twenty things changed. I told them how it changed, and why. When I was done, Molly hugged me. Stan volunteered to drive me. Everyone wanted to go, but I said no.

We didn’t talk much the first mile or two. Then Stan’s love for his brother overcame his anger. “He’s not a bad guy. When Uncle Jeff got sick, that started shaking him. Delores, his girlfriend, she dumped him. That started everything, and it just continues to get worse. I’m scared, I don’t mind telling you.”

We drove up to the house, and Stan went in alone at first. I couldn’t make out the shouting, but before long, he came to the door and motioned for me to come in. Carl looked like his identical twin, except somehow appeared much older, and even thinner than skinny Stan.

“Another fixer. What makes you think you can fix me? Maybe I like the way I am, did you ever think of that?”

I took a picture out of my wallet and held it up to him. “I did, but I rejected it, the clincher was what you just said, or didn’t say. In all of that, you never disagreed with the fact that you are broken. We all are in some way, and you my friend, are less broken than I was.”

Stan left like I had asked in the van. Carl and I sat there for hours. He told me his story, it was very private, and painful. Including how his Uncle almost lost the Inn paying for his rehab when his parents refused to kick in for a third time. I told him mine, also very private, also very painful. Finally, he asked me what he should do.

“First, let me tell you what changed for me. You see, it’s funny all this talk about waffles. I had ‘waffled’ back and forth trying to change, and failing. It took me two years to actually make everything stick, and at twenty it did.”

He looked at me. “What stuck? How did you fix what was broken? How do you repair lives that aren’t there. Mistakes that you can’t undue. If a time machine was a thing maybe, but how do you fix yesterday?”

I said a prayer before I spoke. “I was the one that was stuck. Desperation, that was what got my attention. I realized in a very real way that, if I didn’t fix today, and let go of yesterday, there would be no tomorrow. I was broken, and I couldn’t fix myself.”

“There are no time machines, but that’s by design, yet there is a way to get better. You assumed that I fixed me, or friends and family did, the truth is that wasn’t what happened. I found myself on Christmas night behind a wheel I shouldn’t be behind.”

“I hit a car that I thought I wasn’t supposed to hit. Truth be told, that wreck is what started the change. The guy I hit was bleeding, his leg had been smashed up. I was scared but I wanted to call the police. He said no, and insisted I take him to the hospital instead.”

“Scared out of my mind I agreed. I was beginning to think he was running from the law until the nurse recognized him. He was a local Pastor, Jeff Combs. I stayed with him until they bandaged his leg, and told him to go home. I took him home, on the way we talked.”

“Like you are now, I was angry. Everything he said I verbally rejected, except that I did listen. He told me about his own battles, and how his faith helped to overcome them. Pastor Combs didn’t quote a lot of Scripture, or try and blow my mind with big terms, instead he said what I’m about to say to you.”

“This is what he said that changed my life. ‘You can sit there until you destroy yourself. Until everyone hates you as much as you despise yourself. Or you can ask yourself this, why did Christ care enough to be born?”

“If what He said is true, then why did He waste His time loving you and I? The Bible admits none of us are worth it. That we’re all flawed failures since Genesis, so why did He try? Because He knew that He had The Power to do what neither you nor I can do, and that’s fix what is broken inside us.”

“I decided that if God did what my Mother had sang about, what my Father had believed, and I knew them, then I had to make a choice. I could either step out of this life to meet Him like I was, or I could ask for His help now. I chose to ask for help while it was still available.”

I left the picture of what I had looked like at my worst laying on the seat, and started to walk away. Carl stopped me, and we prayed. Then we called Stan, and went to the hospital. He had a long journey ahead, but I knew he would make it this time.

Molly met me at the hospital. Daphne started to thank me and I stopped her. “I didn’t do anything but tell him what someone had shared with me. He’s probably heard it all before, but he never heard it from someone who had been more messed up than he was.”

I was uncomfortable with all the attention, and made an excuse to get coffee. Molly came with me. When we sat down, she asked me how I did it. “I don’t mean what happened today. I mean, you got your life back at twenty, then you go through this big crisis in your life. How did you keep from going back, or falling apart?”

“That’s easy. I’m not the same guy I was. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t tempted. We’re all flesh, but being a Christian truly means two things. One, He changes you, two He doesn’t leave you. When I get weak, I ask for His help. I needed a lot of it lately, and He’s never failed me.”

We had our first date that night, hospital food, then went to see Carl for a few minutes. Over the next year, I stayed for the festival, and ended up working for the Inn in marketing. Stan and I launched a full restaurant at the Inn. Molly couldn’t do start up work, but she could manage a restaurant.

Carl got better, and eventually got back together with Doris. He’s stable, he and Stan converted the factory into a new business they had always talked about. Daphne and Ollie ended up getting married, and so did Molly and I.

There’s a Christmas song about wassling, and an old joke about it being called waffling, and I thought of it through this whole thing. In this life, you do a lot of waffling, or going back and forth, until you realize that you don’t have too.

The promise of The Baby in the manger isn’t about a day’s celebration, but a changed life for us all. A lot of people start out in January to change their lives, others wait til it’s too late. I chose to start in December. When I felt like giving up, and everyone has moments like that, I remembered that He never did.

From Bethlehem to Calvary, Christ continued out of love for a people who had no right to ask, so He acted first, without us asking. Now that He has given us a way to ask for help and to receive a new life, what right do I have to turn it down?

Sketch Nicholas Toy Soldier

This is a sketch of what is now my son’s Toy Soldier. I love that my son loves his Daddy’s things enough for them to become his. I pray the same can be said of the important things as he grows.

Sketch Santa Seated

Christmas Coffee Cup – A Christmas Story For 2020

We hope you enjoy #PruittWrites first Christmas story of the year. A unique option for 2020.

You wouldn’t think an old blue and black coffee cup would be the best Christmas gift I had ever gotten, but it was this year. That Prussian blue mug with black specks taught me a lot about happiness and stubbornness. Thanks to a very interesting, yet somewhat unorthodox Claus, named J.H. Mays.

It sat on his dressing room table for twenty years or more I guess. John Harry Mays is an actor. While he is only fifty, he seemed to have walked out of fifties television. I could just as easily imagine him throwing a cream pie as I could doing the internet commercials he was now famous for.

He is heavy, though not overly so. He looks bigger than he is I think, or he else he is surprisingly agile for his big boned frame as he puts it. Even when he traded his tie and dress shirt for a Hawaiian shirt, of which he had a hundred or more, I seldom see him without a coat or sweater.

J.H. has hair that was a mixture of black and silver that wasn’t exactly either color, depending on how the light hit the shiny slick and wavy hair style. His eating habits were amazing. If someone else paid, he barely ate two pieces of toast, but if J.H. bought the dinner, he feasted.

“It comes from being a young hungry actor kid. If you were invited to a place where you wanted to make an impression, you ate like a bird. If it was a buffet, you got an extra napkin, loaded, topped, and devoured, then repeat. When you got your own money, you ate until you couldn’t eat. You never knew when you couldn’t eat again.”

J.H. was only supposed to stay over the weekend, until we could shoot photos for his upcoming ad campaign. Then covid quarantine hit, and he had nowhere to go. His hotel room slash apartment was shut down. Years of resisting buying a house because of fear of dipping into his savings had been a mistake.

I heard him on the phone the second day. He floated the idea of moving into the storage unit if the manager would let him use the office bathroom. When the guy said no I stopped him before he bought the place. J.H. idea of what he should and should not buy had three rules.

“Is it a good investment? Will it turn a profit, either through reputation or money? Can I sell it to the little skinny out of work actor in my head?”

“You can stay here as long as you need to J.H. Look I’m a bachelor, and it looks now like I’ll be one for a long time. It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to while we’re seeing nobody else.”

He looked at me like I was a hurt animal and agreed. Probably because the woman I was going to marry decided to elope, and forgot to tell me. Sally married a car salesman, the one who sold her birthday present, a new Jeep. To be fair, the note said they’d make the rest of the payments on the vehicle.

I had been head over heels about the girl, and I don’t think the feeling was the same. While this was obvious now, it wasn’t until I read the note. I was in no mood to even think about anybody else at that point.

I think that’s when I became J.H. Pet Project. He decided I was in no way going to be a curmudgeon, especially if he was stuck here for two weeks. That’s when we thought it was only going to be two weeks.

I became his guinea pig for his gourmet meals, and they were gourmet. He could cook amazing. A week in, he had his niece deliver more food. “Marlene, you haven’t left the house in years, and you had this food delivered. Take that mask off and stay for dinner.”

“This is Brian, he’s a hermit like you. Though he is new to the club. She’s my attorney. Handles all of my business, and anything that irritates me. Her address is my address, but her house is too small for me.”

With that, he went off to whisk some eggs into some soufflé he wanted me to try. “Sorry about Uncle John. He’s like a teddy bear in a monster truck. If he decides someone needs his attention, he goes full steam ahead.”

“I’m beginning to understand that. So your an attorney. How did you end up there?”

“Uncle John heard me say I wanted to be a writer. He said, ‘You need a career in the meantime kid. Otherwise people will call you a loafer, and they’ll never see anything else.’ So I became an attorney.”

“Were you okay with that?” She smiled at me with a funny look. Then burst out laughing.

“You really don’t know much about Uncle John yet do you? He didn’t force me to go. Instead, he introduced me to some friends who were lawyers. I fell in love with it. Once I did, he insisted on paying for college and law school.”

“My Mom is his little sister, and he sort of adopted her, Dad, and me. When I started at my first firm Mom mentioned that I liked the work but not the politics. He talked me into handling his business, then told me he needed someone full time.”

“That house he said I never leave, he built it, with an amazing home office. While he wouldn’t admit it, Uncle John built it for me. This way I had plenty to do to keep the lawyer in me happy, and give me time to write my mystery novels.”

“She’s good too Brian. Marlene won’t tell you, but she’s M. Calhoun-Tompkins, bestselling mystery writer of the year. I just gave her a little room to fly that’s all.” He yelled from the kitchen.

She blushed. “His hearing is excellent. Though his eye doctor says he still needs to wear his glasses! They’re not readers Uncle John.”

“Fit perfectly in my coat pocket until a script requires their attention. You two make yourself useful, go check on Barnaby. He’s probably hungry by now.”

She asked if I had a computer handy, and I showed her to my little office. “So who is Barnaby? I haven’t heard your Uncle mention him before.”

Marlene laughed again. “He’s Uncle John’s let polar bear. Barnaby stays hungry, but that’s not what he wanted me to check on. You’ll see.”

She made an Internet call to Dr. Henry Liepowirz, head of the local zoo. “Hello Henry, how’s Barnaby doing? Will he be ready for December?”

“Oh yes ma’am, your Uncle’s charity drive is going well. Between this event and the Seal-a-thon, we should have our new expansion paid for in no time.” After the call she looked at me again.

“I think there’s something you need to know about Uncle John. He’s more than he seems. When you meet him you think he’s this big showman, and to some extent he is. What he doesn’t advertise is the crusader side of him.”

“Does he help with a lot of charities? Is the Zoo his passion? I didn’t think he was necessarily an animal guy?”

She could tell I didn’t understand. “He likes animals. He loves Polar Bears, Penguins, Dogs, Cats, but those aren’t his passion. People are his passion. He met Dr. Henry’s daughter performing in a broadway production, she’s an actress. Wanda told him about her Dad struggling to keep the Zoo going.”

“Uncle John stepped in, and now they’ve expanded three times in four years, including the new Artic section, and Barnaby the Polar Bear. At the same time I was coordinating that, he helped build three high schools. The reason he doesn’t own a house of his own isn’t really because he likes living in a hotel.”

“He owned that hotel until he gave it to the lady who used to be the head housekeeper there. He spends his time and money off stage taking care of people. If he sees someone who needs help, he goes into action.”

She could tell I didn’t completely understand yet, but said something about ‘Well you will’, before changing the subject. Over the next few months, I would get it. When the quarantine extended, and the restaurants starting closing, J.H. began his ‘Save The Culinary Artist’s’ drive.

In addition to Marlene, he recruited me. I became his videographer for his one man shows. J.H. started posting videos on YouTube, everything from hilarious comedy routines to Shakespeare. With each one, in the first and last five minutes, he made a passionate plea for someone, or industry in need.”

It became my full time job, which was good, considering no one was hiring a photographer. After about a week, J.H. had insisted on paying me. I didn’t realize it for months until I looked at Marlene one day when she came over to help shoot one of her Uncle’s more elaborate performances. “I’m one of his projects aren’t’ I, that’s why he’s started paying me?”

She laughed. “Honey, you were his project when he picked you to shoot his pictures instead of some bigger name. You just didn’t know it yet. It’s called Maysteria, all of us projects who experience his generosity have nicknamed the adventure. Uncle John figures this way you can’t say no to his help if you don’t see it coming til it’s too late.”

Over the next few months, all of this continued building. By November, I was a full blown Maysteria fan, also I had started looking forward to the weekly visits of his niece Marlene. I wouldn’t admit it, but J.H. could tell I was disappointed if she had to cancel, or was called away to something. That’s when he went into phase two.

The first Friday in November, he decided we needed an adventure. He had a huge movie projector, popcorn machine, even an old fashioned candy cart sent to my house. He worked all afternoon to cook an amazing dinner. On the way back to get the bread, we heard a loud crash.

J.H. wasn’t so corny he would fake a fall or anything so common and anticipated. He was on the phone, loudly arguing, throwing rocks out my back kitchen window in the woods. There were several pots at his feet, apparently he had knocked off, he seemed truly upset.

“No Harold, it’s not your fault, but I am disappointed. That shipment was supposed to get to Miami in three days. The High School is counting on those instruments for the Winter concert. I’ve got to figure out a substitute. Doesn’t Steve Torney live in Miami? Let me call him, thanks Harold.”

He whirled around to look at us. “Look kids, you heard. The shipment of instruments won’t get there in time. I’ve got to put together a substitute. There’s a singer I know, Steve Torney, he’s pretty big, but he owes me. This is a show biz thing Marlene, I’m going to have to handle it directly.”

“Are you sure Uncle John? I can help setup the call. What if he’s not available?”

He held up a hand. “I’ll use the old fashioned way, I’ll call him. You stay I may need help later, but a strong arm may be required for this. I may have to remind him of a couple things. Dinner’s cooked, I don’t feel like eating. You two eat, tell me how the movie turns out?”

With that, he was gone to the guest room, and without even Marlene figuring it out until the movie started, we were on our first date. We talked all through dinner, and the movie. J.H. came down just as it was ending.

“Well, Steve Torney is going to host an internet event, conferencing in all the students. They’ll get to do some songs with him, and he will do some specials. He jumped at the chance. I’m hungry, how was the movie?”

The two of us murmured that we didn’t really follow the plot while he brewed coffee. “Today is a special day Marlene. I had something delivered. Guess what it is?”

She had no clue, until he pulled out an old coffee cup, the one I had mentioned earlier from a small box. Her eyes got very, very wide. He smiled and nodded. “Yep, I think I’m finally there honey.”

Marlene hugged her Uncle. “Her name is Alice. You won’t believe it, but she’s actually the Principal of the High School that I’m helping in Miami. In the midst of helping someone else, I found something I’ve been looking for at least thirty years.”

“He’s confused Uncle John. I think you better do a recap, go slow, he’s new to the Maysteria Fan Club.”

J.H. laughed. “I still don’t like that term. Fans are people who appreciate your work, but may not know you. All of you, and I mean all of you, are dear friends. I’m just an actor who remembers what hurt, hunger, and loneliness feel like, who wants to help somebody else.”

“Sit down Brian, you’re about to hear a story a little like your own. I was a young actor, met an actress, fell in love. She didn’t feel the casting was right, so she changed the lead. I think she’s been married about five times, and I gave up when she broke my heart.”

“I had just bought this coffee cup that day, and was planning on taking it to the apartment I had just rented. It was going to be our honeymoon place. She at least told me in person. I called, cancelled the apartment, and promised I’d never settle down. I’d be a bachelor the rest of my days.”

“That was stupid. I knew it the day I set it, but actors are dramatic. The problem is, I kept playing the role. I allowed a lot of possibilities to pass me by. This coffee cup sat in my dressing room as a reminder of two things.”

“The cynic said, not to settle down, it hurt too much. The hope in me said simply, you’ve drank plenty of bad coffee, but you never stop over one bad pot. I’ve decided, hope was right. I don’t know if this Principal and I will keep dating, but I know I’m ready to give it a try.”

In spite of a great first date, anger flooded through me. I didn’t say anything stupid, but I made some excuse and headed upstairs for the night. J.H. didn’t follow, but I found out later he covered with Marlene for me.

The next morning though, he made up for his discretion the night before. I don’t know where he got the tuba, but he got one. The door to my room burst open, and in walked J.H. In his pajamas, slippers, and suit coat, blaring a tuba. “Breakfast is in five minutes young man, the coffee is brewing. I ask that you join me post haste, or else I’ll be forced to practice the entire soundtrack to my first musical in this room, your choice.”

I sleepily nodded, mostly out of fear, and he left. Five minutes later, looking horrible, I sat down to breakfast. I was still too stunned to be angry, so I kept my mouth shut.

“Brian, you almost royally ruined any opportunity last night. Do you think you’re the only one that’s scared to talk to someone? Marlene is not a major fan of it either. One scare, and she’ll run for the hills. My own long term ignorance aside, she’s worth the fight my boy.”

“J.H. I appreciate your help, but …” He helped up a hand and stopped me. Then he picked up that coffee cup.

“Let me guess, I have no right to meddle in your life. I agree. I’m not doing it because I have a right too, I’m intruding admittedly, because you need me desperately. Give me five minutes, and if you don’t see merit in what I’m about to say, I’ll never speak of it again.”

I lapsed back into shock and nodded. If nothing else, curiosity had me now, to see what he would pull next. At least the tuba wasn’t in site.

He pointed to that coffee cup again. “The best cup of coffee of the day is your first one. You may be half asleep, you may feel horrible, but that first cup of coffee says you can get through the day. There’s only one cup of coffee that’s better than your first morning’s cup, and that’s Christmas Coffee.”

“Christmas Coffee is better because it doesn’t just say you can get through the day. It says this, this is why you get through all those days, for mornings like this one. Yes, the other girl hurt you, and no it’s not fair, but when you find the real thing, you realize all the other missteps were worth it all.”

We ate in silence after that. He wasn’t sure he was convincing, and I wasn’t at first either. Until the second cup of coffee. I started to think about, not what he said, but about Marlene and I laughing together. I smiled at J.H., he smiled back, and handed me some cinnamon rolls.

“So J.H. what made you rethink your position. The Principal, what made you ask her out? It wasn’t that silly coffee story you just told me was it?”

He laughed. “Of course not. You’re young and full of energy, you have the strength for loneliness, I’m older. I just got too tired to keep it up, it’s hard work, plus, she’s got a great smile.”

I was still terrified, but I did like Marlene. So we started dating. With the quarantine, she couldn’t go home to Denver for Thanksgiving, so J.H. cooked everything. He spent four hours over video conference talking to Alice. They playfully argued over who had the better cornbread dressing recipe.

She was able to fly in the next week and stayed with Marlene. The four of us became inseparable. J.H. bought a huge Christmas tree, and fancy ornaments for my house, but the fun was pulling out Marlene’s old one and decorating the simpler one at her house. At one point J.H. and I were covered in attic dust, but we didn’t care, it was Christmas.

It’s not Christmas yet, and every day with Marlene, and J.H. is an adventure worth risking your heart for, but before I end my story, I want to share one last snippet. That night, after decorating the second tree, he and I drove home. He handed me a small box, wrapped in snowmen wrapping paper, we both knew what it was before I opened it.

The card attached to the coffee cup is something I’ll always cherish. “Everybody needs a good sturdy coffee cup for Christmas. Some days, like pots of coffee with a bad filter, there will be grounds for being disgruntled. Yet, even a bad cup of coffee smells sweeter with someone to share it with.”

Some Christmas stories are told where all the threads are wrapped up, but this year is very different. Neither J.H. or I know how things will turn out with Marlene or Alice, but we do know one thing. If this year has taught us anything, it’s the importance of family, of investing in others, and of sharing a good cup of coffee, and your heart with those you love.

Before

He had made this trip before,

With a man who’s name was not yet changed,

Before His promise was born,

He had made this trip before,

With a teenager in shackles,

Sold as a slave to a caravan.

He had made this trip before,

With a father with joy in his heart,

The son he thought dead was actually alive.

He had made this trip before,

With a prophet who should not have had to go,

Because a people had rejected God.

What He had never done before,

Was see it through human eyes,

In the arms of His Mother He chose.

Each Before was a shadow,

A glimpse of Christ’s Today,

So we could Live To See Tomorrow.

Before led to a manger,

That day led to a life of Service,

An a journey to a mountain called Calvary.

Before is about promises made,

Bethlehem is about promises kept,

Egypt is about protection,

What He spoke to you before He will complete,

What you are birthing He will direct,

An what you are called to do, He will protect.

Gouache Claus

Yesterday I posted another Gouache version of Santa, so I named this one Claus. I hope you enjoy these little fun Christmas smiles.

Gouache Santa

Gouache is a fascinating medium. Here is a little Santa I did last night in Gouache (Opaque Watercolor).

iPainting December Charging Buffalo

I would like to encourage you to charge into your goals list for this Monday like a buffalo in December. You never know what unexpected treasures you’ll find in the process.

Moving Christmas Tree

For years we had stationary trees. Now, we have ornaments that suddenly find themselves being placed back on the tree in different places. The reason being little hands who say mine, and pick a reindeer, rocking horse, or plastic ball off of the tree. Yes, we love moving Christmas Trees.

The joy of Christmas with a child is wonderful, messy, and amazing. Ashley and I don’t mind the mess, because of message attached to it, “he’s only this young once.” There will be other Christmases, but not at 20-21 months.

We’re not brilliant parents, but some extraordinary ones taught us to savor every moment. So we laugh, take as many pictures as possible, and focus on our miracle. Even then, there are reminders that you’ve become distracted with distractions, and you almost missed a milestone.

I’m sure we have let some things slip through our fingers, but hopefully very few. Ashley and I want Nicholas to have the best Christmas ever, but not at the cost of missing Christmas with him. I would encourage you this year, not to get so caught up with making 2020 the best Christmas ever, that you miss making memories.

Trying to hard can make it tedious, but rejoicing in the unexpected, can make memories you never forget. Whether your Christmas is simple, or filled with events, I hope you experience the joy of your Christmas. For like our tree, it’s never stationary.