He Calls It Clutter

Marcel Makes A Sale

Danny and his wife Lyanne were strolling through the art exhibit when he saw something really unique. They approached the artist and Danny asked, “Uh, what exactly is this supposed to be?”

Blob

Marcel quickly explained, “This painting represents the busyness of life, the rat-race we’re running, cluttering our world with stuff, yet always wanting more.”

Danny eyed the painting. “Yeah. I can see Clutter.”

“Hey, look at it this way.” Marcel used his most persuasive tone. “This is the perfect gift for that someone on your gift list who already has everything.”

Danny gave the artist a rather bemused stare, then his eyes lit up. He pulled out his wallet and handed Marcel his VISA.

Lyanne put a hand on his arm. “Whatever are you thinking?”

He gave her a silly grin. “I know exactly who to give this to.”

On January 3rd VP Harold walked into the Sales Manager’s office…and froze. He pointed to the picture. “What on earth is that supposed to be!”

Randy looked at the painting and sighed. “Christmas gift from my brother-in-law Danny. His little joke, I guess. ‘Perfect for a car leasing exec,’ he says. The artist has titled it Clutter.”

“Yeah. I can see that!” Harold leaned on the door frame and laughed.

Randy rolled his eyes. “Dan and Lyanne will be popping around tomorrow. He said they want to see how it brightens up my drab office.

“I hope you’ll be donating it to charity after that. Because it looks like you let your grandchildren play on your wall with a marker and a ruler.”

“Donate it to charity? Not on your life. Danny and Lyanne’s son’s getting his own apartment in June. This is going to be his housewarming gift. He’ll probably love it—and they’ll get to see it every time they visit him.”

“The gift that keeps on giving, eh?” Harold chuckled as he left to check out what other gifts might have turned up in the company’s offices after Christmas.

I’ve expanded this tale from a Friday Fictioneers story I posted several months ago. My thanks to the artist who posted this image on Pixabay.com.

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Older By A Thumb

An older woman sat in the doctor’s waiting room next to a mother and her young son. Being a grandmother herself, she smiled at the little boy and said “Hi. What’s you name?”

He shyly stared at her for a moment, then said, “Jordan.”

“And how old are you, Jordan?”

“I’m four,” The lad proclaimed, holding out his hand with his four fingers raised.

“Oh, that’s good. And when will you be five?”

The boy looked up at her, puzzled. He looked up at his mom and she gently repeated the question. “When will you be five? Can you tell her?”

The boy looked at his hand, turned back to the older woman and said, “When I stick out my thumb. Like this.” He opened his hand wide. “Then I’m five.”

(Adapted from a cute story I read once.)

Winter Has Its Blessings

Another “character-building” winter day is dawning here in Saskatchewan. Thermometers in the city of Saskatoon are showing -29C / -20F at 7 am with a bracing wind chill equal to -37 C/ -34 F. (Actually the wind is only 8 kms per hour, but at this temp it doesn’t take much wind to give you an invigorating bite if you think of standing around outdoors.) Forecast high today is -21C / -6.

My heart goes out in sympathy to folks who normally live on the street and I’m so thankful there are organizations like the Salvation Army and various street missions that open their doors to the homeless and give them a warm meal. And I’m thankful for my own warm home. It’s a great day to build something at my sewing machine.

During the past few weeks I’ve been going through some scribblings, keying poems and what-not into my computer so I can toss out some of my space-absorbing paper collection. Here’s one silly poem I’ve saved for an especially chilly winter day.

Yes, there are some advantages to a deep freeze.

Ode to a Prairie Pest

What can the use of a grasshopper be?
Not even one purpose occurs to me!
Do you think that God in his great wise ways
has a reason for you on hot summer days?

Or are you guys here to help us know
the blessings of the soft fluffy snow
and cold that freezes those little chins
to keep you from eating the grain in our bins?

So I’ll give thanks for snow a-crunching
that deadens the sound of insects munching.
And now that I think it’s grasshopper free,
how very beautiful heaven must be!