My Artist

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When I was a young woman, my fantasy was to live with a dark-haired, blue-eyed artist. And I still can hardly believe that I do in fact live with a dark-haired, blue-eyed artist. He's not much on melancholy and brooding (most of the time), but he does infuse our lives with creativity, wit, and beauty.

Here's an example. The other day he found two items in the newspaper that he thought I'd be interested in. If it were me doing the telling, I'd just say, "Hey, honey, it turns out that Merriweather was named one of the three top live venues in the country." And "Hey, honey, the police are using patrol dogs at the mall." But here is what I found on the kitchen counter when I got up (it helps to know that "Roo" is his nickname for me):