Pink Professor -- Beautiful Things, Beautiful People

The other day I bought a beautiful bracelet for the Pink Professor. We were prowling around a quaint little shoppe specializing in the magickal and all things esoteric. The cat she (the proprietress) had was also prowling around us, and we joked, perhaps she knew our innermost secrets!

We were there, and, I don't know, maybe I was psychically overwhelmed by the incense, or maybe it was the magick of the wall tapestries, but I had an irresistible urge to get the Pink Professor something, going by the old rede, "An it harm none."

As soon as I bought it, I instantly felt 5x more romantic -- amazing! -- and it wasn't that much. But combined with the beauty of the thing, and the treasured thought that the crafty witch on duty had made it by hand, it upped my romantic inclinations fivefold, six tops. I put it on his wrist, declaring the truth, "I get beautiful things for beautiful people, the beautiful people in my life." That's nice, isn't it? I had observed it setting there, I observed the need for it on his wrist, and finally I bestowed it on him as a gift. Because a thing of beauty needs ... more beauty.

The Pink Professor, no slouch himself when it comes to all things romantic -- a string orchestra ought to be following the dear around -- told me, "It is lovely, but not as lovely as your smile." Aww, I think he might be blinded by love, because my smile isn't that lovely; I have what I'd call bad teeth, even though I go to the dentist, so they're at least functional; but I think what he was getting at was the look of delight on my face, as I could barely squelch my smile in seeing his delight at receiving it. Plus, what's bad teeth when you're in love? He treasures the whole me, and of course the feeling is mutual.

I tried to cover up my romantic sloshing around with a joke on the subject, "Your beautiful response I will milk for all it's worth. I can already hear it splashing in the bucket." And I swear, all this happened way before I got the 1934 picture of the boy with the milk bucket yoke! But it's an interesting coincidence that the rare picture came into my life so soon following!

The rest of this post will be pure fantasy, as I put on a Ricardo Montalban demeanor and speak in his voice:

We share a laugh -- perhaps a little forced -- but it stimulates something genuine -- making it well worth it to force a laugh.

I give him a good appraisal. My eye is drawn to beauty. I'm intuitive, unerring, able to see the underlying truth of appearances and presentation. From your bracelet, I see many glints in the light ... how resplendent!

We retire to the divan. I finger his new bracelet. We contemplate it over coffee and croissants.