Ode to My Quasi-Greek Statue

Sorry, not really a statue, my friend. You're a bust. Head and shoulders only. But what a delightful companion you are! Ready to party at the drop of a hat. To celebrate. How glamourous you looked for New Year’s Eve. Those white and silver plumes in your hair and those rhinestones dripping. Show-stopper! It’s adorable how each time I go to Texas, you don your Dallas necklace announcing my destination. Like you’re ready to burst into “The Stars at Night are big and bright. Deep in the heart . . .” Remember your mask during COVID? You make Christmas special, my friend. Your fresh evergreen wreath festooned with tiny, shiny ornaments. Ho, ho, ho, I say. Something green for St. Pat’s. Flowers on my birthday. And here we come to Valentine’s Day. Your time to shine. You DO shine. All dolled up magenta pink-ish with hearts and flowers. I so enjoy being your stylist. Wish I could figure out what to do with that pallor. That ashen grey concrete look. Make-up might be a bit too much for you, my Athena-like bust from Ashville. You’re not even stone. Some fake look-alike material. But coming around the corner into the living room of 215, my home, and seeing you on the coffee table, it’s like meeting a good friend. The best listener in the world. And certainly, the best dressed. I like your style. Sorry about the complexion remark.

More from the ode-writing class.

And here's a tidbit from the meteorology sessions:

Air heated by lightning-the air temp adjacent to the lightning bolt increases to about 50,000 degrees Fahrenheit literally in a flash! The air jumps away from the lightning bolt so fast it breaks the sound barrier and that’s the thunder we hear. Lightning strikes the earth millions of times a day.

You're welcome. And Happy Valentine's Day.