Sunday

And Goodbye, Wise Man! (8/02/08 Saturday)

I told Mike after work Wednesday as he was dropping me off at my bike. My fears were unwarranted. Not only does he have no feelings for Julie, he’d been thinking that she and I might make a good match. He’s even eager to help me, though neither of us know in what form that assistance might take. He was touched that I would confide in him, and that touched me in turn.

The little bottle of Glenlivet will be on Julie’s desk Monday. No, the Fool has not beaten down the Wise Man, but maybe he has wised him up a touch. A conversation last week combined with one yesterday has given me all the incentive–and cover–I require to pull this off without setting off Julie’s alarms. During the first of these conversations Julie mentioned liking to buy those little bottles. This week I stepped into a conversation between her and Hinckley about liquor. He drew me into it as "the man to talk to about scotch." I told them both about the Scapa I’d bought; Julie bemoaned the selection at her nearest ABC store, and I told her where I got mine. At the end of the day I asked her if she was going to have a "wee dram tonight." "I would," she replied, "if I had some." Hello, Opportunity! Today I bought an inexpensive gift bag at the Hallmark, and as I was agonizing over which color paper to wrap the bottle in and stuff in the bag, I thought of asking for help, then began wondering how I would describe this gift: "More special to me than to her"; "Special, but I don’t want her to think that"; "For someone special to me who doesn’t know it and who I don’t want to know it, yet." Perhaps the act will decide, but what it decides will be more definitive than those options, make them moot or obsolete. On the card I’ll write, "Ye maun hae yer wee dram lass! Slainte mhór!" I won’t sign it; there’ll be no need.

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