“Hey pardner, did you know your portrait is hanging on the second floor of Manulife Place?”
They go downtown to see and sure enough, there it is. “I have no idea someone did this,” he says, “but, one day, there was a lady down at Fort Edmonton who asked if it was okay to do some sketching. She must have painted this.”
Heavy sigh. “It would be so nice to have it, but look at the price,” she says.
A year later an email arrives. “Cowboy, saw your portrait at the art gallery.”
Heavy sigh. “It sure would be nice to have it,” she says.
A few months later they’re packing to move. She phones the artist. “Do you still have the cowboy painting?” She goes to the artist’s home and asks to buy it. But, my son wants it, the artist tells her. “But, that’s my dad,” her daughter says. “That’s my husband,” she says.
“Oh, well, in that case.” They negotiate a price and take the painting home. She packs it before he can see.
“Where is your cowboy hat?” she asks.
“I have a decorating idea for our new place.”
“Just an idea.”
“You can’t have the hat, if you won’t tell me.”
She packs the hat when he’s not looking.
When they arrive in their new home, she hides the hat and the painting, and hangs them a few days later while he’s out for a bike ride.
He comes in and flies past the painting on an urgent trip to the bathroom. Coming out, he spots the painting. “Oh, my God!” He takes a step back. “Oh, my God!” Another step back. “Oh, my God!” And yet another step back. “Babe, I owe you big time.”
Yes, he does.