Let's make a little mountain here. Let's take some black, some blue and a little bit of crimson. Let's say that mountain lives right here.
Five in the morning. Mom needs about fifteen minutes to get ready before we set off. The house has a drowsy feeling. Like everything is covered in a gentle mist, just happily laying on the furniture, not trying to make too much of an impression. Quite possibly my favorite moment of the morning. While I wait, I peel an orange. I let the citrus vapor find it's way onto my face. Enjoying the calming sensation I settle on the couch with a calm man, well into a painting. This is the world of Bob Ross eats.
We like things that are happy here.
Culturally, Bob Ross is a small phenomenon. Not immensely popular during his time, he has captivated later generations with a voice that leaves Morgan Freeman jealous. My time with him was always a special little time, and always seem to be accompanied with certain foods. Happy little foods find their way onto my plate. Oranges are more often than not the focal point in the meal. Just ever so gently finding their way among the patches of grapes and lake of cereal, both minding their own business. It's a happy little breakfast. Now and then, sometimes a change in direction is nice. Just ever so slightly, maybe some cranberry juice finds it's way into a cup. Who doesn't like new juice every once in a while?
Let's take a little halo blue, a little bit of crimson, and we'll just put a little bit of color right here. Just basically blend it into a bit of nothing.
His afro and anecdotes about fury little animals only add to his aura that has increased through decades. Listening to the story about a small squirrel Bob's assistance is mending, I keep eating. A small dash of milk mixed with a generous amount of cereal; sometimes the most accidental spoonfuls can be the best. I let my little fingers meander down towards the purple grapes. It doesn't matter which I choose, they all look so happy. I settle for a modest grape. Not too large, not too flashy. Just a nice little grape, not looking for any trouble. Off in the distance, I hear signs my mom is close to ready. That's all right. I'll enjoy what time I have left.
Now, let's give this guy a friend.
The episodes last for an entire painting, a convenient time frame of fifteen minutes or so. I have a few moments with the painter until my mom is ready, no rush. I switch around from using my spoon to drink the leftover milk and lifting the bowl. Whichever I feel for the new morning. Whichever I feel. I left one happy little orange slice for the last bite. Sometimes I like to have a fun aftertaste, just a bit of citrus vapor I started my day with. I finish my small breakfast, nothing special, just another variety of food in this happy little culture. Now I can begin my day.
Happy painting, and God bless my friend.
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