What They Don't Know Won't Hurt 'Em

I'm all for giving and receiving compliments, a firm believer in telling people things you think of them (kind things that will make them feel good and maybe brighten their day, of course), but twice in the last two days I was the recipient of some pretty over-the-top praise-singing. On Wednesday at pub quiz night at Brillobox, our team had merged with another team and on it was a french woman who, though maybe a tad inebriated, was going on and on about how beautiful I was, how cool I was (as I was penning in the answer: 'Solitary Man,' by Neil Diamond, of all things), how my face was the sort of face that people wanted to paint, my face was art. Wow, lady. Then at work today two psychology students from New Jersey in town for a conference were sampling my oils when one of them asked me, clearly trying to make sense of my business venture, if I owned an olive "plantation" or "acreage in Italy". I burst out laughing, "Oh no! What, do I look like I do?" "Yes," they both answered, probably just being nice. "You're so put together, so with it. You look like the type of woman who would." Bless their hearts, those sweet, naive college girls. Still, if I can make people think that I live the high life then that's just splendid, because guess what? I do. Rob and Olive are worth more than all of the olive groves in the world and I've got those two locked up for life.