Harriman Nelson's Journal

My Friend Lee-page 39
The Creamsickle
The Invitation
Bike Week
The Java Connection
Lee's Tattoo
My Friend Lee-page 33
My Friend Lee-page 34
My Friend Lee-page 35
My Friend Lee-Page 36
My Friend Lee-page 37
My Friend Lee-page 38
My Friend Lee-page 39
My Friend Lee-page 40
My Friend Lee-page 41
My Friend Lee page 42
My Friend Lee-page 43
My Friend Lee -page 44
My Friend Lee-page 25
My Friend Lee-Page 26
My Friend Lee-Page 27
My Friend Lee-Page 28
My Friend Lee -page 29
My Friend Lee -page 30
My Friend Lee-page 31
My Friend Lee-page 32
My Friend Lee-page 24
My Friend Lee-page 23
My Friend Lee- page22
My Friend Lee-page 21
My Friend Lee-page 20
My Friend Lee- Page 19
My Friend Lee-page 18
My Friend Lee page 17
My Friend Lee-page 16
A Short Story
A 'Harry Halloween'
My Friend Lee-page 15
My Friend Lee-page 14
My Friend Lee-page 13
My Friend Lee-page 12
My Friend Lee-page 11
My Friend Lee-page 10
My Friend Lee-page 9
My Friend Lee-Page 8
My Friend Lee-page 7
My Friend Lee-page 6
My Friend Lee-Page 5
Life With Lee-page 4
Life with Lee- page 2
Life with Lee-page 3
Reflections-the 'In Between Years'
My photo-scrapbook album
About Me



There’s an old saying, ‘if you don’t want to do something, one excuse is as good as another.’ I put that to the test today. In retrospect I shouldn’t have balked at the invitation. The Santa Barbara Beauty Contest is a guaranteed publicity event. And I was invited to be one of the judges.

Oh, the idea sent the hormones into over-drive. But I had a couple of problems. One, is the principle of the thing. I don’t think women, or anyone, should be judged based upon what they look like. Second, Angie, my Administrative Assistant, would, should I accept the job, slam drawers, ‘sir’ me to death, and cast glares at me hot enough to burn right through my steel reinforced safe for the next month!

I did the only thing I could. After all, Lee’s young, virile, single (well, technically; after all, his relationship with Miss Hale is still without benefit of clergy, naughty boy) and would be a suitable substitute to represent NIMR. I could just see the female committee members drooling over their steno pads. Yes, talk Lee into it, I convinced myself . That was the plan, and if I say so myself, brilliantly executed.

If I felt a little guilty about using my almost paternal rapport with Lee to sway him, I was sure to hide it.

So, I was a little surprised to see Lee still at his desk past 1800  hours, when the committee meeting was at 1500.

“Lola,” he explained in one word as I stood in the doorway with a raised eyebrow in his direction.

“Oh,” I said, fearing the worst, that I was stuck with the job.

“It’s okay. Chip’s doing it. Kowalski’s helping.”

“Kowalski?” I almost choked. “That’s like putting gasoline on a fire…”

“He volunteered.”

“I’ll just bet…”

“There’s a lot of paperwork.”

“And I wonder who put that notion in his head…”

Lee just grinned, then asked if he might join me at the golf course on Saturday.  Of course, I readily agreed and we parted for the night looking forward to the weekend and maybe some BBQ after. While we watch the pageant on TV.

There’s just one problem about tomorrow. Lee’s no good at golf.  But I think he wants  to be anywhere  but at NIMR or at his apartment should Chip try to call to complain to him. (Ski’s no good at spreadsheets) And the course frowns on players having their cell phones turned on.

Yes, the old adage is true. One excuse is as good as another.