Afternoon at the Museum

Mom: You're addicted to the computer.
A.: No, I'm reading a movie review. Are you ready to go?

What I am is ADD, and I have to do something while you dilly-dally.

***
We have a family friend who volunteers for the MFA. She started volunteering when she retired, which she didn't want to do, but her husband and kids talked her into it. She loved her job, and her employers loved her. But she listened to them and regrets it all the time. As far as I'm concerned, she's my poster child for not taking career advice from family (although actually, I'm just as much that poster child).

But I digress. We were on the way to her house to pick up tickets to the museum. Mom described her in her new favorite way to describe people she likes:

Mom: She's not the least bit arrogant.

Which is true. But it's also not worth pointing out.

Mom: Her grandchildren adore her. They say she's easier to talk to than their mother.
A.: That's not surprising.
Mom: Well, I suppose that's the case in many families. I think I'm very easy to talk to. You can certainly tell me anything.

We drove on, through a neighborhood of Newton McMansions, some of which were quite beautiful.

Mom: Of course, you have nothing like this where you live. It's very urban, no nature.
A.: Actually, you don't have to go far out of DC to find this kind of neighborhood.
Mom: I don't think so.
A.: [Shrug]

Mom wasn't finding their house. Nor did she know their address. She was going by memory. I decided to call. At first, Mom asked for directions, but she couldn't listen and drive at the same time, so I took the phone from her. She kept expressing her frustration.

A.: Mom! I can't hear the directions.

Mom kept talking. I kept asking her to keep it down so I could listen to the directions. Eventually, we get there. Ella offers us candy.

Mom: That reminds me, I need to stop and get truffles.
A.: We have plenty of candy in the house. No wonder she always tells me I've gained weight.
Mom: I've never said that! I do say that your clothes are too tight. If you dressed more appropriately, you'd look fine.

We thank them for the passes and set off for the museum. By way of the Ganges. When Ella sees mom heading the wrong way, she comes outside and tries to get her to turn around. Mom insists on going her way. Eventually, we get there (note that this is the second time in this post that I've used that phrase] and even park. Mom is amazed that she found meterless parking right on Huntington. I look around and see no restrictions, and mom's found such parking before so she's not overly concerned. But she is curious, and when we get out of the car, she starts walking away from the museum.

A.: Where are you going?
Mom: I'm intrigued about this free parking. I'd like to see what the deal is.
A.: Mom!
Mom: I'm curious!
A.: I'm going to the museum. Do whatever you want.

While it's a toasty 20 degrees, compared to yesterday's 16, it's still a good 20 degrees cooler than weather appropriate for f*ing around.

I know this is unhip of me, but I like impressionism, and I absolutely love the MFA's impressionist collection. I could have stayed there for hours.

Mom: You know, when you took lessons here-- do you remember that? we tried to teach you everything-- I always insisted on dragging you through these halls, hoping that something would stick. By the way, you always complained. You were hungry.

There we have it: that was the first sign that I wasn't a precocious artistic genius. When I was in grade school, and my mother tried to expose me to culture, I just wanted to eat. That's actually especially shocking since the art class immediately followed swim class-- it was always a mad rush to get over there. So, I would have come straight from swimming, spent a few hours in class, and didn't even want to look at the art because I was hungry. Clearly there was something wrong with me.

***
The Karsh exhibit was mind-blowing. It was unbelievable. You could see the subjects think. I'm as much of an art critic as I am an artist, so I'll spare you any attempt at a more detailed description, but it was f*ing amazing. I didn't want to look at anything else afterward; my brain was full.

I did consider stopping at the giftshop.

Mom: We have plenty of art books!
A.: But...
Mom: You can take one of those.
A.: But...

She wanted to go home, which was understandable. That's all she had to say. But it's interesting that the same attitude about things extends to art-- everything's interchangeable. Individual tastes don't figure into it.

***
If I didn't make this clear, if you're in or near Boston, go to the Karsh exhibit. It's worth it.