A Magical Day

On Saturday, we cavorted among the faerie houses (again) at the Florence Griswold Museum.  If you're in Connecticut this month, definitely go visit!

We all liked the first house, a Japanese tea house.  Bud even sketched it.  Can you find the blue teapot?  Each house stop on the map had a seek-and-find question.  We found most of the items, going back again to the houses where we couldn't find the treasure immediately.

Another one that piqued our curiosity as this one, complete with burnished emblems on the stumps.  Can you find the reindeer?

I really liked the faerie houses that blended in with the trees or rocks or grasses.  This Autumnal Fortress is spread out through lots of nooks and crannies. 

This house was nestled next to the tree, with numerous ladders and doors all around.  I think the doors and ladders were my favorite detail of all the faerie houses.

This was one of the kids' favorite houses, the Dew Drop.

And just several random details I liked from other houses.

We walked through the grounds by the Lieutenant River at least twice, admiring all 30+ houses and finding five of the "fringe faeries," or faery houses not on the original map, which were hidden in plain sight.

One of the last houses was the Pearl Palace, nestled next to a stream, which was lined with houses in the bank, another of my favorite houses.

 After a wonderful lunch on the veranda of the museum (wild mushroom bisque, butternut squash and apple soup, spinach salad, mushroom ravioli, chicken pot pie, apple crisp, and a trio of ice creams--peach cobbler with gingersnap, hazelnut with milk chocolate and seville orange with basil, so yummy), the kiddos built their own faerie houses "beyond the beyond."

Bud's teepee-shaped house with a thatched pine needle roof.

Sis's lean-to with a pine roof and a table laid with "bread with honey" (a rock with sap) and other delicacies.

We ended the day with a visit with Tracy Kane, the author of several books on faerie houses.  She signed her new photographic compendium, Fairy Houses--Unbelievable!, and her new mystery novel, Forest Secrets, for us.

We headed home through the pouring rain and dried off at home while watching Fairytale, about the girls who took the Cottingley fairy pictures in 1917.  

Then today, after the yard dried out, Sis and Bud built 10 houses in a village in our yard, providing a map for us and a personally-guided tour, during which we were asked to spot the hidden treasures.  Just like at the museum.  That is why we go on these outings:  not just for the initial information and enjoyment, but for the inspiration and imagination that follow for days and weeks to come.   May the magic of the faeries be with us for a long time.

Spring Vacation: Staycation

Thursday and Friday were specifically dedicated to our family's spring break "staycation" since we couldn't, in good conscience, drag a recovering-from-the-flu child out of town.  So, instead we have

• indulged in a huge pancake breakfast at our favorite breakfast place, which I delighted in after my own almost two-year hiatus
• built new and old Lego sets (Sis has the Friends beauty parlor and Bud and Mama are putting the medieval castle back together again)
• danced in a brief rain shower, while trying to spot a rainbow
• watched a red-tail hawk in a nearby tree ("hawkspotting")
• watched lots of new-to-us "Phineas and Ferb" episodes, including the three-part rollercoaster arc (the original first episode, the time traveling Quantum Bugaloo, and the "Rollercoaster, The Musical.")
• visited the Discovery Museum in Bridgeport (the kids had fun but, frankly, it was awful--very poor didactics when they existed at all because they didn't give kids the info they needed to appreciate the topic at hand or answer their poorly-worded, not-open-ended questions; dirty and broken exhibits (piles of used paper, broken pens, missing stars for constellations, and numerous broken electronics); mediocre aesthetics--poorly designed and hung didactic panels in various fonts on small sheets of paper, chipped paint, dirt; lack of basic instructions or clearly intuitive procedures for hands-on activities.  All around CRAP.  The only good parts were the hands-on activities in the "My House, Your House" exhibition, with the build-your-own cabin, walk-in Mongolian ger, and the Fiji fire pit.)
• eaten lunch at Bloodroot--peanut and mustard greens soup, tofu salad with sesame oil dressing, grilled Swiss cheese, Bloodroot "burger," cheese omelet, oatmeal bread, chocolate devastation cake, brown rice pudding, and lemon-lavender posset in a china cup.  MMMMMMmmmm!  The posset might be the best dessert I've ever had there, better than the pumpkin or blueberry tofu mousses or the cranberry kissel (tied, perhaps, with brandied fruit over ice cream!).  Sis thought so, too.  But, otherwise, the kids didn't like it at all.  Which has me considering a vegetarian month here at home to break the must-have-meat/not natural foods habit.
• gardened, after a trip to the garden store--Sis got red, orange, yellow, and purple pansies plus some trailing verbena with red flowers.  We also have some sweet basil and new pink phlox for the rock wall (since the old phlox is creeping into crevices beautifully).  We spent time outside planting and watering all of these.
• played a new game called Yoome, which requires not only the game but also an iPad app.  It's hard to explain but it's basically a get-to-know-you game with dualistic (is that a word?) questions (ketchup or mustard?  winter or summer?) that one player answers secretly and the others try to guess; best guesser wins.
• read more poetry before bed, including the perfect spring poem for today:

"Maytime Magic" by Mabel Watts 

A little seed

For me to sow...

A little earth

To make it grow...

A little hole, 

A little pat...

A little wish, 

And that's that.

A little sun,

A little shower...

A little while,

And then--a flower!

Time Travel

The Cloisters from the Western Terrace

The Cuxa Cloister

The Rabbit in the Unicorn Tapestries

The Unicorn in Captivity

(all of the above taken without flash by my phone; every time I take a picture, I remember the ad, "If it rings, it's not a camera.  I'll see if Mama will upload her pics from her fancy camera!)


Yesterday we traveled through time and space via The Cloisters, the medieval art branch of the Met, in northern Manhattan.  Mama and I hadn't been in years, the kids never, but we were drawn by the exhibition of the famed Lewis Chessmen.

Better known as the inspiration of the set Ron and Harry play in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.

Sis and Bud had a great time admiring the intricate walrus ivory pieces, with their unique details.  The kids even drew their favorite pieces.  We learned a lot about chess, from its origins in 6th-century India where elephants were main pieces--these later became bishops when the game moved into Western Europe; how Rooks/Castles replaced Warders, and the subset Beserkers, who are often show biting their shields; how rules change--the King used to be able to move 4 squares in his opening and the Queen could initially jump other pieces; how ivory chess pieces were made in Trondheim, Norway, in the 11-12th centuries and moved West through trade to Scotland, where this horde was found in the early 19th-century--the man who first dug them up thought they were elves!

The kids continued to draw throughout the museum, with Mama's guidance in forming shapes and sketching--a wall painting of a lion, an archway, a crucifix, and stained glass windows, enjoying how much the whole place felt like a medieval castle.  We even went outside in the damp fog to take in the view of the Hudson from the Western Terrace.  We could enjoy the "ramparts" of the museum but could only barely see the outline of the massive George Washington Bridge (GWB).  The other outdoor spaces--the two cloisters filled with plants--were closed for the winter, but I still enjoyed sitting in the Cuxa Cloister, with the scent of potted hyacinths and rosemary, plus citrus and olive trees.

Bud was bothered by the tomb effigies, even after we explained that the skeletons were long gone.  He just couldn't appreciate the chain mail and shields while thinking of them as tombs. We did notice, however, that most of the sepulchres had dogs at the feet of the departed; one elaborate tomb also sat on lions and a sheep, with a bunny nearby.  We also marveled at the extensive damage to one sculpture's face due to touching over time--dark, shiny, and lacking detailed compared to the face of the sculpture out of reach.

Sis liked the Unicorn Tapestries (and here), particularly because of the rabbit in one of them.  We listened to a visiting art history prof give an awful, incoherent, and incorrect explanation of the tapestries to his class of bored college students; when he left, I told the kids all the other interpretations of the works of art.  "Bad" or lazy or simplistic art history--especially because in this case he provided a rigid religious interpretation, ignoring the two tapestries that didn't fit (which scholars believe belong to a secular metaphor of the unicorn as lover), and then discounting a question by a student about other unicorn tapestries, which he'd never heard of (in Cluny!  See the novel The Lady and the Unicorn by Tracey Chevalier)--drives me nuts (like DaVinci Code).  They especially liked the unicorn's horn (actually a narwhal tusk) on view.  We also spent some time admiring The Merode Altarpiece, with Mama and I plumbing the depths of Art 101 for all the symbolism in the detailed piece.  Sis liked the baby Jesus flying to Mary on the mini-cross!  We also examined more than one Lamentation and Pieta, giving us a chance to review the Easter story with the kids.

But that's next weekend!

A Weekend in Beantown

We just got back from a three-day weekend in Boston, a wonderful getaway for the whole family.  We're trying to take regular little family trips--the overnight in Times Square, the overnight in Hartford, and now two nights in Boston--to test my my abilities and, more importantly, to engage in new, fun, memorable family activities.  Beyond colonial history, marine biology, and Yankee cooking, we discovered a few things on this trip:

• Two nights and three days is, for now, our family limit for vacations, both because of my endurance but also because of the kids', too.  We discovered that I got tired right before they did (generally, after about 3 hours of sightseeing.)
• We realized that, in future, we should do our biggest, most involved activities the first day, because, regardless, we'll all be more tired the second day.  The second day is really a half day--the kids collapsed Sunday afternoon, which we weren't quite prepared for.
• Centrally-located hotels in cities are the ideal vacation because lots of activities are in walking distance and I can come and go from the room to rest as needed.  It also gives me quite a sense of accomplishment--for the first time in a year, I could actually go get a coffee  at Starbuck's when I wanted one!  And for me now, that's freedom.  (So, Boston, NYC, Hartford, Providence--3 hours is about my limit in the car for now, so maybe Philly later)
• Snacks are key.  We get hungry on different schedules and hunger really effects mood and behavior.  Especially because Sis is a much more particular eater and didn't like what we got for meals sometimes.  We should have carried more snacks.
• Breakfast in the hotel is so much easier.  And, in fact, the buffet at our hotel was actually a real high-point for the kids.  They woke up Monday morning and immediately began planning their breakfast choices, even before they got out of bed!
• I can take cabs and subways for short distances with little problem (about 5-10 minute rides)!  But this did give me the ability to go further and get back quickly and easily.  
• We should seek out the UU congregation wherever we go.  I went to church on Sunday and it was an eye-opening experience to be with another congregation.  Especially because this one was Unitarian Christian, a rare bird (esp. for me) indeed.
• Mama and I enjoy used bookstores, like the Brattle Book Shop, more than the kids do, but we still go--and have heavy bags to carry home afterwards!  We all like gift shops and end up with postcards, magnets, pin, patches, books, and t-shirts.  We also like picking up pamphlets for our scrapbook.  We try not to spend more time in the shop than the attraction, sometimes easier said than done!  And our usual allotment of spending money based on ticket price goes out the window on vacation sometimes.  
• Wherever we go, we seem to attract mild attention.  Of course, Sis had on an adorable fuzzy panda hat.  And Bud had on a knit penguin hat.  So, they're awfully cute, if I do say so myself.  But, even in same-sex-marriage-approving Massachusetts people--particularly bored people in restaurants--look at us repeatedly and talk about us and sometimes even gesture and think we don't notice.  But I do.  I know.  I can hear.  I can see.  Sometimes, I can read lips.  I know they are trying to guess if Mama is a man or a woman, usually deciding that she's my son (it happened twice on this trip alone.  That I know about directly because I was asked).  I know they wonder if these are "my" children, whatever that means (and never "ours," because they never guess that Mama is a parent, sometimes even after I've explained it).  I know they talk about the race of our kids, wondering how they became biracial (really, people, this is a question in 2012?  The president is biracial, for heaven's sake!).   I know they rarely realize that we are two lesbians with children.  I know because they aren't as subtle as they think they are.  If they had a real question, I'd be glad to answer it direcly--I'm all for teachable moments and I'm good at lesbian/biracial outreach, but usually they're just gossipy and can't think of anything else to discuss (Really, people?  In this day and age?  Luckily, with the ubiquity of cellphones at meals, perhaps this will become a thing of the past.  If I had a dollar for every table where no one talked and everyone surfed, I could've paid for all those meals!)  And the waitresses usually ask, or apologize awkwardly after they get it wrong.  And so we teach our kids not to comment, hypothesize, discuss, stare, talk about, or point at people, especially when we're bored in restaurants, unless they have a genuine question (kids do, sometimes, about wheelchairs or yarmulkes and such). Everyone has inherent worth and dignity; we don't need to talk about them.  Because we don't like it when they talk about us.

We loved our trip and the kids are already asking to go back.  I must admit to some prior prejudice against Boston, being more NYC-oriented.  But who, besides my kids, wouldn't love a place called Beantown?  I'd been there three times before, but none of them counted:  an overnight on a trip to Canada with Gommie and Uncle T when I was in high school (we arrived around 9 p.m. and left before 8 a.m.  We took a late-night driving tour of some of the sights, in a rush to get to the outlet malls in Freeport, ME and onto the family reunion in Trois Pistoles on the St. Lawrence!); a college trip for a fraternity, Alpha Phi Omega, conference, which included for me visits to the Boston MFA, Isabella Stewart Gardner, and Fogg but nothing colonial; and finally, a trip to lead a panel at the annual art historians' conference when the kids were just 6-months old, when we did follow the red line for just a bit, taking some pictures, and eating at Durgin Park, the kids' first restaurant meal--of oyster crackers!

This time, we did so much more:

Paul Revere:  Bud was very intent on Paul Revere this trip and I was interested in seeing his 17th-century house myself.  So, the first day, we walked to the North End, which is Boston's Little Italy or Arthur Avenue.  I heard more Italian there than anywhere else outside of Italy.  And there, nestled amid the gelaterias, pizzerias, and salumerias, was this preserved example of English medieval urban architecture, complete with overhanging second floor, casement windows, and shingled exterior.  Of course, it's an imagined version of the house, having been incorrectly restored in the early 20th-century, but it was wonderful to wander the four remnant rooms where Revere and his large family lived.  It was packed with tourists and a couple of indifferent (read: awful) guides.  But we still enjoyed seeing the starting point of the midnight ride.

From there we wandered to the Old North Church, where two lanterns hung signaling an approach by sea.  The lanterns are no longer there (supposedly one is in Concord).  It's a lovely Georgian church with enclosed pews, raised pulpit, and tower with bells that a modern bell guild was practicing on that day.  Bud enjoyed asking about the whereabouts of the lanterns and how exactly the signaler got inside the church at night (he was a verger, I believe) and how he got to the tower (through doors in the organ!).  And then we perused the book shop where th American Heritage chocolate people were given a demo and samples.  I like the historic chocolate blend even if my chocolate buddy Sis didn't.  

Bud finished his explorations of Revere by sitting in Revere's pew at King's Chapel and seeing where he was buried in the Granary Burying Ground.  Oh, and he posed for a picture near the iconic statue of the midnight ride.

Freedom Trail:  The red-brick line connecting historic sites has to be one of the best things any tourist district has ever done.  It makes navigating the narrow, winding streets of a confusing town so much easier.  And the kids took it quietly literally--Sis and Bud actually stuck to the red line as they led us around.  We saw most of the stops, if only for a bit, including

• Paul Revere's House
• Old North Church
• Fanueil Hall (closed for renovation--the NPS Visitor Center is moving; the NPS has a great shop and very knowledgeable Rangers) and Quincy Market (but really just to look at from the outside; we're not mall goers).
• King's Chapel and Burying Ground--now a Unitarian (Christian!) church, this chapel has a Revere bell and his pew, too.  Bud and Sis got to sit in it!  
• Granary Burying Ground--with Paul Revere's grave, as well as those of James Otis, the first woman off the Mayflower, and victims of the Massacre.
• Old South Meetinghouse
• Old State House--this was a delightful discovery, with numerous galleries geared to children's exploration of colonial history (a puzzle of the building, a timeline of history that you can mark with dates relevant to your own family, sniff bottles of the scents of Boston, a clock like the one in the tower that you can wind, life-size versions of the Unicorn and Lion on the exterior) and a special heraldry activity the day we visited.
• Sites of the Old Corner Bookstore and Boston Latin School

Omni Parker House:  The centrally-located home of Boston Cream Pie and Parker House rolls was our base for the trip.  I could get very used to staying in historic hotels!  I loved the grand lobby, all the history (Dickens stayed there often--the mirror he practiced his characters in for his dramatic readings was outside the restrooms!), and the attentive service.  The kids even got cookies and milk the first night!  The location was grand, too.  The kids liked our corner suite, named after Boston Massacre victim, Crispus Attucks.  And the breakfast buffet!  Sis got Parker House rolls both days and Bud had salmon.  Both wolfed down bacon and sausage.  On our last morning there, I spotted a couple of kids with hot chocolates in tall mugs with mountains of whipped cream, reminding me of a childhood trip to the Marriott in New Orleans when I was about their age--I got hot chocolate in a tall mug with a mountain of whipped cream several times on that trip. And it tasted just the same in Boston!  Sometimes you can go back. 

Eating Out:  Mercy, we love eating out.  And we did quite a bit of it this trip, including:

• Galeria Umberto--incredible Sicilian pizza in a nondescript building in the North End, where they serve big squares, plus arancini and a few other things, only until the dough runs out; we made it just in time!
• Mike's Pastry--another North End stop, this time for cannoli, biscotti, a little gelato, and oddly a huge pasty called a lobster, with a deep fried layered shell surrounding a mix of ricotta, yellow cream, and whipped cream.  We munched on these for a few days.
• Wagamama--Mama and I had eaten at a branch of this Japanese noodle shop in Covent Garden, London, of all places.  The kids loved it--ramen, soba, gyoza, rice--yum.  
• Durgin Park--"Yankee cooking" and incredibly indifferent service, but Bud helped Mama crack a lobster, shuck clams, and devour clam chowder, too.  We also had chicken pot pie, pot roast, fish and chips, baked beans, Indian  pudding, and apple pandowdy.  But, the food is traditional and now it's a family tradition, too--we looked at pictures of Sis and Bud's first trip to Boston here.  They were such chub-a-lubs.  
• Union Oyster House--more historic "Yankee cooking" in an even more historic building (a la Daniel Webster and later JFK).  We had pretty much the same foods--clam chowder, fish and chips, baked beans, Indian pudding, but also oyster stew, "lazy man's lobster," and chicken fingers.  Yep, poor girl had suffered through enough food she didn't like and devoured her usual favorites.  While we were there, the "Ancient and Honorables," America's oldest milita, were meeting in their full dress uniforms (I thought they might be the fire department brass!).  And the kids got to touch a lobster, too.

The Aquarium:  Penguins!  Rockhopper.  African.  Little Blue Fairy.  I'm not sure there's much else to say. Sis and Bud spent four hours exploring marine life with Mama (and me for the first two hours)--there were sea dragons (literally, they look like little dragons), fur seals, jelly fish, turtles, sharks, a sting-ray tank, touch-tanks with horseshoe crabs and hermits, a tidal pool with programmable crashing wave, a tank where you can change the current and watch the fish turn around.  And an IMAX (with "cuddle fish").  But really, the best part was the penguins.

King's Chapel:  Sunday morning found me, quite unexpectedly, arriving back from a few hours at the aquarium just as service started.  Who could resist the opportunity to worship at a 17th-century church that holds Unitarian services (because all the good Church of England parishioners died or left during the war!)?  It was like no service I've ever been to, even the mainline Protestant and also Catholic services of my childhood.  But it was grand!  The ushers were friendly when they learned I was a UU, too, finding a nice enclosed pew for me in back.  But I was like a fish out of water. Where was the Living Traditions hymnal?  What was with the Bible and Book of Common Prayer (specifically for King's Chapel) and a different hymnal?  And the service had more Latin in it than I heard at the Vatican!  Magnificat.  Jubilate Deo. Plus readings from the Old and New Testaments and prayers said while kneeling.  And  the reciting of the Our Father, which, believe it or not, I actually know from my days at the Southern Baptist church (though I never know if we're gonna have sins or   trespasses.)  The sermon--remarkably, the church is led by a woman--combined the readings, references to smartphones, a short story about her family's connection to the Underground Railway, and the quote about Naomi and Ruth "whither thou goest, I will go"--thoroughly enjoyable (though way too biblical for me--the connections to the readings were forced and not fleshed out).  The most marvelous part was the music--the organ and the angelic choir in the loft.  I could just imagine Paul Revere and his compatriots, Louisa May Alcott and hers, praying, listening, singing there.  And I didn't mind the formal prayers so much, enjoying the wordy structure, finding even one of them quite touching.  I'm not nearly a UU Christian, but I'd go to services there again.  Even if they teased me about being "mainstream UU."  Now, isn't that an oxymoron?

The Ducks:  I didn't make it on the journey through Boston Common, with stops at the Robert Gould Shaw memorial (the Unitarian who led the African American troops in the Civil War; you know, from Glory) and another Civil War memorial.  And of course, the Make Way for Ducklings statue of Mama duck and ducklings and the nearby island in the pond.  No water in the pond, no ducks, no floating swan boats, but the kids were thrilled anyway.  Someone had even dressed the ducks up, tying red ribbons on their necks!

Transportation:  Bud kept asking us if he could ride a city bus or the "T."  Such a suburban kid!  So we took the subway to the aquarium, though it was close enough to walk.  And then later we took a cab home from lunch.  The bonus?  I could get places without walking, thereby extending the circle of my explorations.  Yep, I SAT in a cab, on one side, for about five minutes.  

Isabella Stewart Gardner:  Our last Boston stop was at the art museum.  I chose the Gardner over the Boston MFA because the ornate palazzo chock-full of objets c'art is such a memorable place.  Especially with the empty frames indicating the Vermeer and Rembrandts and Degas and Manets stolen in 1990.  The kids got to do two art activities here--one crown- and shield-making craft while we waited a bit to get in (they recently reopened after a renovation and the place was packed!  They were also completely unprepared with only two ticket sellers.  And even with the timed tickets, which no one told you about until you reached the front, they were letting way too many people in for it to be entirely enjoyable.  Plus the bathroom arrangement is ridiculous--one stall on the main floor with no indication of the much larger bathrooms downstairs.  A silly oversight in a brand new building, which was all glass with pretty gardens outside but not enough space inside.) and then an engraved foil square that they made in the famed courtyard.  We walked through all the rooms, perfect examples of horror vacui, with Italian, Spanish, Chinese, French, and other paintings, sculpture, furniture, drawings, engravings, dec arts, architectural fragments, stained glass.  Plus a few paintings of Gardner herself.  We didn't bother with the new wing and the shop was an utter disappointment with extremely overpriced handmade knick knacks unrelated to the collection.  And only a few postcards.  Still, the kids won't soon forget it--the place has amazing art and ambiance.   

So now we have clothes to wash, postcards to write, souvenirs to put and give away.  And almost a whole week of winter break to rest, relax, and enjoy.  

The Marvelous Met

Our visit to the Met yesterday was astounding.  Of course, I always love going to the Met, but this was momentous for a variety of reasons:  I hadn't been since before April, when I reinjured my back, missing several exhibitions I had hoped to see; I still find standing on hard surfaces for a long time a challenge and the floors at the Met are stone; and I had long awaited the reopening of the Islamic galleries, now the Art of Arab Lands and it just opened to rave reviews (see also here for a discussion of the challenges of presenting Islamic art).

The new galleries, officially galleries for the Art of Arab Lands, Turkey, Iran, Central Asia, and Later South Asia (yes, that is way too long, but it conveys less a false monolithic entity and more the diversity that was a vast region over 1500+ years), are glorious (see here in pics from the NYTimes and the Met):

Look at those floors in the introductory gallery!  (You can't see it here, but one gallery had glass lanterns hanging above the historical objects which inspired them)  And the alternately warm and dramatic lighting in the other galleries!  The replication of both palatial and intimate settings to engage directly with the objects! The labels were informative, but not too, and were well placed.  I applaud both the designers and the curators.  Of course, my favorite space, the space I remembered from eight plus years ago, before the galleries closed, the one Mama had never seen until I took her, on what was our ultimate date at the Met (followed by a walk down Fifth and dinner at Carnegie Deli one Friday night), was the Damascus Room, a receiving room bringing together so many of the arts on display, with the wonderful trickling fountain:

It was even more wonderful than I had recalled.  It, and all the objects, shine in this new interpretation and installation, such an improvement over the old, shabby galleries.  Warm, inviting, comfortable, were words that came to mind--these are galleries I will visit again and again, being happy to wander and linger.  Now, I'm not fully conversant with the breadth and depth of the arts of Arab lands, having only touched upon them in classes on other topics or in exhibitions tangentially related.  But for the purpose of our first view of the galleries and an introduction of the art to the kids, that was not a hindrance, especially because of the visual power of the objects.

The kids had a scavenger hunt that we'd picked up from the information desk and so were on the lookout for numerous objects, from details in manuscript illuminations to repeating patterns in large carpets, from ceramic plates to metal incense burners.  Between finds, we admired the floral and animal themes; followed the intricate (seemingly) symmetrical, repeating, interlocking patterns; counted the numerous references to battling animals (large cat vs ibex, on carpet, illumination, book binding, and dagger hilt); spotted the embedded calligraphy; admired the tiny details in the illumination; wondered at how mosaics, tilework, even ceiling engravings are joined; and thrilled at several depictions of rabbits.

Perhaps the most revelatory aspect of the new galleries was stepping out of them into the adjacent 19th-century European paintings galleries, the first one hung with Orientalist works by the likes of Gerome.  We played compare and contrast::  here were oil paintings, numerous depictions of humans (there are some in Islamic art; not all believed in the prohibition of the depiction of humans), a focus on the "exotic," the Other.  Even to first graders, it was obvious that these second-hand depictions by outsiders paled in comparison to the real thing.  And professionally speaking, even though my beloved European 19th-century galleries were renovated about 20 years ago, they look old and tired in comparison with their new neighbors, particularly because in these galleries paintings are removed from their original contexts, which were elaborate houses of rich patrons, complete with furniture and other objets d'art, well-illuminated and hung in rows on the "dead" (at least no longer white) walls of the museum/mausoleum.  While the art of Arab lands is displayed all together (not manuscripts here, mosaics there in some kind of surgical separation of media that plagues the study of European art, subdivided as painting, decorative arts, sculpture, textile etc), it avoids the ethnographic, exotic Other feel of natural history museums--this is art on par with all the other art in the museum, with each object as worthy of study as the oil paintings on the line.

Really, I could go on and on, but I'm not sure it would convey the depth of my appreciation for the galleries. And for the day.  I was so proud, so happy, so excited, so relieved to have made it to and through the museum--two hours without any real problems--I'd be standing at a carpet and find myself in tears at the wonderfulness of it all.  I am so grateful to Mama, for handling all of the logistics, and to the kids for humoring me (when they really wanted to go to Egyptian!).  They were a delight, enthusiastically exploring every gallery, soaking in an art very new to them.  We then went outside for food--the carts are almost better than the cafeteria, with new gourmet pretzels and organic cupcakes, with of course, the standard hot dogs.  We ate, swatted away pigeons, people-watched, and enjoyed the buskers singing Motown tunes. We bought a few postcards and a catalog.

And planned our next visit . . . .

EPIC WIN!!!!!

Dinosaur Delights

Dinosaurs. Fossils. Puppets. Oh my!

The kiddos had a fantastic time at a special dinosaur day at the museum with Mama. Yep, we're back in a dino phase, thanks in great part to "Dino Dan," the Canadian tv show about a kid who studies dinosaurs which he actually sees wandering around his neighborhood. They love it.

And they loved being at the museum--for 4+ hours!--with Mama. They colored dinosaur hats, saw a puppet show, touched dinosaur fossils, and participated in a "sand dig," finding one fossil each to keep. They did non-dino things too, like visiting the dioramas and the Egyptian exhibits, exploring the space installation, and exploring the discovery room, with its ant colony. When they got home, they turned the basement into a museum.

At home, I walked, blogged, researched colonial life for the historic house, read, made pie dough, watched the movie Bright Star on Keats and his love Fanny Brawne (good in that BBC way, though it was by the director of The Piano), and thoroughly enjoyed a very long free time.

Funny how kids change focus so quickly, though: today it's Harry Potter; yesterday it was medieval knights. I imagine it'll be ninjas and Star Wars again soon, plus school/restaurant/hotel.

But it'll still be "Dino Dan" everyday.

Someone's in the City with Mommy

We took advantage of the Election Day school holiday to take the kids into NYC today, first for my doctor's appointment and then for some fun. The doctor, who continues to be a supportive and good listener, confirmed after looking at all my x-rays and MRIs that I have trouble in my mid-thoracic because of scoliosis and the resultant bulging discs. There is almost nothing to be done about it because it is a hard spot to exercise and very dangerous to operate. So I am just supposed to keep walking to strengthen what I can. And take pain pills when it flares up. At least it was nothing new, right? Except there was something: bursitis. In my tail bone. Which is making it uncomfortable to sit those full 15-30 minutes I sometimes sit in a day when I drive the kids to school. It should get better on its own; if not, injections. I probably just sat funny, even just once. Great. I think I can safely say that I'm never going to sit again--just causes too much trouble.

The drive into town was stressful when Sis remembered that she'd forgotten Shirt at home, something we do regularly but it must have mattered more today. And she was hysterical. But eventually calmed down. Until Bud brought it up again. And he was obsessed with fire escapes--what were those ladders for? why did you need them? what happens if you can't get to the escape? And all I can picture are the Twin Towers. Soon, however, the still intriguing novelty of being in Manhattan took over and they were admiring the tall buildings and longing for a street-cart hot dog.

After my doctor's appointment, during which they played on their new Nintendo DSIs, bought specifically to distract them during the visit (that, and Mama wants them to be videogame literate, so it was on her list to do anyway), we went to the Met. Our main destination was the Kublai Khan exhibition, which didn't really interest them on the first viewing and disappointed me on this, my second (we'd seen it when we were early for my last doctor's appointment). The objects were rare and intriguing, though impenetrable, and the dense labels were not at all helpful explanations for laypeople (I'm more than a little familiar with Chinese art, Taoism, and Buddhism, and I found them impossible to comprehend. Shouldn't let curators write labels. Ever.). We did, however, really enjoy a small exhibition on Chinese birthday celebrations, including the imagery of the 7th-century (or was it 6th?) General Guo Ziyi's 80th birthday, dragon robes, and decorative arts with the symbol for longevity, cranes, and peaches. And they liked the Buddhas and Indian gods with several arms. Of course, we also visited Egypt, to see Sis's beloved "William" the blue hippo, and Arms and Armor (where she likes the Samurai helmet with the bunny). And, in American, the Versailles panorama and Frank Lloyd Wright room. But no Washington Crossing the Delaware yet. We saw Panini's Ancient Rome in the exhibition on Roman views and Bud immediately recognized that it was a painting of a museum (though an imaginary one with a hole in the roof). We spent some time in 19th-century European, particularly once Sis and Bud spotted the Van Goghs, recognizing the trees and the swirls from their study of MoMA's Starry Night. And they liked the dots of the Seurat (though not as much as the thick impasto of Van Gogh). Sis was also intrigued with Moreau's Oedipus and the Sphinx; Bud liked the story and asked me to retell it repeatedly, particularly the riddle part, which Sis actually guessed right off (though, I'm not sure at first that she knew why humans are the ones who walk on four legs in morning, two at midday, and three in the evening). Then, Sis wanted to see a Jackson Pollock and they both pondered--stared dumbfounded at--Autumn Rhythm. And in the room of Clyfford Stills (like the big red dog?), Sis said, "This is the room of paintings that don't look like something." Over and over, "why did they paint this, Mom?" We talked about how this is what artists wanted to paint after a long time of painting people and stories and landscapes. We talked about how the viewer helps decide what the paintings are about. We finally agreed that they were paintings about paint. Smarter than some of my Art Hist 101 kids, I say.

We did notice in the Temple of Dendur ("the building within a building") that the crocodile in the fountain was missing. For the rest of the visit and the drive home, we imagined where it could be, making up fantastical tales about him wandering the Met at night, befriending "William," and eventually escaping out a door left open during party clean-up (not that I'm saying that happens!). Then the crocodile wanders the city, meets dinosaurs and diorama animals out and about from AMNH, and can eventually be found all over the city and back at the Met, just in different rooms. But not in any of the ones we saw today.

So, head to the City and look for that crocodile . . . no telling where it will show up next!

It might even be worth sitting down for.

Never On a Sunday

For once, we went out on Sunday instead of Saturday, our preferred family outing day, especially for big trips like going to the "dinosaur museum." Yep, we went into the city yesterday to see the Silk Road exhibition one more time and also to see the new "Race to the End of the World" exhibit on the South Pole expeditions. Plus, of course, dinosaurs and dioramas.

Why Sunday? Well, with kung fu class on Saturday, we wouldn't have gotten into the city until 11:30-12ish, which puts our visit square in the middle of the rush. At least going early on Sunday, we had it to ourselves for the first hour or so. Literally. There was only one other family anywhere near us in the Silk Road exhibition. And they had young twins too!

Then after a long and fun day in the city, we tacked on some things at the end: we went to our favorite local ice cream place and got kids' cups of strawberry, chocolate, sweet cream, and chocolate mint. And, still being "city kids," Bud and Sis had a good laugh watching two asleep barn cats, who looked just like our two cats. Yep, it was fun to watch cats sleep.

Heading home, I spotted a sign that I didn't expect to see, for one of our favorite barbecue joints. It has closed and relocated and expanded so many times we'd lost track, but here it was. And so we picked up dinner: ribs (alas, pork!), brisket, beans, greens, sweet potato fries, black-eyed peas and rice, and sweet tea that was so sweet that even I couldn't drink it.

We got home two plus hours after we'd intended which extended bedtime 'til almost 8:30. But it was a great day.

Except I kept thinking it was Saturday and was sorry to remember that today is Monday.

Spring, Glorious Spring!

The weather this weekend couldn't be more different from the snow still hanging around last weekend: it was in the low 50s, the sun was shining, and our crocuses that we planted last year are starting to peep up.

And so we decided to head into the city. There was only one glitch: we found out that our favorite part of Central Park Zoo--the children's section with the bunnies (is it redundant to have a children's section at a zoo? who else goes to zoos?)--was closed because of snow damage. It wouldn't do to take Bud to see the new King penguins but not have the bunnies for Sis, so we opted for a stop a few blocks up from there--the Met.

Okay, sure, staying inside a museum seems antithetical on a glorious spring day, but it met the required criteria of being an outing and being in the city. We skipped the children's program because I haven't been that impressed with the object selections and activities (it seems haphazard at best, and, frankly, I can do much better). So, we'd packed our own colored pencils and white paper plus cardboard drawing boards (always check the museum rules about sketching in the galleries. For instance, the Met doesn't allow crayons or sketching in special or temporary exhibitions). Our museum assignment: fill a drawing of a house with objects you'd like to have it in. Right away we stopped in the Greek and Roman galleries so Bud and Sis could draw black- and red-figure vases in their houses; Bud also added a statue. All while we talked about the Greeks as the people who started the Olympics (though, I neglected to point out that those were the Summer Games, not the winter sports we just watched).

On and on we traveled through time and space--18th-century French interior design, medieval French stained glass and precious reliquaries, 15th-century French illuminated manuscripts, 19th-century French painting (hmmm, I'm sensing an unintentional pattern here), plus all things Egyptian, Arms and Armor, of course, a few American landscapes, and the Chinese courtyard, sketching much of it (and Mama sketched in her own book too, which was very gratifying for both of us--she enjoys it so much and I know she does). In front of Manet's Mme V . . . in the Costume of an Espada (c. 1862; image here), Bud and Sis, who immediately identified her as a woman (androgynous or even butch women not being surprising in our family!), wanted to know why Manet liked people to dress up . . . and why for bullfighting? Was it Halloween? Across the gallery, at his A Lady in 1866 (image here), we identified the five senses explored in the painting--the orange for taste, the flowers for smell, the monocle for sight, the bird for hearing, the robe for touch. Sis much more interested in Courbet's images of hunting, complete with dead rabbits, which sent Mama into paroxysms of explanation until I said he was just showing off how well he could paint all manner of animals, people, and landscapes (hey, it doesn't have to be scholarly art history when you're talking to preschoolers, the point is to look!).

Perhaps the most difficult conversation, though, came after a quick tour through the Tres Belles Heures exhibition of Limbourg Brother illuminations for the Duc de Berrry, where they most enjoyed watching the video on how parchment was first made and then decorated (probably only because all the vitrines were too high for them to see the miniature paintings and all the magnifying glasses were taken). We were looking at the catalogues and Sis spotted a bleeding man being nailed to a cross and wanted to know what was going on. See, despite, or maybe because of, her love for baby Jesus, we had been delaying and avoiding telling her about what happens to grown-up Jesus. For her, Easter has been all about the bunnies. But she was persistent--who was that? why was he bleeding? what was going on? Mama tried to distract and relocate us to no avail. So I told Sis what was going on: baby Jesus grows up and, because people didn't like what he was teaching, killed him (if my art history isn't scholarly, my theology is even less so). What was he teaching? Actually, it's kinda what we learn in church--value all people--but that wasn't very popular with the rulers. By then, Bud was done and didn't want to hear anything else about blood or crucifixions, even trying to close the book, but Sis continued and so I told her that he died and people believe he came back to life. On Easter. And then, she figured it all out, in all seriousness: "Mom, that's because he came back as the Easter Bunny." Ah, such is the theology of the Unitarian Universalists!

Lunch at the museum was, as usual, a highlight because the kids get their meals in cardboard yellow taxi cabs. Bud was thrilled with his pasta and apple. Sis chose a hot dog and potato chips. But halfway through lunch, she decided she'd rather have the apple. And Mama found her saying the impossible, one of those crazy-mom things you say before you hear yourself, "No, I'm not getting you an apple. You have to eat those potato chips." I promptly got up and bought the girl an apple. Mama was suffering a touch of museum fatigue, I think.

We left the museum midday, with two tired children clutching battering rams they'd bought in the shop to knock down their block castles and knights at home. And as we drove north to head out of Manhattan, Mama and I became nostalgic for our time in the city pre-children. It was just the kind of day that anyone would head outside and enjoy the street culture of the city, something we just didn't get to do anymore. With kids in the backseat, driving away from all those city dwellers exploring their city, what used to be my city, I felt more constrained, hemmed in by parenthood than I have in a long while. I wanted to walk those streets, see those sights, do what we used to do, without four little legs in tow. Sure, we take the kids into town and I love showing them the city, but it's just not the same.

And then we hit on an improbable solution: let's head up to Columbia and, if we can find street parking, we'll get out, wander around, get a snack. Right. Street parking. In Morningside Heights on a glorious day. But there it was: an easy corner spot right on Broadway and 113th. The family parking gods were smiling down on us (we're convinced that Gong has special parking luck). The kids were nonplussed and wanted to go home, but we promised food and so they got out of the car without much whining. We started with the Columbia bookstore, though, so Mama could buy a sweatshirt, maybe get something for the kids (though, there was alas nothing in anything like their size). This visit to campus was for her tinged with much sadness because of the loss of her friend earlier this week; it was, however, a fitting reminder and memorial. While she was shopping the kids and I rode the elevators. This ended abruptly when I got separated from them by two other shoppers and Sis took that opportunity, for the first time ever, to fall down the escalator steps. Poor thing. Shamed me. She was fine. I was fine. I think the other couple was appalled.

We headed to Butler Library, one of the two large, impressive buildings facing each other on the main campus. It's where Mama and I met outside one morning when we both worked there--she asked a co-worker to introduce us (and the rest, shall we say, is history! Especially because there is no sense boring four-year olds with how she pursued me for years until I turned around and gave chase later!). We kissed there and then and Sis, who is sometimes 4 1/2 going on 12, said, "Oh, Mom!" We also headed into the library, securing our alumnae access to take them up into the stacks, which smell exactly the same as they did almost 20 years ago (it was palpable, that smell-memory hitting us both in the face at the same time. Ah, what fun we had in the stacks!)

It was time for pizza.

Mama often waxes nostalgic, poetic even, about her late-night dining forays while an undergraduate--4 a.m. breakfasts at random diners with friends, sneaking food into the library or computer lab for all-nighters, fast Chinese at Olllie's or Columbia Cottage (never Dynasty, or in collegiate parlance, "Die-nasty"), the jumbo slice at Koronet. And so that's where we headed, where the pizza is bigger than Bud's head. And he loved it. But not as much as Mama! Sis daintily ate her crust and reminded us that we'd promised her cake. Indeed, we had, so we headed around the corner towards the Hungarian Cafe, a coffee and pastry shop on Amsterdam Ave.

But before that, we noticed that the Cathedral of St. John the Divine was still open and so we headed in there to show the kids the largest Gothic-styled cathedral on this side of the Atlantic. And one on which their cousin the monk once worked on the sculpture. The exhaustion of several hours of walking wore off in the luminescent, rainbow light of the rose window glowing in the late-day sun. I know they have never seen anything like it. I've seen it several times, here and a few other places (though, my experience of actual Gothic cathedrals is relatively limited), and it still never ceases to touch me. Mama said she'd never seen it glow quite like that. And so we explored, making the full pilgrimmage up the aisles, through the transept, around the chapels in the ambulatory apse, with a peek at the choir stalls, and back down the nave. They marveled at the columns, the arches, the windows, the decorations, the finished and unfinished stone (the Cathedral ran out of money 100+ years ago and was never finished, which is part of its majesty). Sis started to noticed the Jesuses, both baby and grown-up, and so I explained that this was a Christian church, meaning they believe Jesus Christ (his last name! Help me . . . I was not meant to have to explain Christianity. If I remember correctly "Christ" was an honorific??) was very special, while in our church we believe he was important like a lot of other teachers such as Buddha, Mohammed, and other spiritual traditions. Nothing was said about the Easter Bunny. Bud was much more concerned with the possibility of being locked in and forgotten, since we thought it was near closing time (Mama said she had this kind of fear many times as a child. Being a fan of From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, I think I would have welcomed the opportunity).

So, we finally headed out to the Hungarian Cafe, where Sis chose some plain chocolate-leaf cookies, Bud got a strawberry cake (mainly sponge cake with vaguely pink whipped cream and strawberries on top). I got a huge chocolate-mousse confection with chocolate sponge and ganache called a Rigo Lanci (which I used to eat there eons ago) and a mooshy-gooshy alcoholic rum ball with almonds (which filling seemed like a mix of sponge cake and mousse and lots and lots of rum!), as well as an Hungarian coffee, with almond extract, cinnamon, and whipped cream. Mama got a soothing steamed milk with honey. We sat eating at tables on the sidewalk overlooking the cathedral and the park with the giant sculpture until it was time, it being after 5 pm!!, to head home.

What a glorious spring day! What a wonderful reminder of good times and good friends in the city. And the building of even more good memories of the city with our kids . . . .

Meet Me at the Met

We took the kids to the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Saturday, a last-minute (well, the night before) decision to so something extra special for the weekend. There were several exhibitions that I had wanted to see with the number of free weekends to do so dwindling rapidly. And so we went first thing in the morning to be sure to catch the children's program before we saw everything else.

We arrived early enough to catch Vermeer's The Milkmaid before the program started, knowing the show would be packed later. And it was already crowded, but only at The Milkmaid. Because savvy New Yorkers and museum-goers knew that all the other paintings were from the Met's permanent collection and usually on view. Even after all these years, I'm just amazed how reproductions, as advanced as they are, fail to capture, to borrow a phrase, the aura of a work of art. The colors are just wrong everywhere I've seen this painting reproduced. And it is glorious in person--the blue of her skirt, the dotted brushstrokes creating the bread and the basket, the clever single nail on the wall referencing the scene as a work of art. Sis liked the milk jug but insisted she was pouring gravy on bread, not milk. We even got to see a 17th-century jug in the Met's collection. Bud was more worried about missing the program and so we headed back to the education center.

The children's programs, Start with Art, usually includes a story, discussion of one or more works of art, and a sketching project--a fairly standard structure for children's programs. We had been before and liked the experience, so much so that Sis remembered Georgia O'Keeffe by name, but this particular session was not even mediocre. Basically, the two objects chosen were great but the connections the educator was trying to make--you can count things in these pieces!!--was forced, contrived, and, well, really lame, even for preschoolers. But the kids liked looking at Brueghel's (choose your favorite spelling of his name--the Met has 2 on one page!) Harvesters and finding some of the details, including the birds (count them!) and the moon. Then the were asked to sketch their favorite parts (which is a pretty advanced and daunting task). Bud drew the "teepees" (can you see them?) and Sis focused on the reclining man under the tree; both included the moon. Can you find it? (hint: no it's not dirt on your computer, it's that tiny blue dot in the upper left corner)

Next, as a family, we headed to see American Stories, which examines genre and other paintings about America and Americans. The first room alone was worth the exhibition, full of iconic water images, from Copley's Watson and the Shark to Homer's Gulf Stream plus Eakins and Bingham. Bud was entranced by the sharks, standing in front of the Copley repeatedly asking about the painting for more than 10 minutes. "Why is he in the water? Is the shark going to eat him? Will the people save him?" Good news: the man comes out of it alive, though loses a leg (it's based on a true story). Which I told Bud over and over but something about the painting wouldn't let him go. He even bought the postcard, which now sits in his special treasure box. And Sis's favorite painting in this show? A scene of a bear and hunter in mortal combat. And Mama preferred a Civil War-era image of a husband and wife saying goodbye. Such cheerful images my family likes.

After lunch and a much needed break, we saw the following:

Paintings by Watteau, which for me lost some of their power when grouped altogether;

Chinese musical instruments, including a video of people playing a variety of the unique instruments which enthralled the kids;

and last but not least, an exhibition of the armor of the Samurai, including several

suits of armor, fantastic helmets (though Sis's favorite, of a crouching rabbit, was in the permanent collection display), and those majestic swords. Oddly, they liked watching the video of how the blades are forged and sat through it mesmerized 3 different times. Maybe because they were finally sitting!

But if you asked them what their all-time favorites were, they'd say the two statues at the beginning of this blog: Canova's Perseus and Guidi's Andromeda in Chains. We stood in front of these statues for what seemed like ages. And then went back again later! They were at first fascinated with Andromeda--was she a mermaid? what is that sea creature doing? why is she in chains? And so I told the story, using the nearby Perseus nearby as an illustration. And so we went over there--why is he naked? what's he doing with that head? why does that lady have snake hair? hey, why is he naked? did we talk about why is he naked?

Yep, "privates." Love those private parts in works of art. I gave my little speech again about how artists like to show the human body, how it's something we all have in common, how is often considered the most beautiful thing to depict. And they get that, in their way. But still, it's fascinating to see a bigger-than-life-size penis and some breasts on high. Sis, our budding feminist, though, objected to the different treatment of men and women, wondering when she was ever going to see a woman's vagina just like hers--why did they always cover it up? I'm going to have to make sure that all the privates get equal time on our next visit. I can just see it, "Mommy's 'Private' Tour of the Metropolitan Museum of Art!" Ah, the dangers of being a mommy museum educator.

There were other highlights: peering in the scansions to see them setting up the creche and the Christmas tree; wandering around the roof garden with its huge metal sculpture Maelstrom; seeing the mother-in-law of a friend and colleague of mine as she gave a tour at the museum; marveling, again, at the "building inside a building" Temple of Dendur; the arms and armor display. Eating lunch in the cafeteria and also shopping for souvenirs also always rank high. There were only two downsides--a very rude mom in the cafeteria who ran over Bud and then blamed him for almost spilling her lunch (we actually "knew" her from the tour and also our last trip to the museum; she's a piece of work) and then the awful mess they've made of the American Sculpture Court, which now looks like a big train station terminal with art and a huge cafeteria--they must need the space for rental and concessions revenue, otherwise why mess it up? But, in the end, those didn't tarnish our wonderful, full, exhausting, exhilarating day. I'm sure we'll be going again soon--want to come?