You know how it is…I stopped blogging for a week…and then I kept thinking, “I should really post something,” and I didn’t and I didn’t and then it got to be so long that I figured my next post had better be really really good after all that wait and so I kept putting it off until I had something really brilliant to say. And then I realized that thinking like that meant I’d never post anything again. So here I am with, admittedly, nothing brilliant to say.
Timothy and I went to his second basketball game on Sat. I love watching four-year-olds play basketball. They try to dribble and the ball lands on their foot and rolls, so they chase it and accidentally kick it and it rolls some more. By the third quarter (which I think are about 5-min each), half the team was lying on the court because they said they were tired. We have no idea who won, but Timothy made a basket so we count the game a success.
Then we headed to the Denver Art Museum. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that the next few years visiting art museums or exhibits are going to A) last 2 hours max, 2 1/2 hours if the place has a kid-friendly cafeteria; B) only be possible if the place has a decent kids’ area; and C) allow me to glance at one painting/sculpture/fossil/etc for about 45 seconds, on the way to the kids’ area where we will spend the remaining hour and 59:15 minutes, minus bathroom breaks. But in the rushing by of paintings and sculptures at the DAM, it looked like a great place. They had a whole wing of Western art — cowboys roping steers and bears and other manly things. Who painted those men? Other cowboys? Who had time in the 1800s, out on the prairies, to be painting? I like the idea of cowboys painting. I hope that’s what happened. The museum is supposed to have a good collection of modern art also, but I’m a terrible judge of that. Call me a plebeian but I don’t get the beauty in a giant red dot on a blank canvas. I’m sure it says something profound about the state of man but I’d rather see a man ride his hoss into the sunset.
Today was gorgeous. We played outside for the first time in a while…Chris washed both our cars…we went on a good walk. It was practically like being in California, except for the drip drip dripping of the melting snow. The weatherman at Chris’s station says it will be well into April before the snow’s all gone but there were rivers running down the street from all the melting today.
I must go now and mop my floor while watching “The New Adventures of Old Christine.” It’s my guilty pleasure. It’s what I do on Monday nights. Don’t you judge me.
