Sunday, April 29, 2018
Child's Play
I went to the park with my sister and her family this morning. This was, of course, a three hour process. When I arrived, they were still in the staging process, which involves a lot of bargaining and bribery. It takes approximately as long to get these children in clothes as I imagine it takes Reba McEntire to get through hair and makeup. My nephew told me that there was a tickle monster in the house, though I saw no sign of Harvey Weinstein anywhere. Then he told me my sister was the tickle monster. Then he told me he himself was the tickle monster. I'm not totally sure where he was going with this, but I'm guessing we're supposed to conclude there's a little bit of tickle monster in all of us?
Anyway, once we got out the door, we had to walk to the park, except that my nephew decided he wanted to be carried. And he's thirty-seven pounds now, so I made it about two blocks. Then he kept dashing ahead of us, always towards traffic of course, such that I had to run and scoop him up. Finally, he decided to lie face down on the sidewalk to protest the fact that we wouldn't let him kick his soccer ball at random passersby. I felt as though we were on the Oregon Trail, or at least the Apple IIe version where everyone keeps getting cholera and dying.
We did eventually make it to the park, where Jack immediately zeroed in on the most dangerous, age-inappropriate play equipment he could find. We met my friend Liz and her family there, so we could have three children attempting to harm themselves. (Well, two. My niece is just two months, so mainly she just sleeps and screams at people, sort of the way I imagine Liza Minnelli's house.) There were bubbles, and there were snacks, so I'd say it was a highly successful event. Though I don't know, of course; I don't get invited to a wide range of toddler socials.
I went to the park with my sister and her family this morning. This was, of course, a three hour process. When I arrived, they were still in the staging process, which involves a lot of bargaining and bribery. It takes approximately as long to get these children in clothes as I imagine it takes Reba McEntire to get through hair and makeup. My nephew told me that there was a tickle monster in the house, though I saw no sign of Harvey Weinstein anywhere. Then he told me my sister was the tickle monster. Then he told me he himself was the tickle monster. I'm not totally sure where he was going with this, but I'm guessing we're supposed to conclude there's a little bit of tickle monster in all of us?
Anyway, once we got out the door, we had to walk to the park, except that my nephew decided he wanted to be carried. And he's thirty-seven pounds now, so I made it about two blocks. Then he kept dashing ahead of us, always towards traffic of course, such that I had to run and scoop him up. Finally, he decided to lie face down on the sidewalk to protest the fact that we wouldn't let him kick his soccer ball at random passersby. I felt as though we were on the Oregon Trail, or at least the Apple IIe version where everyone keeps getting cholera and dying.
We did eventually make it to the park, where Jack immediately zeroed in on the most dangerous, age-inappropriate play equipment he could find. We met my friend Liz and her family there, so we could have three children attempting to harm themselves. (Well, two. My niece is just two months, so mainly she just sleeps and screams at people, sort of the way I imagine Liza Minnelli's house.) There were bubbles, and there were snacks, so I'd say it was a highly successful event. Though I don't know, of course; I don't get invited to a wide range of toddler socials.
Saturday, April 21, 2018
What He's Written Will Be A Window Into His Madness
As Chicago wraps up its fifth straight month of winter, it's just barely possible I'm losing my mind a little bit. I find myself fantasizing about building a big old bonfire out of my sweaters, and I'm way too excited thinking about the day I can finally uncover all of the roof furniture and, you know, sit outside. Also, my mood swings precipitously based on whether the sun is out or not; one cloudy day last week I may or may not have been on the verge of tears because my email folders were acting weird. Life can be a series of horrific setbacks, you know?
I am feeling good about a few things, however. Beyoncé at Coachella was every bit as great as advertised, even I did have to enlist Trump's Russian election team to find it online. I'm also enjoying Janelle Monae's slow rollout of both her new album and her lesbianism; I do feel that the grapefruit is an underused symbol for a vagina. Oh, and Westworld comes back tomorrow night, so I have a good ten weeks of obsessing and internet sleuthing to look forward to. And, if history is any indication, a lot of gratuitous nudity.
Saturday, April 07, 2018
Picture Pages
This is the castle in Bratislava. They've done a nice job fixing it up, though I can't help but wonder what Tarek & Christina from Flip or Flop could have done with it. It's just crying out for some laminate flooring.
This is the grand staircase in the castle. It is actually pretty grand. I mean, not grand enough to make a person actually want to climb stairs or anything, but somehow they haven't gotten around to installing a chair lift.
In Vienna we visited this amazing house that was built by the famous architect Otto Wagner and then rehabbed by the artist Ernst Fuchs. There were mosaics everywhere, though oddly no kitchen that I ever saw. Maybe the original owner was undead and felt no need to eat.
What, do you NOT have a gilded statute of a naked lady on your front porch? I'm actually kind of embarrassed for you.
We also went to the Museum of Illusions in Vienna, which is basically designed as a place to take Instagram photos. Your move, Guggenheim.
This is supposed to look like Ian is tiny or sitting in a giant chair, but it looks more like someone put the chair together wrong. User error.
I loved this sign from the Klimt villa, presumably not created by Klimt himself. Certainly no one would want to risk attack by a square dog.
These signs on the subway are also kind of great. I especially like that the man holding the child has a kicky little moustache and soulpatch. I imagine something like the plot of Three Men and a Baby.
I thought I'd share just a few pictures from my trip, primarily because it's easier than thinking of something else to write about. So lucky you.
This is the castle in Bratislava. They've done a nice job fixing it up, though I can't help but wonder what Tarek & Christina from Flip or Flop could have done with it. It's just crying out for some laminate flooring.
This is the grand staircase in the castle. It is actually pretty grand. I mean, not grand enough to make a person actually want to climb stairs or anything, but somehow they haven't gotten around to installing a chair lift.
In Vienna we visited this amazing house that was built by the famous architect Otto Wagner and then rehabbed by the artist Ernst Fuchs. There were mosaics everywhere, though oddly no kitchen that I ever saw. Maybe the original owner was undead and felt no need to eat.
What, do you NOT have a gilded statute of a naked lady on your front porch? I'm actually kind of embarrassed for you.
We also went to the Museum of Illusions in Vienna, which is basically designed as a place to take Instagram photos. Your move, Guggenheim.
This is supposed to look like Ian is tiny or sitting in a giant chair, but it looks more like someone put the chair together wrong. User error.
I loved this sign from the Klimt villa, presumably not created by Klimt himself. Certainly no one would want to risk attack by a square dog.
