… but PQ was on my route back to the metro from the Natural History Museum…
… whereUD failed to have anything like the spiritual experience she’s been having during her early morning visits to the National Gallery of Art, West Wing.
No surprise there: The art excites, room after room, the startle of beauty, which deepens into the shock of seeing …
Which in turn reveals the human all too human in flagrante.
********************************
And although longtime readers know UD has a thing for geology, even the most, well, aesthetic rocks
fail to … transport your blogeuse.(Granite, With Orbicular Structure, Virvik, Finland) Even the karayzzziest calcite
leaves something to be desired in the coulda knocked me over with a feather department.
**************************
The walk to the metro featured the much in the news office of the AG.
It was also instructive to pass the ugliest building in DC – the FBI.
The unplanted, stained planters. Fun burst of color from the traffic cone. Dead concrete wall, stage left; desperate flurry of flags stage right. Chain link fencing on the second floor is a nice touch, as is the uncompromising brutalism of absolutely everything. As soon as the FBI vacates (bet the people who work there can’t wait), we can look forward to the architectural finishing touch: demolition.
Not really a chorus; a very clear messaging system from tree to tree to tree.
They’re usually high up at some distance in our forest, but for the first time I heard one piercingly close call. Just one loud guttural repeated note; not the famous who cooks for you business.
“Too dark to see it,” said Mr UD as I grabbed my binoculars.
“I’ll try anyway,” said I, scanning nearby branches.
But it flew off, signaling with cooks for you and a whole bunch of other sounds that it was changing location.
And then — at least two other owls elsewhere in the woods answered this first one, with yet other songs.
Duh. The dude’s showing his age, and you bet we’re worried.
UD has no problem, btw, with Hur having spilled the already-opened beans. In fact she’s proud of the fact that we’re the sort of democracy where non-loyalists get appointed to important positions. That’s a good thing, mes petites.
1.) Let the guy out. Let him misspeak and trip on steps and let him laugh about this and acknowledge that though he’s doing a very good job running the country (“In the most challenging moments of his presidency, in supporting our allies when they are threatened and in steering the U.S. economy away from recession, Mr. Biden has been a wise and steady presence.”) he’s old and sometimes it shows.
2.) Send him to the Naval Medical Center (couple of miles from Les UDs) and get him an honest, legitimate cognitive workup. My guess is that he’ll do okay. Not real well, but well enough. Time to stop hiding.
She’s become addicted to the luxury/intensity of having the history of art to herself. She stays for an hour and a half or so, until other people dare to show up and share the goods.
I swear there’s almost no one there at ten AM on a cold weekday, so you just sashay about with an idiotic smile on your face as one unbelievable gallery after another beckons you. You hum Bach’s Cello #1 and the paintings hum back. Their lifeblood is bright red. They are right at you.
Even deathly pale their lifeblood is bright.
It’s you, the copyist, and the echoing halls.
Outside, UD takes heart from the writing on the side of the Archives.
Permanency. YES!
Although just in case I’m keeping a few of these pennies in my pocket.
Winner and Still Champeen. Visits to the Archives always bring tears to UD‘s eyes, despite a certain amount of scoffing from Mr UD. (“Do they have benches where you can kneel in front of the documents?” he asked on my return.)
Imagine this scene in the insanely crowded Uffizi! Impossibile.
I’ll have the same quality of art as the Uffizi, free of charge, with one after another gallery to myself, please.
All topped off with a Teaism chai, and ginger scones.
From the promotional literature for new assisted living apartments a mile away from Les UDs.
McCaffery and Solera Senior Living have partnered to co-develop The Modena Reserve at Kensington, a 135-unit luxury independent, assisted living and memory care community. Located in the high barrier to entrytown of Kensington, Maryland, and adjacent to the historic Kensington train station offering direct access to Washington D.C….
2. UD had a consult this morning with a pulmonologist. Faithful readers know UD has episodic bronchitis. She hasn’t had any trouble for months, but she decided as a precaution to talk to a specialist. Here’s a bit of conversation from him.
When I joined this practice ten years ago, I thought the partners wanted me because of my impressive education. Harvard College, Hopkins med school, Harvard internships… But when I made partner they told me ‘Franklin, we hired you to be our shabbos goy.‘
The sun throngs her window (I stole “throngs” from Philip Larkin); her wee nuclear family sits directly to her left on the train. Extended family insists on living in Boston, so the Polish-ish Christmas must happen there.
You know if you read this blog that UD dislikes grubby old Boston, and slogging to that city in the dead of winter seems especially stupid. But.
I listen to Julia Lezhneva for much of the trip, which also features blueberry muffins and, this year, a book about India. After New Year’s in Venice, Les UDs fly to Rajasthan.
But after unveiling her National Portrait Gallery portrait, Oprah had dinner at the same place La Kid booked for her office Xmas gathering. So La Kid gazed at her a lot.