Overly Verbal

Somehow, I had never stepped foot in the National Portrait Gallery before Saturday, even though I have lived in the greater metropolitan DC area for three years (as of Sunday*). Suffice it to say that I’ve been missing what is clearly a national treasure. Remarkable, really (and not only because of the hip-hop exhibit). Basically, if I was going to design a museum, that’s just about exactly how I would do it. Very, very rarely do I look at something and think “I could not have done that any better,” and it is simply delightful when I do.

Actually, I’m sort of glad I’d never been before, because one of the most charming features of our national portrait gallery is an enclosed courtyard. I was relaxed nearly into a coma just wandering around the inside of the building, then went in search of fresh air only to wind up in one of the most lovely places I’ve been in quite a while – it was calm and still and quiet and filled with (at least two) very handsome people. (I was sort of ignoring everyone else – they might have been handsome too, probably were, if only because such a lovely place could not possibly hold non-lovely people, but I couldn’t tell you for sure.) And because my companion wondered aloud how long it had been enclosed, I had to look that fact up upon returning home, and it turns out it was November 18, 2007. If I had been before that I would not have been nearly so impressed, but I am a little disappointed that I could have been spending time there since November and just didn’t know it.

So Saturday the National Portrait Gallery, the weather in DC, my mood, and my companion somehow conspired to make my afternoon about as lovely as an afternoon can be. There are not nearly enough conspirators aiming to please me – I wish there were more.

However, I’ve been feeling really guilty lately about not practicing piano, really about not being creative in general, and hanging out in a portrait gallery for a while didn’t make me feel less guilty that I’m not creating anything lately. The only way I’ve been interacting with art, music, writing, etc. recently has been as a consumer, but I’m going to start fixing that. I think. Instead, I might just go sit in that courtyard every day after work for an hour and read a book. (As pleasant as it was on what was a supernaturally gorgeous day,*** I think it would be at least twice that pleasant when it was raining.)

Also, before the portraits, we visited the Muppets exhibit at the Smithsonian. You’d think that I would go on and on about that for days, instead of just saying that I got to see Bert and Ernie in person, and that was pretty keen, but I couldn’t take a picture of them, because they’re fragile. I don’t think anyone needs me to go on and on about Muppets, or see a picture of the actual Bert and Ernie, to appreciate that no human being had a greater impact on my childhood than Jim Henson. Except for Mr. Rogers, Dr. Spock, and Captain Kangaroo. And, well, okay, Laura Ingalls Wilder. And the consortium of people who wrote the Nancy Drew books. And fine, at least a dozen other authors too, but that doesn’t diminish what I’m trying to say, which is that Jim Henson was pretty darned creative, and I am not. And also that you should go see Bert and Ernie, but make sure to do it with an adult male who is prone to collapsing into unabashed giggles at the very thought of Beaker, because if there’s something more touching than watching small children giggle because they just can’t help themselves, it’s watching grown men do it.

Also, I have had a Cloud Cult song stuck in my head all day, but the only videos on YouTube are live performances, and it’s a song that is much better recorded: No One Said It Would Be Easy. I’m afraid that even their MySpace page doesn’t have a version you can listen to, so there’s no link. But you should just buy the album, because even the other songs on it are pretty damned good (if I was ever going to write a song, for example, I’d want it to have the lyrics “I like the way you touch me, it makes me feel like I have no skeleton”).

In other news, I had such a pleasant day at work today that I honestly feel like they could just not pay me at all, and I’d still go into the office. That’s weird, ain’t it?

Finally, you know how you go to the doctor, and they do some tests, and then they say, “We’re only going to call you if something’s abnormal. It’ll take about two weeks, so if you haven’t heard from us by then, you’re fine”? Two entire business days have passed since I believed the doctor to have all my test results, and I have not even considered calling them to make sure that they didn’t just accidentally forget to tell me I’m dying. It’s like I’ve been abducted and replaced by a more normal version of me. This too shall pass, I’m sure, but in the meantime, we can all worry just a little bit that I’m losing my edge. (I hope it returns before I start frightening people.)

On that note . . .
______
* I try to be articulate, think I mostly succeed,** but my only reaction to the fact that I have lived here three years is something pretty damned close to “WTF?” – sometimes words fail me.

** In spite of my (unfortunately well-chronicled) inability to describe things I really enjoy with a word other than “lovely”.

*** If anyone (and you know who you are) thinks he could phrase that better, have at it. But show your work.