Yesterday, I had an unfortunately (for our bank account) awesome (for all things non-bank account related) morning at the Hallmark Ornament premier. I wore my Animal tee shirt because I was going for one ornament. As much as Suzie Orman terrifies me, if she came to get me, I would plead my case. I love him. I needed him. NEEDED HIM. He goes with my other Muppets on my bookshelf. They have sound. I regret nothing. The fact that I left with, well, more than one ornament... Stay in my nightmares, Ms. Orman!
I followed that up with a trip to the grocery store, which helped to quell some of my guilt (I'm a good wife! I cook for my husband! Right?). We'd talked for the past couple days about going to a non-profit center for wolves but we found out that you had to call during the week before you could show up for the public tour. Wish the website actually listed this with all the tour information. They tell you all about the wolf puppies and coming to see them but they leave that part out. Argh. We figured we'd try to do something another weekend. Plus, we'd just seen a movie, and although that isn't out of our norm, it still counts.
When I got home from my errands, my husband, out of the blue, asked if I would like to go to the St. Louis Art Museum. And so we did!
If we'd researched it, we might have realized that the place is under major construction. I don't have the greatest memory anyway but the hubby assured me that everything looked completely different. Plus, a lot of stuff wasn't out to see due to the remodeling. That will be done in 2012. I guess at least we didn't know that the main draw would end up being the gift shop (again, bad for the bank account).
We had a nice, air conditioned date walking from one room to another. The first thing we saw was this cat. The hubby, he just can't get away from the felines. Even inanimate ones. And yes, the title of this piece was "Cat".
We then saw the rooms upon rooms of stuff I continued to swear I could find in my grandmother's boxes labeled "Old Crap". Other similar boxes may be labeled "Fragiles". Figurines and dishes upon dishes upon dishes. Some of my powdered-wig type white porcelain little men and ladies with their dusty rose and country blue painted embellishments may not have all their limbs now, but they are in the damn basement. Non-matched china? I put my chin up in your general direction. I know you, Non-matched China. We are well acquainted.
Then, we got into the furniture. I heart this chair (in its ugliness, I can only love more). Sweet Jesus. I mean pansies. Or poppies. Sweet small pretty colored flowers. Why sit on the floor when you could sit 3 inches up off of it? The ground is for peasants! See how high up I am? Pssst.
I apologize for the fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants dating attire. Someone was still on a Hallmark high.
I wasn't high enough to miss this next piece of art. Carpet. Carpet as art. It was in a room furnished in antiques that you could walk 2 feet into and look at over a very elaborate railing. Thank goodness! I wanted to roll in it! But, like a Picasso, you mustn't touch. Respect the art!
Last time we went to this museum ( which was about 5 years ago), I was so impressed by the paintings. The architecture. The beauty. I kept exclaiming, "I can't believe this is a free museum!"
This time, I was not so surprised. "This is a free museum" did repeat in my mind, though. Several times.
One of those times was when we stumbled upon this piece of furniture art. DIYers with no experience, get ready! I am pretty sure this is what would happen if I attempted to make a dresser. I would be angry about it (and at it) before, during, and after construction. How nice that a museum would take it off someone's hands! So I don't have to walk by it everyday and kick it. Then swear about how this piece continues to pain me.
I again had some sort of attack when I came to this next one. You could say I had a "Where's Waldo" moment with this fireplace screen. Several moments, actually.
This was followed by me getting really excited and yelling in a museum, "I see the dragon! It's a dragon!" I then read the title of this piece. Salamander. Son of a... Grrrr. *Pulls hair out with own hands.
There were also mummies.
My husband just said, "Those were over 4000 years old, Baby!" in a very excited tone. Because I had to turn to him just now and rehash our conversation from the museum. My problem with these incredible pieces of real history was that the mummies were in their coffins, each encased in a large glass case, BUT THE COFFINS WERE ALL BROKEN AND STUFF. So you could see (gulp)... I'm breathing in, breathing out... Deep breaths...
YOU COULD SEE PARTS OF THEM. We spent a good 5 minutes in there with me repeating "But that's not them in there, right? I mean, that's not his actual foot, right? I'm not actually looking at the exposed foot of the guy."
My husband won't stop telling me as I am writing this that those were, "100% authentic, honest to goodness, real, live mummies!" I am still having trouble with this (although not enough trouble to not tease him about the "live" part). I did not take a picture. Because the memory alone gives me oh so much.
The mummies room led to a cool exhibit. As in, one that didn't give me goose-flesh all over. There were all kinds of weapons and knight's armour and medieval goodies. No dead things sticking out of those. I don't think I'll turn and ask my husband if any of the armour still had knight parts inside. This is where I found the name of a knight that if by some rampant, belligerent, and miraculous act of God we get to name a child, we have that little monster covered.
I dig it. I wasn't ready for the name that awaited me in the next case of armour. The world record for worst name ever, could it be next to our lil Wilhelm Pumpkin-kins?
"Possibly French".
Oh yeah.
Or does it just need some time to simmer in the brain before the mind realizes how perfect this would be for child numero dos? See how I'm mixing all these different cultures and sh*t? You're welcome.
Finally, we hit the gift shop completely by accident. The husband found a puzzle that he thought was "awesome" (and since I had mentioned this idea earlier as a stay-at-home date option, I jumped on it, despite how bizarre this puzzle was). I then found an arty shirt that I loved. The 2 frightening cashier ladies (older, stern stone faces, eyes like those in a haunted mansion painting that follow you) suddenly came to life when I touched it on the display. They made a dressing room appear right in front of me (the wall, it opens!). I tried the shirt on, and it was too big!
As much as any girl loves to find something she loves, is it not even better when said thing is too big? That means I am too small. This translated into my mind as "I definitely can make that chocolate cake with the cheesecake inside of it for my birthday now!"
They had one shirt in a different design that was in my size. I kinda loved that, too, so we ended up with our souvenirs. You'll know the shirt when I wear it on a future date. My boobs, they are the sky!
So our spontaneous streak starts! And possibly ends!
I wonder how our puzzle date will go. I wonder how easily I'll get frustrated. It is 1000 pieces. Just wait until you see the picture... Lord. It almost makes me think they make puzzles hard on purpose! What the what!
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