As a mother I occasionally have a yen to throw something a little different at The Codefendants and see what pans out. Most times we’re all pleasantly surprised and wind up feeling a little smug and worldly as if to say well, we never had any doubts. Piece a cake, baby!
Unless it’s food. Generally speaking, if it’s food what pans out is vomit. Here’s a tip for ya: NEVER FORCE A CHILD TO EAT BROCCOLI UNLESS YOU’RE COMMITTED TO CLEANING IT UP.
Where was I?
So, school’s out for summer (any Alice Cooper fans out there?) and they’re already bored. Fortunately, His Awesomeness’ boredom is somewhat alleviated by a little thing called a job. Sonic slush, anyone?
Which leaves The Diva.
She’s already made homemade slime. Think snot, only purple. She gave me a makeover because, at forty-three, I have no idea how to apply makeup. She fussed over my lack of appropriate brushes and primer (isn’t that for walls?) and bemoaned my crepey eyelids and orange-ish complexion a la The Donald.
And then there’s that mecca for all brainiacs…the library. 📚. It’s the summer of the biography in our house and she’s already devoured tomes on CS Lewis, Audrey Hepburn, Henry VIII’s six wives, and Mickey Mantle while I’m over here speed reading through raunchy romance novels.
Not to cast aspersions on our town, but there isn’t much to do here. Which means you have to drive. And hope that what awaits at the end doesn’t require funds from a body part you sold or a bathing suit.
Dallas, here we come.
We finally arrive, after driving the I-35 corridor at 50 mph most of the way, at the Dallas Museum of Art.
We’d been there maybe thirty minutes when I realized The Diva was extraordinarily quiet and I looked over to find her stone faced, responding to my questions with one word answers. Are you okay? Fine. Are you sick? No. What’s the matter? Nothing.
Sensing a mood swing of epic proportions and not wanting either of us to lose our shit in what was essentially a mausoleum for old, really expensive stuff, I was trying to think fast. And quietly.
Light bulb 💡
Are you overwhelmed?
I got a look that was part relief and part duh 🙄 and after giving ourselves permission to skip the stuff that made us check each other for a pulse, we more or less hustled ourselves through the remainder of the early American section and most of Africa. I’m pretty sure there was plenty of other stuff to see, but most of it was a blur interspersed with me asking myself what is THAT and what does it MEAN?
Forgive me for being a philistine, but I don’t get art at all. To me, it’s like attending car shows with Himself. A car’s either pretty or ugly and sounds good. End of story.
With art, I stand there, head cocked like an eager spaniel and hope I don’t scratch or widdle on the floor.
Like this 👇🏻. It’s cool and it’d look great as a quilt, but 🤷♀️
This (by Leon Frederic) 👇🏻I get, but the gratuitous display of breast unsettled The Diva. Do we really need to see that? she intoned. Beats me, but it’s just so beautiful and nurturing and hey, I get it!
Anyway, we’d made it down to the lower level with all the sculpture. My favorite! It never ceases to amaze me how ancient dudes got the drape of fabric, the curl of a lock of hair, the detail just so from rock.
How did they do that?! Genius.
I’m marveling at it all when I hear a huge sigh, one generally reserved for a climactic final cinematic breath and the words every mother wants to hear uttered aloud in what was a fairly crowded room.
Another penis. What is it with all these penises?!
I was stuck somewhere between wanting to be zapped by lightning on the spot, hoping for a huge sinkhole to open beneath me and making that ugly braying donkey laugh I generate when I’m really amused and trying not to be. Nevertheless, I had some splainin’ to do. She didn’t believe me about the ancients’ love of the human form and isn’t it beautiful, etc, etc. All she saw was nekkid men. I’ll admit to never understanding the ancient use of urine to bleach items or grabbing ones testicles as a attestation of ones truthfulness (hence the word testimony) but whatever. Naked people look good, even the fat ones and can we please bring back the appreciation of such from Rubens?! Can I get a hallelujah?
Maybe I should just stick to getting my culture from yogurt.