Vintage Drums and Dates

Biceps is the best husband ever. Hands down. Bar none. Don’t argue with me. He’s been that way for the entirety of our almost 13 years of marriage. I married up, and most of my family wouldn’t contradict that point. They know I’m right. With all of that said, Biceps is also a very focused man.

With baby #1 on the way, he has taken to a “nose-to-the-grindstone” mentality with work, school and providing for our family. The man never rests. Except from 11 pm to 5 am. Then–he’s out like a light and no amount of kitty wrestling, house alarms sounding or excessive use of the bathroom by yours truly (thanks Baby G) will wake him.

We’ve been needing a little getaway before Baby G pops out into the world. However, I knew pulling Biceps away from his focus would be difficult.

Enter a craigslist for sale ad for Vintage Ludwig Vistalite Drums in a city just two hours away. As a wife, I just hit the jackpot.

Nothing motivates a musician more than the drums they’ve always dreamed about. Within hours, Biceps had found and secured a night at a Norman Bed and Breakfast.

This beautiful little house was very affordable, it was all ours (no weird interaction with the owners or other guests), and stocked with yummy snacks.

The best part was-they did not decorate with dolls, doilies or victorian pictures. Thank goodness.

If the weather hadn’t been so stinkin’ freezing cold, we would have used the hammock, the hot tub and the fire pit provided. Instead, we looked at it longingly from the safety and heated security of the inside-while eating cookies.

Biceps actually relaxed from his overwhelming schedule and donned a robe and house shoes. He sat for hours looking at old pictures with me and talking about our future with Baby G.

Biceps bought his drums and we got our inexpensive, much-needed getaway. Take note ladies-if you are needing a getaway with your special man-pray that God prompts your hubby to look one more time at craigslist. And then pack a bag.

Sassy Pants Art: Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art

I have been uber bogged down with obligations. (Blech.) Life tends to get in the way of my passions-and one of my passions is this blog/site, while another is observing amazing art.

Enough is enough. Time for some fun-and time to observe life/art in a new way-a sassy way.

Hey, “Eyebrows”. I mean…seriously. Even back then they had scissors and ways to bleach hair. Do something about it.

“A ticked-off cat”. I know this. I feel this. I’ve seen this. Life is art.

Mr. Abs: “Yes, I do Paleo. Yes, I do Crossfit. Yes, I wear coolouts. Yes, I shave my head into a weird pony tail. Why do you ask?”
Me: “Um. No reason at all. You look…awesome?”

Lady on the left: “Don’t pretend you were ‘caught’ in this pose. Get some friggin’ clothes on.”
Lady on the right: “All I could find was this 1200 thread count Egyptian cotton sheet. Geesh. Don’t be such a prude. I’m just as God made me.”

Oh! That’s where I left it! My trusty old, Indiana Jones backpack. I was hankering for my PB & J, my orange and thermos of milk…

That’s all the sass I will expose you to today. And, since I’ve deprived you for almost a week of my sass-I hope you can handle it.

Am I the only one that ever feels this way in an art museum?

Sunday Culture and a little weirdness

Ah…Kansas City-you have done it again. You successfully avoided being named both “Possum Trot” and “Rabbitville”, progressed past just being a cow town and into a cultural mecca. However, I can still wear cowboy boots and not be judged (hint, hint New York).

I cannot deny my love for you.

I shucked my heels and wore sensible flats this time, knowing I would be at the Nelson-Atkins Museum forever. My first stop-this lovely Eames chair. Can a chair be more pure, more beautiful, more simple? Sure, you could have some fancy throne covered in lambs wool and overstuffed to the gills. And you may argue that it is indeed more comfortable. And, you might be right.

But, I would still choose this chair every time.

Turning the corner, I ran smack dab into this Jackson Pollock painting. Be still my coffee-beating heart. I have loved this artist since my first encounter with his work and have not lost my affection yet.

I see a wolf and a lady. What do you see?

This painting had my attention for a solid 15 minutes. The vibrant colors were gorgeous and the darkening sky was beautifully ominous. Some amazingly talented human, with only a brush and some oil paint created this on a white canvas.

I’m happy if I can draw a straight line.

This Subodh Gupta Egg was made exclusively of silver utensils and objects-and signifies the new India.

For some unknown reason, I was drawn to it. I’m a girl. I like shiny things.

I call this one, “Fancy Peas”. It was untitled, so I took liberties with it. Hope that’s alright with Mr. Alexander Ross. (Mr. Ross, maybe you should name your pieces and morons like me wouldn’t take liberties.)

This, of course, reminded me of a cat-a Native American cat. Possibly of the KittenMeow tribe.
(Brad Kahlhamer: Bowery Nation)

I saved the best for last. This installation-“Chromoplastic Mural” by Luis Tomasello (who was 96 at the time) was bold and unique, and the perfect resting spot for my little feet.

The floor is an acceptable place to hang out in a museum, right?

The Sunflower State is Friggin’ Awesome

Dear Readers:

Did you know that I’m from Kansas? I mean, technically I’m from Landstuhl, Germany. But, do the first three years of your life really count?
And did you know that I’m in Kansas right now? Be still my beating heart.

Kansas is where I claim to have grown up. My childhood consisted of sunflower fields, cows, tornadoes, coyotes (pronounced ki-yoat) and snakes. And all that was found just in my backyard.

Due to my extreme nostalgia, it’s no small wonder that sunflowers are my favorite flowers-second only to daffodils. I would drag these ginormous yellow and brown beauties into the house, sending my extremely allergic brother to the brink of insanity. Sorry, Pat. I thought you were just being a wuss and trying to get out of work. We didn’t know about allergies back then.

Heck, I didn’t even know about salad dressing back then.

The only thing better than being in Kansas, is being in my hometown of Manhattan, Kansas at Vista. And eating french fries with my parents while the Beatles play on the jukebox. (But, that’s a whole other side story.)

However, I’m not in Manhattan-I’m in Kansas City, which is the fancy part of Kansas. Unlike Manhattan, Kansas City has museums, real shopping, “districts”, and a major league baseball team. As a little kid, I was always intimidated by Kansas City and thought the kids here were cooler than I was.

I bet they even knew about salad dressing.

I joined Biceps on a overnight work gig, so while he is hard at work, I’m going to go see things like this at the Nelson-Atkins Museum.

And things like this. All. By. Myself. I won’t have to hurry up when I want to stay, or linger when I want to move on.

Let’s review the facts about today:
I’m in Kansas
I’m going to a museum-alone!
Biceps is simultaneously making us money
My meals are paid for

The verdict is: Kansas is friggin’ awesome.