Quiet time

I've been neglecting this blog as of late, mostly because I can't get out of my own way when it comes to my writing. I think about what I want to write, then I think about how it sounds, then I think about what the three people who actually read this will think. And then I'm stuck.

Sooooooooo...doing my best to forget the audience is the new plan.

On Friday I took the subway in to the MFA for my second visit to the new wing. I met my friend H there and we made our way through painting after painting of pink-cheeked, small-nosed crackahs that look a whole lot like our friend A. A is descended from Mayflower riders on one side, and the Dutch who settled New York on the other. Man is that gene pool strong.

After a disappointing lunch of brown salad and dry cheese at the new cafe, H and I retired to the basement sampler room to chat. The museum was pretty empty, probably owing to it being a weekday in winter, and this made it feel like we were sitting in someone's living room. It was lovely. I especially liked being in a room filled with the works of women, whom I'm sure would have been very happy to see how far the fairer sex has come.

H had to leave early because she had a bad headache. After walking her out, I headed back down to the basement and sat under the beams of an ancient (for this part of the world) house and used the museum's free wifi to map out a walking route to Whole Paycheck, because I was all out of broccoli and oranges.