30 January 2006

Must be the year of Cezanne.

I'm looking forward to the Cezanne show at the National Gallery. The day we went out to California, we visited the LA County Museum of Art (henceforth known as LACMA), where they were holding a great Cezanne and Pissarro show. I didn't understand before how closely linked those two artists' careers were, allowing museums a century later to display each painter's take on the same landscape side by side.

Other than the Cezanne/Pissarro show (and a small but intriguing exhibition on Gajin Fujita and Pablo Vargas Lugo -- esp. the Fujita stuff), LACMA was LAC-luster. Holy shit, I crack myself up. You realize how spoiled you are in DC for the free access to some incredible art collections. LACMA's permanent collection is either miniscule or hidden largely in storage; their gift shop prices in large part make the National Gallery look like TJ Maxx. Still, I took a few pictures (photos not allowed in exhibitions -- only permanent collections).


I love Lichtenstein. It's too bad DC has very little of his stuff, comparatively speaking.



They had a few works by Rivera, this one being the most impressive. They have it showcased by being at the end of a long hallway that you walk down to enter their Latin American Art galleries.

26 January 2006

Quick Hit: Street Scene in Santa Barbara

So we were outside a Borders on State Street (if you've never been to Santa Barbara, State Street is the equivalent of M St./Wisconsin Ave in G-town or any other corporatized somewhat upscale urban shopping area -- but State Street is much longer and more eclectic than G-Town), and a live band was performing in front of the store. A crowd had gathered to watch, including this fashion victim:


Now I generally don't do fashion commentary, as my favorite color is gray, but this getup begs for close reading.

First there's the "skirt that looks halfway like an apron over jeans" that I saw more than once on the streets of Santa Barbara. I'm guessing it's some sort of fusion hippie chic. Except you look like you're on your way to your shift at Papa John's.

Then you have the checkered top. It's hard to tell from the pic, but this is thick, like business attire -- the kind of thing you'd wear with nice slacks if you were a receptionist at an upscale dentist's office or a low end lawyer's office. But not with jeans and a skirt. In fact, I can't think of much other than a t-shirt you could wear with jeans and a skirt.

Finally, the boots. These are suede leather moccasin boots. They have tassels on the top. U-G-L-Y unless you star in the community theatre's production of Pocahontas. WTF.

The components are ridiculous, but the ensemble itself is greater than the sum of its parts. If you're looking for an example of synergy, here it is: these components together are far butt uglier than they ever were apart.

However, I have a prediction. Foolish undergrads at Real Estate U, where I work, will be sporting the jeans-skirt look in much the same way that the morons bought into the "bleach striped jeans" look a year or so ago. Mark my words. That and faux fedoras -- with a surf bum twist -- will also be in fashion this summer.

God help us.

Travel Repercussions.

My poor baby girl is ill. She has a cough and sniffles and needs to see the doctor. She's now 10 months old and aside from scheduled "well baby" visits, she's only been to the doctor's once. Our son on the other hand was a chronic sufferer of ear infections and spent a good bit of time overcoming those nasty episodes. Fortunately, he's been relatively free of those since he was 4 years old.

This illness of course comes on top of the jet lag we all suffer. It's one thing for adults to have jet lag, but kids are another matter entirely. They don't understand time in the same way. Our son at least fell asleep before midnight last night, and this morning he went to school only an hour late. Even so, I dressed him in his sleep, brushed his teeth for him as he was half-asleep, and then carried him to the sofa, where he slept another hour. He'd still be sleeping now if I hadn't made him sit on a stool to eat toast.

Our daughter has compensated for all of this disruption by demanding constant nursing. This development is of course much harder on my wife than on me, since I'm not qualified to complete the task. Like her brother, she would sleep much later into the morning if we were able to stay home with her this week.

Time zones, at least standardized time zones, are relatively recent, being developed in the mid to late 19th century. Interestingly, the impetus for standardizing time in many countries came from the then-state of the art mode of travel: the railroad. Train schedules by necessity had to keep to a unified time, and the timetables published by rail systems often were adopted by local government.

As Vonnegut might have it, it probably isn't so difficult to become unstuck in time.

25 January 2006

Flight History.

The first time I flew in an airplane, I was 27 years old. My family simply didn't fly. Even when we visited Arizona back in 1979, we took the train. Other than that, we drove. Imagine three kids in the vinyl backseat of a 1982 Ford Fairmont that has a faulty air conditioner on a trip from Pennsylvania to Orlando, Florida, and you get the picture of hell.

I thought about this fact as I we packed the kids onto the plane for what seemed like the 100th time. For our five year old, it really has been close to a dozen trips. Maybe more.

I remember that first flight, because I was a starving graduate student and it was on Southwest Airlines and while Southwest may be fine for short hops, on cross-country trips they tend to stop you a few times. I vowed at that point never to fly Southwest again. And I haven't.

A few years later, I had a job that required occasional air travel. I flew to Kansas City, Houston, Phoenix, and Las Vegas. The first two were pits I never ever ever in my life want to visit again, especially Houston. Phoenix is bearable only because I have a good friend in Phoenix. Las Vegas on the other hand was tremendous.

All of this allows me to compile a list of places I've flown to, some multiple times:

Good:
San Francisco
Seattle
Paris
Dublin
LA (but never to stay in LA)
Las Vegas
Cleveland (!)
Chicago
Minneapolis (en route to Saint Cloud, MN)
New Orleans
Phoenix

Miserable:
Atlanta (I've driven there, too)
Houston
Kansas City

24 January 2006

Lessons learned in transit.

OK. I'll begin by saying that even though we wished to remain in California indefinitely, we couldn't because we work and apparently our employers seem to think we should actually show up at work occasionally. Both of us have extremely understanding and flexible workplaces, but my wife's office was holding its annual conference this week and she's heavily involved, etc. So we came back. For now.

Two lessons I've learned:

  1. Do not fly AirTran. It simply isn't worth it.
  2. Do not fly through Atlanta. It simply isn't worth it.
AirTran's configuration on the 737 or 757 -- honestly I don't know which it was -- is the cruelest I've ever encountered. The carry-on bag that I've taken on quite a few flights (a medium/large messenger bag) wouldn't fit under the seat without considerable forcing. The largest item in the bag was a laptop computer, and it wouldn't fit properly. Additionally the seats themselves were closer-set than any other seats I've ever been on and thinner (talking actual seat thickness from front to back). I'm figuring they managed to squeeze a few more rows on the plane through this innovation, which is all well and good in some QBA major's wet dream, but sucks incredibly if you're actually a passenger on this banana republic bus with wings. The plane was pretty well full leaving LAX, but the second leg of the trip, from Atlanta to DC, was at best a third full. Before that flight took off, we asked for a blanket for our son. The flight attendant (cue The Replacements' "Waitress in the Sky") replies that they were all out of blankets. How the hell can you be out of blankets on a ghost flight that hasn't even left the ground yet?

Of course, I'd be more forgiving if we weren't delayed by nearly five hours. Our flight from LAX, supposedly leaving at around noon, didn't get off the ground until after 3 p.m. AirTran staff in LA blamed Atlanta. Once in Atlanta, our new connection (having missed the original thanks to the 3 hour delay in LA) was itself delayed 2 hours. A trip that was supposed to end at 10 p.m. actually ended at 2:30 a.m.

Atlanta is apparently a hellish place to fly into or out of. An older couple who missed their connection due to delays informed me that their children told them not to fly through Atlanta because they're always delayed. As if that wasn't enough, the cabbie who took us from National back to Adams Morgan asked us how our trip was. As soon as we said we were delayed in Atlanta, he told us that Atlanta always has problems.

That's powerful knowledge when a cabbie who specializes in picking up travellers in DC knows that Atlanta is a bad airport. It tells you that he's heard the story quite a bit.

20 January 2006

quick one from the road.

Highway 101 is a beautiful thing to drive between Ventura and Santa Barbara. It hugs the coast, offering up the daily views of surfers and the occasional dolphin pod. Of course, further out you get the Channel Islands and a some offshore oil rigs. I've been spending a good bit of time in a hospice in Santa Barbara, watching my wife feed her mother and trying to keep the children from knocking the walls over.

Yesterday and today however the major task was taking care of a closet and drawers full of clothes and shoes that her mother will never again wear. It's a terrible thing for a child to have to go through his or her parent's clothes in that situation. We packed them in the rental and dropped them off at a thrift store. My wife cried the whole drive. My mother-in-law eats and drinks, but barely looks at you when she's even awake. Most of her time she sleeps. She hasn't spoken for quite some time. Her face in fact lacks any sort of affect.

We are coming back to DC Monday the 23rd, but there's so much unresolved out here, and as difficult as it is to sit in room with a parent who can no longer respond to you, it's even more difficult to return to DC and try to go about your business knowing she's lying there.

12 January 2006

Update on Alito and CAP

So now CAP's leader (who must be a wonderful gentleman) has provided a few boxes of CAP materials and "Alito's name doesn't appear in any of the documents," according to Arlen Specter. Specter seems to think this absence is a good thing. The 2006 Alito himself "can't recall" joining the group, even though the 1985 Alito thought they were cool enough to list on a job application.

Perhaps more disturbing than Alito's lack of recall might be the question of falsifying a resume. If, as Specter so gleefully speculates, Alito may not have been a member of this group, then he lied about being a member on his White House job application. Falsifying credentials has been the downfall of many an applicant, whether for fire chief or football coach. I wonder if the same standard applies for Supreme Court justice.