Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Museum of Natural History.
Marguerite and I decided today would be a perfect day (wet and rainy) for a few antics in a museum. We like this sort of thing. Dinosaurs & planets. Gazelles & Phyla. Flips.
Duly, pterodactyls were flying overhead.
The basement of the museum made me think of a recent story in the New Yorker by David Owen about rooting out the smells of childhood again. He writes about his smell-quest that led him to a museum where an ectype of a childhood smell still lingered in his mind, but was nowhere to be found in the museum. After he left the museum and his search behind, the smell, even in his mind, was gone forever. I think it is now hiding in the basement of the Museum of Natural History on 81st Street in Manhattan.
Jolina came with us to the museum (she is featured in Marguerite's arms above). Marguerite channels through Jolina.
"My baby does not take naps anymore."
"My baby was very naughty this morning and I told her to go in her room until she wanted to be nice."
"My baby is scared of the biggest dinausaurs."
"My baby never grows."
"My baby's legs are tired of walking."
"My baby always eats in restaurants."
"My baby speaks English very well." (This is all, of course, in French).