Several random pieces of inanity

Last night I went to my friend's art gallery opening. I don't know if you know this, but at art gallery openings? There is free wine. I may have had some of this wine, and then proceeded to call my sister 15 times to warn her that Veronica Mars was on that night and my TiVo was on the fritz (I KNOW) and she needed to tape it for me. (Remember tapes? Horrid little suckers, but quite useful when your TiVo's hard drive is all "I am on strike until someone brings me a mai tai, stat.") But anyway, the Art was awesome. I love my friend's stuff. I did not drink enough wine (nor did my husband, the annoying teetotaler) to be talked into buying one of the paintings, even with the [lovely and delightful] gallery owner's delayed payment, deferred interest spiel. "Everyone should have access to art!" she declared, and I agree. Can I please have one for free? I especially like the first one on the page, with the two pink circles. I love those colors. I would also like someone to come and hang it on the empty wall in my house, and then install track lighting so we can drink wine at home and gaze thoughtfully at our gorgeous piece of Art. "We know the Artist," we'll say smugly.

When I was in high school I remember going to a big crafts bazaar with my parents, and we came home with a big painting. I don't really remember my folks being big art aficionados or anything, though our house was decorated with lots of prints and paintings bought from the sidewalk artists in Europe. And I know absolutely nothing about art, so I couldn't even tell you what style this big painting was, except it seemed vaguely reminiscent of a Spanish painter to me. Let me consult Professor Google- ah yes. Possibly some Picasso with a bit of Miro thrown in? It was rather cartoon-like, a brightly colored village scene with lots of funky looking people and animals and buildings. (Actually, almost every print I've bought as a grown up resembles this cartoony drawing-with-primary-colors look. I really like it.) Anyway, they bought it from the Actual Painter, who then said he would "dedicate" it to my family. So on the back of the painting he wrote all of our names, except he did not just write the names, he drew the names. It is super cool. I can't quite describe what they look like either, but maybe loopy and angled and big and small and extra funky. It was really neat to watch him do it.

When I am a millionaire novelist I will buy lots of Art.

The night before that, the bridge got stuck. I've been bugging the technically-inclined around me to find the perfect digital camera. We have one, but it's big and clunky and makes me mad every time I see it because it cost as much as a personal island and Phillip bought it within days of marrying me. And when I asked how much it cost, he told me the price after the rebates. NOT COOL. I want a little one to keep in my bag for moments like the other night, when the bridge was stuck and a thick sheet of gray was hiding the details, except for bright yellow school bus halfway across the bridge. Oh, how I felt for that bus driver.

The last time you couldn't drive across the bridge, it was because of a terrible accident. It took me two and a half hours to make it home that night, partly because every north end commuter was trying to avoid the Ballard Bridge and make it across the Fremont Bridge, but also because I got lost on Queen Anne. (Sorry you non-Seattle people. I realize I talk about Seattle neighborhoods and places a lot, especially about driving. But you have to understand, the traffic here is INSANE and there are two giant lakes and a canal that splice up the whole city. It is, as Nick from Project Runway would say, "KerAYZy!") Anyway, having learned my lesson last time, I informed Phillip that I would be meeting him for happy hour downtown and we would attempt to drive home around 9. (Dude, we even closed the OFFICE early so people could get home at a reasonable hour.)

Even if you didn't have to sell a lung to afford a house in this city, there's no way I could convince my parents to live here, simply because of the traffic. They hate driving to Seattle. I used to hate it too, but I'm pretty used to it now. I almost never take the freeway during rush hour, that's just inviting insanity.

Speaking of insanity, it is still raining. Weep.

Also, I am wearing my tall boots today, mostly because the Artist was wearing hers last night and she was super cute. Of course, she is tiny and twee, and I am large and hulking. I somehow walked out of my house without noticing that my calves look like the giant cuts of tenderloin Alton Brown purchased from Costco and made into tasty pepper steaks. Yum.