Meet the parents
My parents are visiting this week, off and on, which means my weekend was packed and crazy, but also a lot of fun. Parent hang-out time...woot?
On Saturday, we went to my new favorite museum, Newseum (a museum of the news, and not, as I had vaguely imagined, a new museum or a museum of new things), which is a) where Josh Lyman was shot and b) a place that everybody should visit due to its amazingness. More than anything, it's a museum of the human experience and the way we interpret life communally through the media; it made me want to cry and to laugh and to write wonderful and heartbreaking things, all at once. Among other things: the radio antenna from the north tower of the World Trade Center; recovered footage from the camera of a photographer who died when the tower collapsed; a quirky and hilarious exhibit on Presidential pets; a page from an original 1455 Gutenberg Bible; an exhibit on criminals and the news (John Dillinger; Joseph Pistone/Donnie Brasco's work inside the Mob; a truly terrifying letter/self-portrait sent to a reporter by John Wayne Gacy). It was fascinating and intimate and made me love the human instinct to process via documentation. Also, I need to go back to the goldmine that is the criminals exhibit with my writer's notebook so as to yoink some ideas for possible future TV villains. Yay for museums!
So, you know, that was good.
Yesterday, in the morning, the Universal Law of Church Visitation (wherein bringing a new person to church requires that everything go completely haywire: pastor out of town, youth Sunday, no heat or air conditioning, drama troupe from Uganda, sermon on finances/homosexuality/generalized hellfire and damnation, crazy person eating flowers in front row*) reared its ugly head in such a way that we almost didn't make it at all: due to some huge and unidentified event on the Mall, all of the downtown streets and freeway onramps were closed, leading to massive traffic jam and thorough tour of scary and unfamiliar Southeast DC. We made it for the last twenty minutes of church (far be it from us to give up on churchy fun of any kind, come hell [ha!] or high water); I think we mostly showed up just so we could tell everybody our story.
(*true story of captainoz's first day at First Pres)
Later, my dad and I drove out to Maryland and took a long walk along the C&O canal, which was leafy and beautiful, and I think made both of our days. My dad is very quiet, very thoughtful, and sometimes gets out-talked by my super-outgoing mother; I try to make sure he and I get plenty of chances to hang out and chat, but it happens less than I'd like. We mostly talked about books and about his imminent retirement, including his plans to a) read a lot, b) return to stained glass work, and c) start a jam-making business to employ and provide skills and experience to some of the homeless and formerly homeless people he knows from church (combining his twin passions for service and preserved fruit, I guess?). He's the coolest guy I know, and I hope I tell him that often enough. I'm pretty sure I don't.
Also, let it be known that I make a kickass Fathers' Day strawberry-rhubarb crumble.
They're off to the Pennsylvania Dutch country and Philadelphia overnight, which will give them some privacy and me a chance to work on my script and sleep in my own bed--I'm currently sleeping on the couch, where Mr. MEOW MEOW MEOW/*jumps onto couch and sticks nose into armpit, purring* has ready access at all times--which seems to me like the perfect structure for a family visit. I expect that we will all still like each other by the time they head home, which is, I think, a good goal.
And how are you all on this fine Monday morning?
On Saturday, we went to my new favorite museum, Newseum (a museum of the news, and not, as I had vaguely imagined, a new museum or a museum of new things), which is a) where Josh Lyman was shot and b) a place that everybody should visit due to its amazingness. More than anything, it's a museum of the human experience and the way we interpret life communally through the media; it made me want to cry and to laugh and to write wonderful and heartbreaking things, all at once. Among other things: the radio antenna from the north tower of the World Trade Center; recovered footage from the camera of a photographer who died when the tower collapsed; a quirky and hilarious exhibit on Presidential pets; a page from an original 1455 Gutenberg Bible; an exhibit on criminals and the news (John Dillinger; Joseph Pistone/Donnie Brasco's work inside the Mob; a truly terrifying letter/self-portrait sent to a reporter by John Wayne Gacy). It was fascinating and intimate and made me love the human instinct to process via documentation. Also, I need to go back to the goldmine that is the criminals exhibit with my writer's notebook so as to yoink some ideas for possible future TV villains. Yay for museums!
So, you know, that was good.
Yesterday, in the morning, the Universal Law of Church Visitation (wherein bringing a new person to church requires that everything go completely haywire: pastor out of town, youth Sunday, no heat or air conditioning, drama troupe from Uganda, sermon on finances/homosexuality/generalized hellfire and damnation, crazy person eating flowers in front row*) reared its ugly head in such a way that we almost didn't make it at all: due to some huge and unidentified event on the Mall, all of the downtown streets and freeway onramps were closed, leading to massive traffic jam and thorough tour of scary and unfamiliar Southeast DC. We made it for the last twenty minutes of church (far be it from us to give up on churchy fun of any kind, come hell [ha!] or high water); I think we mostly showed up just so we could tell everybody our story.
(*true story of captainoz's first day at First Pres)
Later, my dad and I drove out to Maryland and took a long walk along the C&O canal, which was leafy and beautiful, and I think made both of our days. My dad is very quiet, very thoughtful, and sometimes gets out-talked by my super-outgoing mother; I try to make sure he and I get plenty of chances to hang out and chat, but it happens less than I'd like. We mostly talked about books and about his imminent retirement, including his plans to a) read a lot, b) return to stained glass work, and c) start a jam-making business to employ and provide skills and experience to some of the homeless and formerly homeless people he knows from church (combining his twin passions for service and preserved fruit, I guess?). He's the coolest guy I know, and I hope I tell him that often enough. I'm pretty sure I don't.
Also, let it be known that I make a kickass Fathers' Day strawberry-rhubarb crumble.
They're off to the Pennsylvania Dutch country and Philadelphia overnight, which will give them some privacy and me a chance to work on my script and sleep in my own bed--I'm currently sleeping on the couch, where Mr. MEOW MEOW MEOW/*jumps onto couch and sticks nose into armpit, purring* has ready access at all times--which seems to me like the perfect structure for a family visit. I expect that we will all still like each other by the time they head home, which is, I think, a good goal.
And how are you all on this fine Monday morning?