Saturday, April 04, 2009


Last week, on my four day weekend, we went to the House on the Rock, and followed it up with a visit to Kopp's Custard in Milwaukee, and then my nephew's (and niece's) house in Chicago for his fifth birthday. As part of the hanging out together event, we all went to the Chicago Field Museum for a day. I can't say I'm entirely impressed. Sue, the T-Rex dinosaur, was pretty cool. But the cost to enter the museum, plus the add on costs for the underground exhibit and pirates exhibit make you appreciate just how good we have it here in Minnesota where prices for culture are low, to nonexistent if you get a library pass. We had a good time, cost notwithstanding.

Here's Eryn, Max, Sophie and Grandma in front of Sue. Sophie was all about holding Eryn's hand. When she got tired or sad, Eryn's hand seemed to be the cure. Eryn wasn't 100% sure that was a good thing, but she was a good sport.

How many kids does it take to build a pyramid? More than this.

ARRRR! I'm a pirate, ye scurvy lubbers! And pirates wear stickers on their fleece pullovers. And stand in front of posters about dandy frogs. That's how vicious we are. ARRRR..... Is it just me, or is he giving me sort of an annoyed/disgusted look? We got to see a big pile of silver pieces of 8 that had "never been touched". I wondered how they'd a.) cleaned it and b.) gotten it to the museum, without it being touched in any way. Eryn did get to see a gibbet, which had been described in one of her books recently. Bonus!

After the pirates, we stopped at a New Zealand communal hut to hear a story from a cranky old man who, nevertheless, told a good story about Maui fishing up the whole north island of New Zealand. He said something at one point that seemed almost racist, but I'm going to chalk it up to my imagination. Early in the story process, a little kid started whipping around in circles like a maniac and talking loudly, so his parents removed him from the hut. For the next 15 minutes you could hear him screaming from what sounded like the other end of the museum, like someone was removing his fingernails. That's got to be a positive museum-going experience for his parents.

The underground exhibit shrank you to only 1/2 an inch tall. So there were huge grubs, which figured in a nightmare I had my first night back, spiders, ants, roots and discarded insect shells. This is the reality of how little girls are born.

Me, inappropriately touching a monkey. Or am I? If a monkey is in estrus, can they be inappropriately touched? And, if it gets his gnarly ass off the fresh vegetables at the market, isn't that a positive act? I'm not sure why that guy thinks faux overseers should touch monkey butts, but he does seem to be encouraging me.

These aren't from the field museum, but from our swimming adventures. I came back with a face so dry from chlorine it resembled my heels more than the soft, downy features you all are used to admiring. This is the submarine I was referring to at the House on the Rock Inn. There are several red buttons inside. If you reach for one while Eryn is watching, she'll cover her ears, scream, "NOOOOOOOO!!!" and run for an exit. As near as I can tell, they do nothing at all.

The pool at our Chicago hotel. Eryn has recently learned to dog paddle and put her head underwater. It's a big change in her swimming, so I'm looking forward to bicycling to the lake this summer.

1 comment:

MeanMrMustard said...

If "he" has a gnarly ass, "he" isn't in estrus. I think you need to go back to monkey school.