A Throne For the People

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Fall is almost upon us and the tourist hordes have mostly passed, which means it’s the perfect time to venture out to some of DC’s best attractions. I too succumb to the ennui that plagues many city-dwellers, meaning that I don’t take advantage of the countless diversions the district has to offer unless someone comes to visit. But I resolved earlier this year to change that and with the weather cooling off to my favorite, crisp temperatures, I think it’s finally time.

The American Art Gallery is one of the more neglected museums because it’s collection is distinctly unglamorous. Whoopee,  a bunch of early Americans painted the fabric of rich ladies’ dresses relatively well—how can that compete with a dinosaur skeleton or a space shuttle or a da Vinci or a Vermeer? It can’t. But that’s one of the reasons the museum is appealing; it’s rarely as crowded as the others. The location is nicer too, or at least it’s usually more convenient for me given my most frequented neighborhoods. Because it’s free, you can pop in for ten minutes and then go on about your day. And sometimes I do pop in just to look at The Throne of the Third Heaven…, one of my favorite pieces (assemblages?) of art.

Origin Story

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I cannot tell you how often I am questioned about this necklace. Women stop me in public to compliment me and ask what it means. Men don’t stop me—not about my jewelry anyway—but they do regularly ask where it came from, what significance it has. After about a year of disappointing everyone with the mundane facts, I’m ready to create a story that will live up to this arresting necklace’s appearance. And I thought I would ask for help. If you’ve seen me wear this necklace before (and if we’ve met at all, I bet you have) please lend me your assistance. Here are some prompts to help you get started with a really rip-roaring origin story.

One Year Ago Today….

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As some of you already know, last year was a beast for me, mostly due to the renovations of my home. The process dragged on for ages and was fraught with drama, though it’s probably redundant to say as much since I’ve never known anyone to have a seamless, happy experience in that department. I know how melodramatic it sounds but I nearly shudder to recall some of the stress of that time. I regularly came home exhausted by extensive travel and ready to collapse, only to immediately blow a gasket over the state of what I’d walked into. But at the end of it all came a beautiful Vogue-worthy space and heartier mettle for me. (I think my mettle was already brass knuckles-strong, but wow, did this ordeal test me!) And I got a picture out of it, this funny mashup of my two most coveted items, brought together at long last while my closet area took its turn on the redo wheel of agony.

Those Summer Nights

It may not technically be summer but I feel like the season’s already kicked off and that’s not only thanks to the legendary DC heat. As you may have noticed from my calendar, June is packed with travel and fun getaways, and I could not be more excited. I’m incredibly lucky to have so many great adventures behind me and so many more to come—but then again, that’s always true. July is going to be a pretty crowded month too, so if there are any big date requests you’ve been waiting to make then, please let me know ASAP to allow me to do my best to accommodate them. Later in the month will be best.

Gratitude

When I was a kid, there were a few times I was accused of being selfish or ungrateful, and it always pulled me up short because I worried it was true. As an adult, I am notoriously possessive of food, or, as you might label such behavior in a dog, “food aggressive.” (I think this is for a very specific—and good—reason that I would be happy to outline for you over dinner.) And I remember being loathe to loan books to my third grade best friend because of her awful habit of dropping them into the bath. This same friend once gave me a “what part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?” button, probably because of the book stinginess. But her family was rich, and mine wasn’t, and I treated my books like they were rare items on loan from the National Archives. So, again, I believe I was justified and rational in my denials.