Kimberly (kimberly_a) wrote,
Kimberly
kimberly_a

  • Mood:
Finally talked to my mom, 'cause she phoned and I was here and I decided talking on the phone was easier than trying to answer 100 emails. So we actually had a very pleasant long conversation. She and her best friend from high school (they've continued to be friends fairly continuously since then) are going on a trip together next month, and so Mom's pretty excited about that. They're planning what to do in London, and so I told my mom that she must go to the Sir John Soane's Museum, because it is probably the only domicile I have ever visited which was more full of crap than my mom's house. Seriously. Walking through my mom's house is like walking simultaneously through a maze and a very kitschy museum filled primarily with photographs in cutesy frames. She's got trunks full of photo albums, cute little tables, hand-painted antique stools, all kinds of junk. Her house makes me claustrophobic. Several years ago, I moved into a new apartment and my mom insisted that I send her pictures after I'd been living there about a year. When she saw the photos, she was aghast that most of my walls were blank.

Suffice to say: we have opposite tastes in decorating.

Anyway, I don't know if she'll make it to Sir John Soane's, but I'm glad I was able to remember the name so I could recommend it to her. It's full of really interesting stuff, but ... sheesh! A house gets crowded past a certain point, and the stuff just starts being stuff, because you can't see it all properly and to its best advantage and it all overwhelms everything else and bleh!

I also recommended that my mom check out the Van Goghs at the National Gallery. That was where I first understood my mom's obsession with him as a painter. I'd always seen the prints and just shrugged my shoulders and thought, "So? Weird. Whatever." But when I saw the actual paint on the actual canvases, I was completely blown away by the sheer physical and emotional intensity. I've been a Van Gogh fan ever since.

This will be my mom's first trip abroad without me. Good for her! In fact, she'll be showing her friend around Paris, which makes me proud, because the last time my mom and I were in Paris she was scared to go anywhere by herself, but she was driving me crazy with all the togetherness, and so I very insistently taught her how to take the Metro by herself (and this took quite a bit of teaching) and started sending her off to have adventures on her own while I sat in a cafe and wrote in my journal and people-watched. And now she's going to be showing her friend around like an old pro at this whole travel thing. It's nice to see how confident she is about it now.

Anyway, enough about my mother, and enough about London and Paris, and enough about Van Gogh and Sir John Soane and all that jazz. Shannon is chomping at the bit to go buy groceries (more juice!), so I'd better fly.

PS - Still depressed. But having something of a sense of humor about it. Strange, but true.
Tags: mom, travel
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