We are going to the beach. I don’t care if the tide is low or high, or whether I feel like going tomorrow or not. I am washing clothes and packing our possibles, because I need to breathe cool, salty air and drive home with nappy hair and sandy toes.
When the Fireworks Began
We were sitting in the Santa Cruz Diner. The neighborhood began to pop fireworks and fizzers into the purple dusk. We were about to pay the bill and drive through boardwalk traffic to a fireworks show that didn’t really exist. We discovered that the best seats in Santa Cruz might have been on the beach, choking on camp smoke and trying to keep Chas out of the fire. Therefore the car, as it turned out, was the best seat. It was simply one of those fourths that we decided not to plan. In other words, it was a time for us to be lame.
The day itself was much more gratifying: an afternoon spent on a warm secluded beach about a half hour north of Santa Cruz.
Museum Possible
Above my expectations, the MOMA trip was something I can’t believe we didn’t try sooner. But our mental armor was strong that day. We pared the visit down to a Braque and that huge dog painting in the second floor foyer (hell if I remember; I was too busy trying to convince Chas that, even though the paint looked like dabs of toothpaste, he indeed could not touch it)…
And then, the Matisse exhibit. For both boys, a treat: nothing but nummies, in all dimensions. Having found our medium, our tether to real life, we were set. All we had to do was circulate smoothly without shouting too many body parts and we’d eventually hit the outdoor mezzanine. It was perfect! Couldn’t have dreamed up a better recess.
After knocking out the ya-ya’s, we had pizza downstairs.
The MOMA heats up a good pint-sized pepperoni pizza and the kids devoured it. We swilled a few pints of beer and then Damon and Dwight (Damon’s brother) took the kids across the street to Yerba Buena Gardens so that I could see the rest of the Matisse exhibit in peace.
I think the kids, mostly Ford, would have appreciated that second half of the exhibit, being a bold departure from the previous body of work. Matisse had begun cutting pieces of paper to rearrange in composition for his larger paintings. And then, down the hall, the “Jazz” series of prints, all laid out on the white table–what have we all come to know better as the work of Matisse?
Still, what’s best for the boys is plenty or room in the schedule for freeform fun. And fortunately, what’s best for them worked out to be best for me, too. Thanks, D 🙂
