Riley won a painting contest at school last week that got her a ticket on the first swan boat ride of the year with Boston’s mayor, Marty Walsh, and her friends. I interviewed the artist about this great accomplishment.
Me: Why did you paint a swan?
Riley: It was our art project.
Me: Does everyone in your class do the same project every time?
Riley, while rolling her eyes: Have you seen my barn? Have you seen my flowers? We don’t do the same thing. Right now we’re doing cakes and cupcakes.
Me: No, I mean does every kid do the same project? Like do they all paint the same thing at the same time?
Riley: Yes. Like we all did swans, but they all look different because everyone draws differently.
Me: When you started this swan project, did you know about the swan boats?
Riley, unimpressed: No.
Me: So you just did your best but you didn’t know it was a contest.
Riley: Yeah. Like who won and who lost.
Me: How did you feel when you found out you won?
Riley: Happy because I really liked it that I won.
Me: And what did you win?
Riley: I won… I don’t know. Do you know?
Me: You won a ride on the first swan boat. And what else? Where does your painting go?
Riley: In Marty Walsh’s office, right?
Me: Well, it goes in City Hall.
Riley: What is City Hall?
Me: That’s where Marty Walsh works.
Riley: Like that’s where he writes notes and stuff? Where does he live? Does he live at the State House?
Me: He lives at his own house. City Hall is just offices where he works.
Riley: Have we ever been there?
Me: Yeah, I went there once to get a parking sticker for my car.
Riley: Wait, there’s a store there? Or did you get it from Marty Walsh?
Me: Marty doesn’t work at the parking section. I got it from someone else there. Did you like meeting the mayor?
Riley: Yeah, he was nice. I already know the mayor so you shouldn’t say meeting.
Me: How do you know him?
Riley: Because I just know him.
Me: What was your favorite part about the swan boat day?
Riley: I got a balloon, but it wasn’t the kind of balloon that had a string. It was just regular.
Congratulations winners and happy swan boat season, Boston!
Let’s take the bus! Because I can’t see my car under all the snow and I might just leave it there until spring!
It’s okay! Tiny commuter loves a bus commute!
We have too much snow. It’s not fun anymore and I’d like it to stop. But it won’t. More is coming tomorrow. Our entire public transit system is failing (as in won’t be back to normal for at least 30 days) and my cabinets and freezer are now empty. I couldn’t shovel out my car today because it was too cold to take Roozle outside with me and the snow is so high, she can’t really play in it without the fear of falling from way too high. THAT IS NOT RIGHT.
She played for a few minutes before swimming tonight. Just long enough to get too cold and get really mad at me for the too-small snowsuit that is becoming a problem. Sorry, Roozle, I didn’t know we were going to get ALL THE SNOW IN THE WHOLE WORLD ALL AT ONCE. Next time, I will prepare better. Or just buy bigger snowpants.
The roads are terrible. People can’t walk on sidewalks because they’re shoveled, then they aren’t, so you get stuck. Not stuck like oh I’ll just climb this pile. Stuck like OMG THERE IS A WALL OF 10 FEET OF SNOW IN FRONT OF ME. So yeah, go ahead, walk in the street. I’ll wait.
Last week I thought soon this will be over and we will remember how fun and crazy it was. Now I’m not sure we will ever recover BECAUSE THIS IS TOO MUCH SNOW. Also, I’d really like public transit back. I need to go to work again at some point. Send help. And groceries. And transportation. And shovels. Or something.
I went to the Museum of Fine Arts tonight. To write. Because what could be more inspiring than an art museum? I can’t think of anything. I couldn’t think of much to write, either. Apparently, art museums are awful at helping me write. I should’ve known when I saw this sign. It doesn’t include write. Muse? Yes. Want to touch everything? Yes. Wish all your friends were with you because OMG she would love this one? Yes, that too.
I’ll stick to cafes for writing and the art museum for gasping. So much gasping.
Goodness, Jackson Pollock.
Art makes you feel so small. Especially when you get lost in ancient Egypt looking for Buddha.
Maybe next time I’ll get a map.