Goghing to the Getty.

Today, I went to the Getty Center with my dear friend A, her husband and their adorable son, Little Lord L.


When our friends have children, my husband and I are always respectful.

The husband, who I sometimes refer to as my “first child,” opted not to come with us to the museum, because 1) he feared spring break crowds and 2) just today, he received his compression sack in the mail and he wanted to spend a few hours putting things into it, compressing them, and then taking them out again.  You know, really riveting and important work.  (I told him I would never speak to him again if he didn’t meet us for dinner and he replied, “Promise?”  He talks a big game, buuuuut he came to the dinner.)

A and I met years ago when we were both working at a baby boutique in the city, and we were instantly bonded by the trauma of working retail in Los Angeles.  I absolutely love her and wish we could see each other more often.  A only lives a county away, but I am a terrible friend and can never go visit.  This is sad for many reasons (like, for instance, her son is four months older now than he was the last time I saw him), but it is most tragic because she and I are so very similar – it’s upsetting to get so little face time with someone I am so in tune with.  (Example of our telepathy: she and I showed up wearing the same shoes today.  Not the same kind of shoes.  The very same shoe.)

I am so happy I got to see the three of them today.  We had a picnic, wandered the grounds, encountered a close-talking, extremely intense old man who whispered the location of a “secret” da Vinci in the museum directly into my face, and were guided to the front of many lines because we had a stroller in our party (yet another reason to have a child ASAP).  I feel relaxed and fulfilled and I’ve only been on vacation for a day!

I’m also glad I got such awesome photos.  Thank you, iPhone, for making me as skilled an artist as these men who spent their entire lives learning how to paint still lives.

photo 1-1

I knew this one!  Van Gogh!

photo 1

I bet you didn’t notice there is a monkey in this painting.

photo 2-1

This is replacing “Grimacing Baby” as the image I see in my head when I hate something.

photo 2


photo 3

This is an admittedly horrible photo. However, can you believe that someone did this WITH PAINT? I mean, it’s incredible.

photo 5

There was a stubborn marine layer today, so it was a little hazy, but gorgeous nevertheless.

photo 4

If you ever find yourself in LA, you must visit the Getty.  I almost feel like the architecture and gardens and overall experience are more of a draw (pun intended!) than the artwork inside.  Then again, I know nothing about art and am a sucker for the outdoors.  There truly is something for everyone here.  They even sell booze!


4 thoughts on “Goghing to the Getty.

    • I will gift you the bitter statue photo, if you want it. It’s a terrible quality cell phone picture I took while trying to evade museum security, but you are welcome to it if TL needs some company.

      Anything for TL, is what I always say.

    • He literally dug in his heels and said no. I know from past experience that he would have been, dare I say, a whiny baby the whole time if I’d forced him to come with me, especially because there were, in fact, huge crowds and he hates that. So, I let him off the hook. We all had a great dinner together afterward, so he was redeemed. Had he not come to meet us, though…

      In the past, I dragged him kicking and screaming to tons of things he didn’t want to do (day trips with relative strangers, weekenders, dinner parties full of only my friends, awkward gatherings, etc.). Now, unless it’s family or a wedding or a baby’s first birthday (which I realize is a weird line to draw), he can stay home and play with his compression sack if he prefers. Isn’t it sweet of me to give him permission to make his own choices? 🙂


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