When I dropped Steve at work Saturday morning, it was already quite warm, and in my mind, there is nothing like a hot and sunny weekend to erase, if temporarily, Swine induced stress. Over the bridge I went with Green Lake in my sights. I love Green Lake – it is probably my most blogged about Seattle locale. Sure there are a million trails on the eastside, but nothing beats its circularity and peopleful path for a fun-filled excursion of leaping over dogleashes and cooing at the adorable offspring donning the latest Tutti Bella in the newest McClaren. Babies are everywhere and if there is a patch missing a baby, there is a woman one breath away from screaming for an Epidural, so help me God! Some days all this baby, baby everywhere and not a one for me atmospherics is more than I can handle, but this day I can only smile happily for the blessed and enjoy my flat belly and the exercise and sunshine.
After I’m done, I head to my mother’s house, so she can douse my head in hair dye, which she succeeds in painting all over my face. I leave looking a wee bit violet, Violet. Damn mahogany tint!
I’ve decided to play tourist, so my sister and I drive to downtown Seattle and park just north of my soon-to-be-former office and walk to the water front and north toward the Olympic Sculpture Park. Upon our arrival at the fountain near the entrance, I marveled at how beautiful the day was – the sunny sparkled so fantastically off the naked man holding his arms out to the naked boy. I call this one “Public Pedophilia.” As Kiki and I giggled for the first of many times that day, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see two young guys standing there grinning goofily holding up a cell phone in askance.
“My friend here was wondering if he could take a picture of you with his cell phone,” the taller, less goofy one asked. Hmm, strike one for my ego. So they took their picture, and I took one as well, because we had to, duh. Then the tall guy said he needed a picture with me because I’m taller. Well, at least that’s something. He gave me a big smooch on my cheek, which I wasn’t expecting at all and why all of my teeth, tonsils and esophagus are showing. Then he asked if I wanted some of his Pepsi. No, thanks! He confided that it was actually whiskey, the liquid courage necessary for him to be talking to us right now. That explained the breath. They were from Portland, they explained and didn’t know anyone, had never been to Seattle, and were looking for fun. So after they harassed us to hang out with them that evening, despite my protests that having a boyfriend makes such a thing impossible, we escaped from their company. Who knows I’m probably on some MySpace page somewhere now along with the rest of the day’s gallery, so heh, heh, heh, they’re now a part of mine.
Now, I’m all for sculpture. Yes, sculpture’s nice. Have you ever seen the David? Well, I haven’t, not in person anyway, but I’m told it’s magnificent. You can stand in it’s wonder in awe of the artistry and the craftsmanship. Same with the Venus, and well, what do you know, I’ve exhausted my sculpture knowledge. Moving along. I know sculpture is not just a piece of marble chipped away until it looks more like fabric than fabric does, but take a look at the images below. High-brow art or Fisher Price on a grand scale? Behold the typewriter eraser, the giant neon ampersand, the Lincoln logs, the big silver tree, which looks like a wooden tree that’s been spray painted. 
I can’t stare in awe of the mastery of some over-sized building block no matter how hard I try.
So we had fun taking pictures of each other and laughing at the “art.” These pictures remind me of how little alike we look. Strange.
And I wonder, if you were commissioned for a piece of the work for this Sculpture Park, what would you make? I think I’d make a giant date stamp, complete with that satisfying cachunk sound.
Tomorrow - our trip to the Pike Place Market Festival.
I can’t stare in awe of the mastery of some over-sized building block no matter how hard I try.
