"Of Finns & Frames" or "Dates with the Darlings"

As of today, we've instituted monthly dates with our kids and a parent. This month, I got Kingfisher & Bowery Bird.

Kingfisher and I went this morning to the Home Depot Kid's Workshop where this month's project was making a picture frame. I hadn't been to one of these in a long time and had just as much fun watching Kingfisher take his hammering and painting and stickering seriously as I did watching the parents take it just as seriously. I'm not kidding, there are always those parents who take their perfectly capable kids to a "Kid's Workshop" and yet the majority of the work ends up being done by an adult.
Of course we took our pin and balloon (kept in separate pockets), and got doughnuts afterward.

Bowery Bird and I went out this afternoon to another BYU International Cinema film. This time we saw Christmas Story. Not the Christmas Story everyone loves, and I personally loathe, but a Finnish version of St. Nick's beginning. Heavy on woodcarving and pure charity, light on commercialism and magic--it was a breath of arctic air compared to many American Christmas specials. It was Bowery Bird's first full length film with subtitles, and beyond the false start in Finnish--I don't think it even  phased her.
Afterward we exited the back door, and were lured into the science building with it's magnetic-manipulating gloves, perpetual pendulum, and giant crystals from Arkansas. I know--who could refuse?

These are not just balloons-they are works of art!--he cried

Mr. Owl & I went to the opening reception at BYU for an exhibit of Andy Warhol and some other guy.
I had a friend who remembered his art collecting father  pulling something out from underneath the bed whenever they needed money- like an Andy Warhol silk screened shopping bag.

This was my first thought as we walked up to the BYU Museum of Art. Mr Owl's first thought was, "WOW, I shouldn't have forgot my hipster glasses and skinny jeans at home." I haven't seen such a concentration of trendy since my last Neon Trees concert at Velor. The lobby was packed. Clustered flower balloons above, and live music beneath.

Downstairs we picked out our favorite Marilyn Monroe run, admired the Man on the Moon, and smiled at the film of Nico projected on the wall. I don't do much talking...Theeese days...cough, cough.

A later visit in the mystic room of Mylar.

As I was both taking notes on trendy and vaguely wondering what those banging noises beyond were, a suited older gentleman swiftly cut through the crowd. I plucked Mr. Owl's sleeve, "Let's go watch some kids get chewed out."
We made our way to a room filled with a dozen huge Mylar balloons gently sailing up and down,  just in time to witness him march in with authority and demand, "Where are your Parents!!" to the children punching and jumping on the balloons unlucky enough to be on their way down. The parents were 3 feet away, of course, chatting. "These are not just balloons-they are works of art--paid for by an endowment!" he cried indignantly.
He was exactly right, and phrased it beautifully. How else would anyone describe an unadorned four foot Mylar balloon?
You can bet I'm going to quote him at the next--and probably every birthday party I ever attend.