You, Me, and the Sea: Nine Years and Counting

So, why You, Me, and the Sea?  Obviously, because it rhymes with Owen Wilson's, You, Me, and Dupree!  Which makes even less sense than "sea" unless Dupree equals Van Gogh, Hokusai's The Waves being the inspiration for Starry Night.

For our ninth wedding anniversary, which was yesterday, the husband suggested going to see Beyond Van Gogh: The Immersive Experience.  A traveling exhibit, it had landed just miles away in Atlantic City at the Hard Rock Casino, so it seemed like a fun, local option.  Yet at first I was like, I don't know.  With COVID still looming large, going to a casino seemed dicey.  And yet, I was wavering.  The husband is a huge Van Gogh fan, and I like him too.  Also, an "immersive experience," whatever that was, seemed intriguing.  Finally, we'd marked our last two anniversaries with takeout.  Maybe it was time for a risk.        

So I ordered the tickets, and we embarked upon our day of, as the husband put it, "culture and COVID."  It goes without saying that we had a wonderful time, as evidenced by this pic of us posed at the café table in the gift shop.  An older couple took it for us after asking us to take one of them.  And yes, we whipped off our masks for the second or so it took to "click."  Like I said, risk ruled the day.

The first part of the exhibit was a room filled with texts about Van Gogh's life interspersed with empty picture frames for photo ops.  But the main event was an enormous room, which was first superimposed with Van Gogh's self portraits.  This was probably the most iconic, and my favorite:  

In some portraits he looked angry, in others old, and, yes, in one his head was bandaged because he'd cut off his ear.  Yet although his faces were both magnificent and haunting, part of me was wondering, is this it?  Then the colors shifted, filling the entire room, floor and all, with a breathtaking landscape.  I actually gasped, causing a teen sitting on the floor to shoot me a dirty look.  I scooted away, not wanting her to harsh my mellow. 

This painting and the many that followed jibed with one of my favorite blurbs from the previous room about Van Gogh's gift for making the ordinary extraordinary:

Not surprisingly, I liked the sunflowers best of all:

And then, of course, there was Starry Night.  Painted from Van Gogh's view from his room in the asylum, it epitomizes finding light in the dark:

People always think of Van Gogh as the crazy guy who cut off his ear and eventually took his own life, but Beyond Van Gogh shows us a hopeful, sensitive artist who never stopped believing in the power of his vision.  And that's beautiful.  

As is this pic of the husband at the entrance -- yes, playing up the auricular angle.  Check out that crazy casino carpet!  

This wouldn't be a Tote Trove post if I didn't 1) show off my gift shop buy (a scrunchie!) and 2) expound upon my outfit.  As we were leaving the immersion room, the docent (not sure if that's the right word for a casino showing, but whatevs) stopped me and asked, "Did you wear that sunflower barrette just for today?"  I nodded.  "And the dress, too?"  Again, I confirmed.  She smiled and then said, "Thank you."  I was a little embarrassed but nonetheless pleased.  

Necklace: The Tote Trove; Sunglasses: Party City; Flower clip: The Tote Trove; Bangles: B Fabulous; Ring: Mixit, JCPenney

Dress: So, Kohl's; Bag: Dancing Days, Banned, Modcloth

Flipflops: Katy Perry Collection (they smell like pineapples!)

Even after we left the Hard Rock, there was one more piece of art to see.  I was absolutely delighted by this colorful food hut, which I caught outside the window as we exited the city:

On the way home, we stopped for an outdoor meal at this blessedly deserted spot, followed by dessert at Rita's:

It was a lovely nine-year anniversary celebration, not to mention a lovely nine years.  

And maybe Van Gogh is a little bit like Dupree after all.  Misunderstood but following the beat of his own brilliant drum, riding Hokusai's waves out to sea.

Sunflowers snapped at the farm stand a couple of Sundays ago.

Duck Duck Truce: Crayon Box Rocks

Welcome to another exciting edition of rhyme time!  That's right, I wrote a new poem, and it's about the duck decoys on my mantel.  They say that when you spend a lot of time alone, you start talking to yourself and/or inanimate objects.  In this case, the objects are talking to me -- or rather, to another inanimate object, my faux forsythia wreath.  Anyhoo, I call the poem Flighty Ducks Get Their Wings Clipped -- for reasons that will soon be clear.

The four little ducks
In this pic had a fight
Each wouldn't give in,
Each thought he was right.

But the wreath below them
Was upset by their strife
And said they should stop
If they valued their life.

That gave the ducks pause
And they shut their beaks
For only fools quack
When a wise woman speaks.

The wreath smiled sweetly
And glowed like the sun
She wasn't just decor
For good times and fun.

I was once like you,
She told the four ducks
Ungrateful and selfish
And out for big bucks.

But then a wise antelope
Showed me the way
And soon I gave thanks
For each gift of a day.

Thank you, wreath lady
Chorused the quartet
We'll be good to each other,
We'll be our best yet.

No need to thank me
Replied the gold wreath
Just help one another
And treasure your teeth.

"Wait, what?" said the ducks.  "We don't have any teeth!"

But the wreath was already gone.  In her place was the grinning face of Emilio Estevez.  His smile was mostly toothless, and The Mighty Ducks theme song was playing in the background.  The duck decoy on the end screamed; the duck next to him muttered that he would've preferred to hear music from St. Elmo's Fire. 

Me too, duck one space from the end, me too.

This post isn't just about repentant waterfowl and underdog athlete flicks.  It's also about Crayola crayons and the Hard Rock Casino, two artsy icons at opposite ends of the rainbow paint palette spectrum.  Crayons are wholesome (even when eaten, they're nontoxic), whereas rock and roll is all rebel yell (although I realize how unhip it is to reference Billy Idol instead of Billie Eilish).  They have nothing in common.  Except for maybe when the waitress at the Hard Rock Cafe brings little Katie a pack of crayons.   

Well, that and they're both built for expression.  Which is obvious given my unfortunate air guitar performance in the pic above.  The husband took it back in January, or, as I like to call it, "the time that came before" (the coronavirus).  And although it's true that I had a good time, it wasn't as good as the time I'm having now.

Right, Emilio?

I quack myself up.