My guest today is a fellow author, Vicki Batman. Vicki and I share a love of museums, and she’s passed that love along to her sons. The story she tells below makes me smile:
Brushing hands ‘cause I’ve done my job
I am lucky in my town there are many museum choices like a Museum of Natural History, science museum, and museum of art. And in the town nearby, we have additional offerings. I have a need to go to art museums. I can’t draw or paint. But I do like admiring what others have done.
When #1 and #2 sons were old enough, I shared my passion with them, only to get them racing through the exhibit like they were speed dating. What I had I done wrong? Were they too young? Was it boring? They loved to draw and look at art books. I didn’t get it. *pulling my hair*
So for a fabulous exhibit, I took a different tactic: I asked questions and they answered. They studied the painting and how light was used in his work. They took their time. I deemed this trip successful and felt confident we could make additional visits.
One summer, Handsome had a long trip to New York City. I planned to explore Ellis Island, the Statue of Liberty. Take in shows on Broadway. And go to my favorite, the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
When Handsome had a day-long meeting, I decided this would be the perfect time to go to the Met. (I swear they learned speed-dating through museums from him.) First up, the Egyptian stuff. The boys really liked the mummies. Then came the arms and armaments. Afterwards, I suggested my turn, and they agreed, only I didn’t tell them where – the impressionists section.
As I led the way through rooms, they paused, “Look, Mom. A Monet.” Happy, smiles, joy overbubbling with fingers pointing at a masterpiece. I stopped, shocked. They had recognized a Monet? Really? My insides screamed yes!! Brush my palms as I had done my job. I gave them a big mom smile. “You remembered. Wonderful.”
Now, my boys go to all kinds of museums on their own. Sometimes, we talk about our family vacations and especially remember fondly, New York.
“Look, Mom, a Monet” – music to my ears.
What is your favorite museum?
(Vicki, mine is Musee D’Orsay in Paris where I saw the original of Seurat’s “Un dimanche après-midi à l’île de la Grande Jatte”.)
And here is info on Vicki’s latest book:
No man. Bad job. And Murder. Hattie Cooks is still searching for her dream job and one might be available…in the Big Apple, far from friends, family, and Allan Wellborn, the man who still makes her heart race. In the meantime, she finds temporary employment at an accounting firm where two auditor friends turn up dead.
Detective Allan Wellborn dropped Hattie for Blonde Bimbo who, coincidentally, is employed at NLB where fishy things are taking place. When Allan interviews Hattie, he must determine why all signs point to her as a suspect.
Can Hattie discover why Allan dumped her and who is murdering auditors before death strikes again?
Trixie had some nerve.
“Stop it, Hattie!”
Her reprimand, the one which had shot a stabbing pain to my right eye, sounded terribly out of character, like she had little patience for me. Ordinarily, she was the nicest person I knew, didn’t have a mean bone in her body. The kind who rescued animals, picked up trash at Sommerville Park, and prepared food for the elderly.
Not today. I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms across my chest in a school girl flaunt.
Trixie tilted forward in her desk chair, her bosom almost resting on her desk. “This nonsense has to end. Your moan sounded like an obscure breed of a bizarre…untamed…wounded animal.” She returned to an upright and seated position and in tiny increments, rotated her chair from side-to-side, waiting for me to say something not stupid.
In truth, Trixie had pounded the nail on the head. I had nothing to add. My whole life had turned into an obscure, bizarre, bad reflection of itself, thus wounding me to my core. I sighed and pouted an if only.
Don’t go there.
My funsister friend owned the employment agency Jobs Inc., and on occasion, she’d happily assisted me in finding temporary work since my dream job had been flushed down the proverbial toilet a few months back, thus soiling my picture perfect life. For this newest assignment she’d located, I’d be employed as an administrative assistant for the managing partner at Northside, Lancaster, and Brookside, Certified Public Accountants, headquartered in my hometown of Sommerville.
At first, she’d sounded oh-so pleasant when we began our yak about the opportunity. “Think accounting,” she’d teased, followed by a small chuckle.
Her laugh had spoken volumes of Encyclopedia Britannica proportions.
Author bio: Award-winning and Amazon bestselling author, Vicki Batman, has sold many romantic comedy works to the True magazines, several publishers, and most recently, two romantic comedy mysteries to The Wild Rose Press. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and several writing groups. An avid Jazzerciser. Handbag lover. Mahjong player. Yoga practitioner. Movie fan. Book devourer. Cat fancier. Chocoholic. Best Mom ever. And adores Handsome Hubby. Most days begin with her hands set to the keyboard and thinking “What if??”
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