I was wrong (again), there wasn’t any under the table texting, just Tony kicking me when I was on the precipice of being embarrassing. Kip’s new girlfriend (a very poised and intelligent young lady) mentioned during our dinner at Greens that . . . .I just read this entry to Tony and he’s kicking me again so I have edited out what she mentioned . . . . My side of the conversation was, “So has your father met Kip, the un-Republican, Vegan, working for a non-profit, and headed for the Middle East with the Peace Corps?”
Then came the kick under the table (there will probably be a bruise) . . . amazingly I stopped my line of questioning. Those of you who know me, know this was done purely out of my love for Kip and the fact that I had to practically pinky-swear that I would not embarrass him (ironically, my all time most embarrassing moment happened when I was nine months pregnant with Kip: I was trying on a flannel shirt in Eddie Bauer – it looked so cozy – over my sweater. It was too tight, so I pulled it off over my head. Unfortunately, my sweater came off with it, and my arms got tangled up over my head and I was stuck there: half naked in my maternity bra with the tag of my sweater taunting me as it dangled just above the bridge of my nose. The truly unfortunate part was that I was not in a fitting room which the nice young salesman pointed out as a parade of Christmas shoppers gawked at me through the giant, plate glass store window). So I didn’t press her for information about her dad, and I didn’t tell her that Eddie Bauer story.
Thanks to this very sweet and beautiful young woman (she’s an art major), we visited SFMOMA for the first time. There were some fun exhibits which included paintings like this; a happy reminder that us old folks are now “retro.”
There were also some very touching and disturbing exhibits; among them very personal photos of the Katrina aftermath (mostly messages on abandoned and not so abandoned homes, “I’m in here and I have a gun” or reports on how many dead inside or how insurance didn’t live up to its end of the bargain), and portraits of individuals along with messages from refugees who are living through the genocide (for lack of a better word) in DR Congo. How is it that we (and I mean we as in me) are so comfortable ignoring what is happening in Congo?
Made me very proud of Kip’s choices in life,