have figured out why artists paint self portraits.

Cheap models.

an insightful lecture about Zombies from oldest child, I got a fashion show primer from only girl, and the continual and completely contagious smile from middle child.  And then, and THEN the baby.   Seven years behind the rest, he swoops in and steals the show.  As my mom always said, no matter how much siblings fight amongst themselves, they all love the baby (that happened to be me in my family, lucky me).  And with those eyes, who wouldn’t?

He liked that the pictures would look ‘like’ Utah, spiking peaks, inked blue sky streaked with puffy clouds.

She didn’t care about the mountains or if the pictures looked ‘like’ Utah.  In fact, I think she preferred if they didn’t.  But she cared about him.  And that was enough.

There was a mommy.

And a Daddy.

And a baby

The baby was well loved by all.  Mommy.  Daddy.  Aunts.  Uncles.  Grandparents.  Nurses.  Doctors.  They prayed and worked and watched to see how long he could stay with them.   But he was very sick.

And had only a short time.

And everyone knew that each moment was a gift.

So they cuddled and cried, rocked and slept, washed and fed him, and dressed him up.

Like Superman.

They said goodbye.  And he flew.

*Photography courtesy of mom and dad.  They asked me to salvage the only pictures they have of their little one.  I wish I could have done so much more.

I’ve been taking advantage of my free days in visiting local museums with hubby.   I tote my camera; he, his sketchbook.  I feel voracious when I enter, duplicating everything I can, stealing inspiration, feeling conspiratorial as if shooting this many pictures is somehow against the rules.  Hubby stands still close to just one piece, replicating each hair, dark with blue pen.  Last week our destination was the Leopold Museum, home to Shiele, Klimt, and the Viennese painters of the secession.  The woman in the lower left corner seems as if she is mad, red dress, turquoise eyes.  She is Shiele’s creation, not mine.  Totally female, I think I’m in love with her.  I’ve always felt that museums were so sterile, so anti-creative.  And they are.  And yet, I’m compelled to see what’s framed and hung on walls.  What is put in boxes and explained in detail too vivid to be true.  And I’ve loved replacing the world they have presented with one of my own, influenced but not confined to their vision.

These teenagers?  I’ll take me a couple of these.  Delightful.

Picturing this encounter just made me laugh.  Here’s the result of this fictitious chance meeting held in my head this morning:

And as a reward for reading the small type here at the bottom, I thought I’d let you know that I’m officially famous!  You hadn’t heard?  Seriously?  For those of you who aren’t familiar with Michelle’s photography, go to her blog today to see proof that:  1. she is indeed brilliant  2. that we’re officially famous.  Not enough incentive?  Ok, then just click to see how a Mormon mom with six kids can DO. IT. ALL.

the bus by three minutes and decide to walk to the store, hungry for the ingredients with which to make tonight’s dinner.   I pass my favorite house in Vienna, a three story, yellow stucco, Spanish-tile-roofed architectural wonder that makes me think of fairy tales.  Another bus stop with no bus, I keep walking; past the shoe stores, the camera shop, the ‘expensive’ grocery store, the pharmacy, the banks, the radiology clinic, the bread shops.  In search of snacks for my littlest, I enter the natural foods store and leave weighed down with my fortune.  At the cheap grocery store, I’m in luck.  They have everything on my list….except basil.  The clerk says ’schoenenTagebenfallsaufweirdersehengruessgott’ in quick succession, half to the man ahead of me and half to me.  I smile, hand her my bills, gather my change, and exit, welcomed again by the sun-streaked city.  In crossing the street, I evade the oncoming street car and head to the Fruit and Vegetable stand.  No basil.  So I trace my steps backward, returning again to the street-of-many-shops and enter the last grocery store on my route.  Only three aisles wide, here is where I find the evasive herb, Organic Basilkum, 2 Euro.