imaginary outfit: print fair

Today's adventure: the Fine Print Fair at the Cleveland Museum of Art. I've wanted to go for years and never managed it, but I will be there this morning with my toddler traveling companion.

In my Mitty-esque daydreams, I somehow make it out of the house looking chic in a camel cardigan with a tiny gold porcupine pinned to the pocket. I keep Hugh delighted and amused as we drive to the art museum with riveting tales of imagined raccoons (every thing is raccoons right now), and after I get him snapped in the stroller, he falls into an adorable and tranquil sleep during the short walk from parking to the museum. I walk through the door, whereupon someone hands me a glass of a chilled Grüner Veltliner and I have all the time I want to peruse prints (I find underpriced gems, of course), and chance into informative and charming small talk with a number of art dealers, one of whom offers me a job on the spot that will involve lots of reading and looking at art, and that will require me to be in a beautiful, light-filled office stacked with old auction catalogs three days a week that is conveniently near excellent coffees and pastries. I say I'll think it over, and then, behind a large potted palm, I find a glorious spread of cheese, cured meats, and fresh fruit, and after I eat Hugh wakes up, sweet and smiling, and when I ask him if he'd like to walk through the galleries he says, "Yes, mama."

None of this will happen (well, the raccoon stories are a sure thing) but I am planning on going anyway. After two years and two months of parenthood, I've realized that if I wait to feel ready, we end up staying home.

Some other odds and ends:
Happy weekend.