Excuse me, are you German?

And so begins a conversation with a very friendly older gentlemen in the Lehman Collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  It would have been a fun conversation if he'd let me get a word in, but the gentleman seemed primed to extol the virtues of all things Deutsch, and after a few feeble attempts at participating I gave up,  especially since the man was standing far too close to me (NOT a german trait) and I was worried if I said anything at all, he'd accidentally move and our noses would touch.  At the end of what was a five minute monologue, with me standing perfectly still, he asked if I'd like to keep in touch via email.  My mundane answer, "probably not".  He cheerfully moved on.

I went to the Met this afternoon at the prompting of my sister Dora (thanks, D!) and paid a whopping $1 at the suggestion of my friend Andrea.   I felt cheap when I did it, but it does feel wonderful to walk in, knowing you only need to spend about 15 minutes in the place before you get your money's worth.  I decided to make a close inspection of the Lehman Collection because I hadn't seen it before and it was in a beautiful new wing.  Lehman seemed to be an avid collector of Madonna and Child church art and the Met had several dozen different pieces displayed over the course of several rooms.  I have a general dislike for the genre, since it makes Jesus, and practically everyone else, look like a passive wuss.  But it does intrigue me-- why did a successful business tycoon collect these?

Also on today's agenda was a fulfillment of a promise to my friend Staci to visit a bakery that kept showing up when I pulled up my apartment location on Google Maps, Orwasher's Bakery, which is maybe four blocks away from me (which, I'm starting to realize, is the LA equivalent of the next town over.  I talked to a girl on the cross-town bus on the way to church and she acknowledged this startling fact-- the one block radius around your place is your neighborhood, you know it intimately, but any further out and it gets vague.  I may be overstating this, but I passed five bakeries on my way to Orwasher's.)  Orwasher's lays claim to the title "Oldest Artisan Bakery in New York City" and it certainly was delicious.  I had a not-too-sweet Boston Cream Donut and cup of coffee for a mid-morning snack.  Thanks, Staci.

And I am ready to announce a major achievement-- I actually practiced in the apartment today.  My ex-housemates know what a major accomplishment this is-- I am shy about practicing where people can hear me and can't escape me.  Will I dare tomorrow?  Only the shadow knows.  But it sure beats renting a studio in mid-town.

So, if anyone's reading this and wants to suggest an outing for me, I'm happy to do it and then post it on the blog. I'm already tracking down a statue in the Time Warner Building for Karen.  Any takers?

Finally, this is half a block down from me...curious?  I am.