Going for Baroque

I haven’t had much to say this week, because not much has been going on. I eat, sleep, and breathe wedding planning, and I just can’t blog about that because (a) it makes me so anxious that I want to curl up in the fetal position and sob, and (b) it will bore you to tears (trust me on this one).

The fun part of the planning (the honeymoon) is coming alone nicely. We’re going to Spain. I had to give up my dream of traveling to the Basque country and joining the ETA (jokes, people. Note for the Justice Department: In case you’re reading, I don’t actually plan to join any fringe terrorist groups. Just sayin’.), because it was getting really complicated, but we’re going to spend a night in Madrid (which we hadn’t originally planned to do), so I can go to the Prado and the Thyssen-Bornemisza museums. I had a bit of panic this morning when I realized that our one day in Madrid was a Sunday, and the Prado closes at 2 p.m. on Sundays. But we’ve rearranged our plans so we’ll be there on a Saturday instead. (Lord Kissington nervously asked, “Just how many hours are you planning to spend at the Prado?”) You see, something you probably don’t know about me is that I am obsessed with Baroque art. And Baroque art really flourished in Spain. My favorite painter is a Spaniard, Francisco de Zurbarán. Two other Spaniards are in my top 10 favorite painters (what kind of dork has a top 10 favorite painters list?)—Velazquez and Murillo. (If you click on these links and hate the paintings, all I can say is that Baroque art can be big and florid and even gory, so it’s not for everyone.) We’ll be spending the bulk of our time in Barcelona and Seville. Luckily, both of these cities also have museums with some Baroque paintings, so I should be able to keep busy. I can’t wait to see some of the works by architect Antoni Gaudi in Barcelona, and in Seville, we’ll be checking out the Cathedral, which is supposed to be amazing, and the Alcazar, a medieval castle. There should be plenty of rioja and tapas on the agenda too.

On my way to work this morning, I saw a couple of outfits that gave me pause. I just can’t get into the puffy coat thing. I have an old puffy parka that I wear if there’s a blizzard, but the puffy coat thing just mystifies me. This woman had paired her hideous puffy coat with one of those cotton print puffy stitched purses. Too much puffy, and isn’t that really a summer purse? Then I saw a young woman wearing a very cute green coat. I noted the coat with approval, but then my gaze fell to her legs. She had decided to accessorize the coat with matching green tights. Sorry dear, but that get-up makes you look like one of Santa’s elves. (I often feel like a bitch when I write posts criticizing other people’s clothes. Maybe they are perfectly happy in their clothes, and who am I to tell them what they should wear? On the other hand, does anyone really want to look like an elf?)

The gym was packed again last night. Dammit, people, when are you going to drop your resolutions and go back to your couch? You are taking up valuable gym space. Don’t make me join a real gym.