Pr3++yG33kyTh1ng

This is it. Today, Bill Gates will be on the Daily Show. While he is supposed to be discussing the Windows Vista launch, we all know his real reason is to finally meet up with John Hodgman. This meeting of Bill Gates and the "I'm a PC" guy will either be really funny or cause a massive rip in the space/time continuum which will pull us all into a hellish form of unlife in some demented quasi-dimension. Either way, I'll download the episode later.
If you are reading this post after Monday and missed it, shame on you for not checking here everyday.
Yesterday we visited the museum district. Every time in memory we have gone it has been to attend the rarely updated Museum of Fine Arts. I know it counts as a real museum, but it comes off as more of a gallery full of snooty people. One time, Gwynyth touched a Georgia O'Keeffe with her tiny toddler hand. She doesn't remember it, but I'm sure the people who were standing next to us at the time do. I thought they might die. I was a little dismayed that they did not.
Anyway, we went to the real museum. Important lessons? Dinosaurs are awesome. Gwynyth and I discussed which would make the best mount for a ninja, either fleshy and alive or in awesome bone form. We decided the Proto-Sloth was impressive but probably lacked the speed to get a ninja rider anywhere in a hurry. Ninjas, much like I.T. people, have schedules to keep and people to assassinate. It is our way.
We also visited the Holocaust Museum of Houston. That was pretty amazing. They have a project going on where they are collecting butterflies people make (card stock, cloth, construction paper) with the goal of displaying 1,500,000 - One for every child killed.
We spent the morning making our three and delivered them.
The display, when complete, will be incredible. 1.5 million butterflies is hard to imagine. It is harder to imagine 1.5 million children.
The whole thing was pretty hard to explain to a seven-year-old. Seven-year-olds are a lot like grown-ups in that way.
Of course, there was a break between museums at a little coffee shop in the Montrose area.
As Shana stepped up and ordered what turned out to be a surprisingly bitter French Roast, I visited the Men's room to learn new, surprising and (I hope) physically impossible things from the graffiti scrawled on every surface.
I'd seen much less artistic stuff at the Contemporary Art Museum, but also less disturbing.
When "tagging" seems to actually invade a person's physical space, you know it has made the desired impact. I still feel invaded this morning.