Ok, no it isn't. That was quite an enjoyable film though. But today was another special occasion, the day when by tradition the Man sticks his head out from under the duvet and looks at the shadows under his eyes to see if he is still 37.
He is! Again! The family rejoices.
It is (or was) also Norman Rockwell's birthday, though we didn't realise that until we visited the museum of his work in Stockbridge, Massachusetts later in the day. It happened that the children had been invited to the house of friends over in that direction, so they got to play there all afternoon while the Man and I visited the art gallery in peace.Norman Rockwell is like Garrison Keillor on canvas - portraits crammed with revealing detail and plenty of humour, too. Rockwell himself never claimed to paint Fine Art, and I'm sure his pictures are too sentimental for many, but he did what he did with incredible skill and accomplishment. We enjoyed our visit.
When we went to pick up the children the Boy greeted us with 'What are you doing back here?' They hadn't missed us too much, then.
Apparently New York won the Superbowl. Go Giants!
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