January 13, 1995
Teresa and I went to see Little Women yesterday in a fit of desperation. We both hated it, and afterwards we saw Croft at the store, and Teresa said, “We saw Little Women. Little Itty Bitty Teeny Tiny Women.” Croft pantomimed squashing a bug on the counter.
“Microscopic Women,” said Teresa.
We also went to the museum to look at a great etching show. I could tell it was great because they had etchings by Rembrandt and Picasso. Of course I have no real interest, just some curiosity, and Teresa was telling me about the technique on each one, and why it was so good. And I said once or twice, “But that’s just skill–who cares about skill?” Teresa loves skill.
See, art bugs me that way. I mean pictures and stuff. I can’t look at them without thinking about how difficult it was to make that thing.
That’s what I like about reading and writing. It’s so close to talking, which everyone does and understands.