This past week my mom came up and visited, and after she left I promptly bought a bottle of wine. Actually, it was two bottles, just to be sure; you know how these things are! I only drank one…and a half. Overall, you could say it was fun!

While she was here we did all sorts of fun things, including frolicking in the sunflowers, suntanning on a beach and shoveling snow. Well, that last idea is the only probable one because it’s the MIDDLE. Of. Winter.

We did all the usual things, like go shopping and whatnot, and then we went to the Milwaukee Art Museum, or, better known as (BKA) the Milwaukee Museum of Artistic Adventures. We also went to the Domes, but I figured I would save those pictures for another post; I’m running out of my stored posts, alright?!

So, this is the actual building, and I must say, it is JUST…like that. However you want to interpret it. When you go inside, it’s a tiny desk and elevator music playing softly in the background as you walk in to this HUGE fake-marble hall. Of course, that big white ship-looking building isn’t even the art museum itself, oh no, they have you walk down this long hallway into the rejected art building made of mud and bricks, no, bricks and mortar, erm…rejected art and rubber glue, dammit! Well, the hall was nice enough, anyways.

That is looking out into Lake Michigan. I have to say it was a terribly overcast day, and I did a bit of doctoring techniques I learned in Photoshop recently from a library book. Not half-bad, eh?

That is looking up at the ceiling, it seems to go on FOREVER.

But, it doesn’t.

The conversation kinda went like this:
Mom: Jillian, why is there a guy standing over there?
Me: Looks like a Janitor.
Mom: I think it’s ‘art’…?
Me: Uhm, well, if it isn’t he is standing awfully still…

We walk over, and there is a guard standing RIGHT next to the guy. I couldn’t believe how realistic it looked! As tall as a regular human, and it looks EXACTLY like a janitor. The sign next to him says that his clothes are fashioned from a janitor in the 1970’s-era. There is a sign next to him, demonstrating what human contact can do to destroy an art piece. The guy is really, REALLY interesting, and in great condition, considering the amount of time it has stood without any rope surrounding it, and how many people have visited the museum, etc.

These TV’s were in a HUGE room, must’ve been stacked about 20 feet high, and all displaying different pictures at different points in time, really interesting to stare at, it was almost like a reverse lava-lamp, instead of it being soothing or calming and not being able to take your eyes off of it, you can’t take your eyes off of it because you are trying to catch a glimpse of all of the images whizzing past the TV’s. The room was dead-silent, no noise from any of the TV’s, just images flickering very fast.

Suddenly, I hear something faint, coming from behind me. I turn around to find the source, and I see a doll sitting on the ground, with a chair toppled over. I guess a famous artist is known for projecting faces onto dolls, it was rather creepy. As I got closer, one could hear what sounded like a monotonous speech coming from a small tape recorder on the floor by the doll, which was part of the ‘art’. It said things like “I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough”, and “I just wanted it all to end”. Let’s just say I moved on quickly from that one.

Now THIS, THIS was weird, man. It was call “infinity”, and created in the 60’s. It’s an entirely glass box, where one has to put on these ’slippers’ to get inside the box, and only two people are allowed at a time because of weight limit or whatnot, but man, that is what was inside. At first I like “No, I’m not going in there,” because you look down and you just see these, well, you know it was lights but it looked like it fell into nothing.

In the end my mom literally had to PULL me into the box; I have to say it resembled too much like a very high bridge for my comfort, not stable at all and if it broke I would fall into nothing, FOREVER! The only way I went into that stupid box was to tell myself over and over again that the floor is below, and NOT nothingness. Really odd feeling of floating-type when you went inside and pulled the black flap closed.

This was pretty cool, called “The Matrix”. I was leading in front, going through the Matrix-like hall. When my mom said to ‘keep going’ because the path wasn’t through yet, I stopped suddenly, looked up and said “Mom, It’s a ROOM”. I too thought it was mirrors and lights like how the “Infinity” box was set up, but it was an actual room filled with these strands of blue lights shimmering oddly. The room was HUGE!

Annnddd finally I give you, what I thought was one of the cooler ‘artworks’, it was just this giant table filled with glass objects.

I know you can’t see it very well, but this is a close-up of one of the objects on the table; it’s a fruit bowl with glass apples, glass grapes, etc. VERY cool. Some of it was cracked around the edges, I wasn’t sure if it was done on purpose or if some stupid art-goer did it, but either way most of the glass objects were intact and it was nice!

Overall, I had a lot of fun, at the art museum, with my mom (and the tequila that followed…). I’d have to say, mission, accomplished!

Once a month on Sunday, I volunteer at an Assisted Living place. Ironically enough, they selected me to run the Ice Cream Parlor for the whole shift on Sunday (it’s open every day from 2-4PM).

Driving slowly, deeper into Milwaukee, I note that the only thing marking my way into the run-down neighborhoods is a rusted green bridge with graffiti all over it. I drive past dozens of run-down houses and apartments, with people out front smoking, kids playing in the nearby trickle of water that, I’m sure, during the summer is a small stream. A bunch of people are gathered inside the small, stained glass building where a bus stops nearby; a couple is arguing, very loudly, right in front of a Walgreens, all the while a car sits nearby, blasting it’s bass. It seems odd that a five-building nursing home/assisted living place, a place where things happen slowly and calmly, is situated in a place like this.

I have no idea why I decided to do this four months ago, I guess I was just looking for something to do. Boredom is probably a good factor in that decision.

“Hello Jillian,” Charlotte says happily. She’s, SURPRISE, an older woman whom, I swear, has a copy of my schedule. I pass her quickly in the hallway with a curt, “Hello”; I’m late…again. I get the money box out of it’s appropriate spot and head back down the hallway. Charlotte jumps up as if seated on a hedgehog and starts down the hallway with her walker.

She always orders the same thing, a single-scoop of butter pecan ice cream in a sugar cone. For 35 cents.

No, I’m not kidding.

The prices are so low I wonder most days how in the hell they make money. The most expensive thing on the menu is a double-scoop hot fudge sundae for 1.35 - let’s just say normally I buy myself an ice cream, or…six.

Let’s fast-forward an hour later from opening…

I’m trying to hold everything together, but I’ve got people lined up 5-deep, and another group in the back who’s been waiting FOREVER. I don’t think I’ve ever been this busy…EVER.

“Miss, I didn’t get my…”
“…single-scoop of vanilla and a single-scoop vanilla hot-fudge sundae,” The woman finishes. I’m scribbling with my stubby pencil as fast as I can.
“Can I get a straw please?”
“…we’ve been waiting here –”

“Must be the weather,” Charlotte yells over the crowd. She’s situated in her usual spot at the end of the bar. I nod at her and laugh, all the while the woman waiting for her order is shoving a five into my face and looking murderous.

“Ma’am…you’re going to have to relax a bit, I’m a little busy,” I say.

“But…I’ve been waiting here for 5 minutes! What’s the hold-up?!” The soccer-mom screeches, clearly having a Starbucks withdraw. I turn around slowly and stare at the raging crowd around her.

“You’re…joking right?” I say incredulously. Without another word of explanation, I snap back around and continue making the hot-fudge sundae.

“Can I get a straw?” I hear someone yell. I turn around and am facing about 20 people gathered around the ice-cream bar.

“…also I need a spoon.”
“Where’s my chocolate malt?” A man nearby says
“Can I get a towel over here?”
“This doesn’t have enough milk…”
“…I want a hot-fudge sundae mommy!” A little boy says, tugging at her mother. She points at him, and starts to give her own order out, but I can’t hear her over the noise.
“How much do I owe again…?”
“Ma’am, my CHANGE,” The woman with the 5-spot wails, waving her money towards me.

“ALRIGHT,” I say, banging my fist on the counter a few times. The whole parlor falls silent. Even the card game has stopped. “Everyone needs to RELAX.”

The woman with the five slams it onto the counter and stalks off to her table. I start to feel some heat creep up into my cheeks and neck, but I try to ignore both that and the woman’s gesture, and continue.

“Listen, as you can all clearly see I’m a LITTLE busy here, which means that you wait time is AT LEAST five minutes,” I say, with a significant look towards Starbucks Soccer-mom. She glares back at me, unmoving. “If you could all quiet down a notch I would be able to hear a lot better, anddd that means ice cream faster!”

I turn back around and start to make change for the angry starbucks woman and finish up the hot-fudge sundae; I try to ignore the fact that the chatter is a lot quieter now. When I turn back around, I’m expecting to take on the full-fledged mob. However, everyone who was crowded around the ice-cream bar looking like a riot was about to start, is now in a line. I stare as the line winds around the bar, by Charlotte. She looks surprised, too.

“Wow, where’d you get THAT skill?” She asks, looking at me with with an odd expression.

“Erm…” I say, a little surprised by my sudden authoritative skill as well, “I…”

“Thanks for the ice-cream,” The little boy interrupts, taking his sundae and handing me some change. Pretty much everyone in that line gave me a tip of some sort, which was equally surprising. I just donated it to the manor, since all the proceeds from this place go there anyways.

At the end of the day, I write down how much I made, as is required, and leave 20 dollars worth of change in the box. On average, on the Sunday that I work, I pull anywhere between 15-20 dollars in profit, 20 dollars is a little on the high side.

Today, I made 37 dollars.