When I was a young teenager, I read the most marvelous book. It was about a young girl who, with her brother, ran away from their home in Connecticut to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC. The book detailed how they remained undiscovered for over a week, coming and going and tripping over a great mystery while secreted away themselves.
Over the years, I’ve often thought of the book but could never remember its name.
In September, Roger and took a brief honeymoon weekend in Portland, Maine. I’d always wanted to visit that city’s art museum, so that rainy Sunday we enjoyed the jazz brunch and post-impressionists exhibit. After we’d checked out a good deal of the museum (top notch), we spent a leisurely two hours in the museum gift… Continue reading
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