Learning each other ...

Sometimes I forget that I've only known Matt for 28 months. As we settle into our new world together, we're still very much learning each other.  Surprises for me: the depth of Matt's love of classical music and his commitment to keeping farmer's hours regardless of the previous night's bed time. Perhaps my favorite is this: when he opens his eyes every morning, he looks genuinely astonished to see me. And quite pleased.

A couple of days ago, Matt saw a side of his wife that was new to him, too. Every morning, some time between 4:30 and 5:00, we walk down to the lobby to get the newspapers. He reads the Pasadena Star News first, as he is completely charmed by all things local. On this particular morning, I glanced around his elbow to see the words "Vermeer," "on loan," and "Simon Norton Museum" on the front page. Well, let me tell you, he didn't get that newspaper back until I was finished devouring the story and had moved on to the Internet to learn more.

Yesterday, Johannes Vermeer's Girl with Lute was installed in the Norton Simon's 17th century European Paintings gallery. She'll be there for the summer, and I plan to visit her often. In fact, I went yesterday to hear Dr. Walter Lietdke, the Met's Dutch and Flemish curator, speak about the role of women in Vermeer's world, and today, Girl and I spent a bit of time together -- both of us contemplating the whereabouts of our men in distant lands.

I don't remember when I became a Vermeer groupie, but I'm sure it was long before The Girl with Pearl Earring craze. I think it was Matt (brother, not husband) who turned me on to his extraordinary treatment of light and his preoccupation with the middle ground.  Something about Vermeer's paintings stops me in my tracks and insists I look.  In person.  If there's a Vermeer anywhere near, I completely commandeer the conversation of everyone within earshot until plans are settled for a visit. A few years ago, I was in Edinburgh with a teacher friend; when I discovered there was a Vermeer at the National Gallery, my poor friend's plans to visit Sir Walter Scott's and Robert Louis Stevenson's homes were indefinitely put on hold. She was really kind about that (as well as my obsession with Charlotte Bronte -- God forbid a Vermeer should ever show up in Yorkshire).

All this is to say, Matt saw a new side of his wife, one who inexplicably adores the three dozen or so paintings by a seventeenth century Dutch dude. And I saw a side of him that is not new to me but makes me smile -- he made sure I knew how to get to the museum by public transportation.