I love them.
Love them a lot.
Love them enough to get up really early in the morning, fly to Chicago on an airplane, brave Chicago traffic to drive to a museum, pay $45 to park and gain admission at said museum, haul a heavy camera around to take pictures of the dioramas, upload them, edit them, and post them here.
I understand that this will not likely garner me an early admission invitation to the Girls Who Are Popular and Not Weird Club.
And that is OK. Those girls will probably work for me someday.
Yes, I said it.
The nerds rule the world in the end, haven't you heard?
I just returned from a lovely trip to the fair city of Chicago, where the weather was cool, Lake Michigan minty green, the students fun, and the yarn plentiful. (Thank you, Windy Knitty, for inviting me.)
I couldn't pass up the opportunity to visit The Field Museum of Natural History, and the Art Institute of Chicago.
I do like me a good museum. Probably because they have dioramas.
Of buffalo.
And mummies.
Oh, look. Someone's entrails are being removed so their body can be preserved forever!
Sign me up.
The dioramas at The Field Museum are some of the best miniatures I've seen. (Some of the best life-sized dioramas are at the Royal British Columbia Museum, if you're a nerd like me.)
Why do these give me such a thrill?
Hard to say. It probably has something to do with my eye for detail and my childhood aspiration -- heck, my adult aspiration -- to be a museum curator. Who gets to create these? Who? I've never met a diorama maker. Are you out there?
I even like the life sized dioramas. Although this really could have been taken in any one of 60 places in my hometown. (Are deer that rare in Chicago? They need to be preserved in a museum?)
Heck, I've seen about ten of these in my very own yard.
Oh, hello. Yes, go ahead and sleep in my yard again. Don't let the dog bother you. She only comes up to your shoulder and has sharp incisors.
Oh, you won't? Well, that's a huge relief. I was just thinking that what my life is suffering from is a dearth of deer.
Especially of the largest deer that ever lived. I'm really quite surprised there's not a herd of them living behind the garage.
Do you know what the largest deer that ever walked the earth are called?
Irish.
I can't make these things up. Of course the largest deer that ever lived are called Irish deer. Of course.
Who gets to name these things? Who? I've never met a deer namer. Are you out there?
I think I need to just get on the ball and become a diorama maker/deer namer.
Sitting around waiting for these opportunities to come to me is not very efficient. I've found that things actually happen when you make them happen. Much like the yarn actually looks much prettier if I dye it rather than sitting around wondering why the yarn is not pretty.
(I have found the cure for inertia! Do something! Do anything! Even if it's the wrong thing. Even if you don't have every square centimeter of a plan mapped out. The way to get unstuck is to move in any direction at all. The worst that can happen is that you realize your mistake and move in a different direction.)
So, diorama. Done.
And the deer is named...
Bob.
And that, my fellow Office fans, is what they call, Boom. Roasted.