Nothing Says Fine Art Like Lime Green Spandex

I had a few minutes to spare before painting class yesterday evening, so after photographing some delicious full-flowering trees, I swung by the National Portrait Gallery.

I was greeted by a synchronized alien invasion.

Space-age thongs look uncomfortable

The green spandecized invaders were, it turns out, part of a life-sized, living video game. Kids lined up to run through a parade of orange foam wielding troopers.

Run!

Meanwhile, in another part of the galaxy, another complicated ritual was taking place.

Warrior, King, Hipster & Crew

The crowning of a new hipster? Falling stars beaning flowers? Questioning ideas on astronomy?

I couldn't decipher the scene, but an official photographer zipped about documenting it with his impressively long lens.

Spring burst into bloom this week in DC, and the pollen is rushing to our heads, making us goofy with the fever of warmth, waking the slumbering spirit of play.

After a week emcompassing events such as attending my first cocktail party with secret service patrolling the crowd (why yes, they did give me probing looks; I must look shifty when I wear mascara) and a multitude of more mundane conference room meetings, I found I was most in my festive spring element with the alien invaders.

Still: I'm not wearing lime green spandex no matter how many flowers bloom.

Blooming