Forget Rent... I'm Moving to the Smithsonian

Note: For the next couple of weeks, I am going to be fairly busy. This weekend I started (finally) finishing up the book in which I compile all the interviews I carried out with my dad about the Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant Disaster. I've been listening to all the interviews again, cleaning up the transcripts, and writing a couple of background chapters. The task is taking me longer than I expected because, frankly, it is somewhat depressing to listen to all of the Fukushima interviews again. I can only handle one or two before I need to take a break. I am persevering, though. I am also busy working on a couple of super secret (for now) guest blog pieces. I'm also doing my regular graduate school work for ~8-9 hours a day. As I work on these other projects, I am going to limit my regular blogging to the geology word of the week and the occasional picture of my summer digs in Laramie, Wyoming. So, to keep my blog readers entertained over the next few weeks, I am going to re-post some geology posts that I wrote on Skepchick before I started a geology blog. The first post is below. This post originally appeared on Skepchick in 2006 here. Enjoy!

Elephant in the Rotunda, Smithsonian Museum of Natural History. Picture taken from wikipedia here.

There is nothing better than having an empty museum all to yourself. If I ever become wealthy, I think that I’ll rent out the great museums of the world at odd hours so that I can quietly appreciate them. Or maybe I’ll just hone my burglary skills and sneak it at night. I’m not interested in stealing anything, just enjoying the richness of the exhibits without all the lines, tourists, and misbehaving toddlers. 

One of my favorite books from childhood is From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, a book about a little girl and her brother who run away from home and live in the Metropolitan Museum of Art for a week or so. After all of the tourists go home for the day, the two children have the run of the museum, bathing in the public fountain, sleeping in an antique bed in one of the exhibits, and generally having a good time with all of the artwork and artifacts. After reading this book, I nearly packed a bag and ran away to the nearest big museum, which fortunately was several hours away. Running away from home is not easily accomplished by an eight-year-old stuck in rural New Hampshire with no public transportation.