This is a painting titled “The Field” by T. Peters. It was painted in 1987. I know this because it is written on the back of the canvas, in pen. I think it is a very beautiful painting. I bought it from an old woman (T. Peters, I assume) in New York City. She had a small display set up along the wall that divides Central Park from 5th Avenue. Assuming I purchased it the same year it was painted, I would have been 10 or 11. I don’t know how old the old woman was, but I guess I wanted to encourage her artistic endeavors. She told me that the building in the painting is not a house, but a shed, because it does not have any windows. The painting had a white mat around it and instead of having a piece of glass or plastic protecting its front, it was covered carefully in saran wrap. For many years, it hung on the wall next to my bed. Just recently I had a new, proper mat cut for it and framed it in a proper frame. It is hanging by my bed again.
Sadly, the Waynesboro wildlife center just called to tell me that Hebron, the little Easter bat, passed away this morning. Apparently he was too cold and dehydrated to make it. Poor Hebron. Perhaps one day he will rise again since he was, after all, an Easter bat.
Today, Hayley and Liz and I went to the Hebron Baptist Church for Easter services. Before the service started I found a small brown bat lying in the parking lot. It was freezing cold out and at first I thougth he was dead, but then I noticed he was breathing. Hayley scooped him up with a piece of plastic and deposited him in an old Ugg shoe box that Liz had in her car (ha ha, Liz has Uggs). After church, we took the bat to the wildlife center in Waynesboro. They said he seemed OK and that they would fatten him up and then release him. Apprently, the weather we are having (really warm out and then suddenly really cold) causes a lot of problems for bats, because they unhibernate, innocently enjoy the high temperatures, and then turn into little bat popsicles when the temperature unexpectedly drops. Poor bats.
I have named the bat Hebron. Here is a picture:
Interestingly, or not, depending on your point of view, Hebron is not the first bat I have found.
Once when I was little I was walking in Central Park with my mom and I saw a small brown bat lying on the ground. He seemed hurt and we did not know what to do. My mom wanted to kill him, because she thought he was suffering, but by this time a small crowd had gathered and they were against any type of bat murder. It was decided that my mom and I would stay with the bat while another man went to find a park ranger. As we were sitting there, watching the bat, he suddenly got up, scampered a few feet, and then flew away. We were quite happy at this turn of events, but soon grew concerened that when the man and the park ranger returned, they would think we had killed the bat against their wishes. We waited a while but soon became bored (because there was no longer a bat to look at) and wanted to leave. So, we left a note on the ground that said “Mr., the bat flew away.” I think we also drew a picture of a flying bat.
I have no idea if the man ever returned and found that note, but if he did, I hope he believed it.
Today I was talking with my friend Mary, and we were lamenting the fact that we did not make it out west this year on our Annual National Parks Tour. She suggested that next year we go to Yosemite, and then she sent me this awesome email:
fyi, this is what we would look like in yosemite. only older, wiser and hotter. we should totally plan on going next year.
Here is what we might look like in some other places we’ve never been. Many thanks to Mary for her mad skills with the photoshop.
I just discovered that this adorable beaver-like mammal (BLM) lives right behind my building. I can see the door to his/her house from my balcony. We are neighbors! Here is a photo – he/she is right there in the middle. I always thought that big pile of crap that the beaver is emerging from was just…well…a big pile of crap that my neighbors for some reason kept in their yard. But now, I am thinking maybe it is a specially-constructed beaver house. I know they have a chicken in their yard, because it squawks and wakes me up every morning, so maybe they are animal lovers and thus are prone to doing things such as building beaver abodes.
For the past three weeks we have been playing Tuesday night trivia and we have won two times. I sure have a smart bunch of friends. Tonight, not only did we win the game, but we won the 25 cent shots round. None of us wanted shots, so we had 25 cent decaf coffees instead. Here is a cool picture that John drew of South America to help us answer a question about the Andes, as well as some computations I performed to figure out the square root of 2.
I have a state quarter collection. Almost every single person I know criticizes me for this, I don’t know why. There are two versions of each state coin – one from the Denver mint and one from the Philadelphia mint. Since I live on the east coast, it is fairly easy to find the Philadelphia versions of the coins. It is harder to find the Denver versions. When I was out west this summer, I gathered a bunch of Denver versions, and I just today got around to putting them in my state quarter book. Here are the Denver versions that I was able to add:
Here are the Denver editions that I still need to find:
- West Virginia
- All of 2006, 2007, 2008
Elizabeth told me something interesting today. She said that if you have allergies, you should eat locally produced honey. It helps to immunize you against the pollen of local flowers. I don’t know if this is true or not, but it’s a cool idea. They have self-serve local organic honey at Integral Yoga – we made a mess filling up one of those plastic honey bears.
To commemorate this day, I have drawn this picture of a bee.
This weekend the stupid b*tch who lives above me was being so noisy, and so was her dog (another stupid bitch, HA). Then on Saturday morning she went out and the dog was home alone, and it was running back and forth and barking and howling and I really wanted to get a gun and shoot right through the ceiling. Instead, I banged on the ceiling with my umbrella. The umbrella broke, and then a sharp piece of it went through my hand. And then like 10 gallons of blood came out of my hand and onto the floor. Ow.
Then, I was so mad I decided to call the police to see if I could file some sort of noise complaint. So I called 911, but then I hung up right away cuz I felt bad about tying up the 911 line with an obvious non-emergency.
As I was looking through the phone book for the non-emergency police number (with blood still pouring out of my hand) 911 called me BACK, but when I tried to answer the phone it was broken and wouldn’t pick up. So 911 left me a message saying they were sending emergency personel out to my apartment. And I’m thinking great, when they get here and find me covered in my own blood, clutching a broken umbrella, and hysterical over a barking dog they are going to lock me up.
But I called 911 back and straightened it all out.
I hate stupid b*tches.