The day showed such promise...
Dec. 12th, 2011 07:31 pmNo work had come in by the "usual" time, so the idea began to liven that perhaps today would be the day to head for Manhattan, especially as, over the weekend, I got it into my head to visit either the Metropolitan Museum of Art or the American Museum of Natural History, or both.
Then it occurred to me that the only real reason I had a hankering to visit the latter was as a sort of return to my childhood, when—fresh from reading a book written by Roy Chapman Andrews about his adventures finding fossils in the Gobi Desert—I wheedled my mother into taking me to the museum, where I stood and gaped, open-mouthed, at the dinosaur skeletons on display there.
Now, there's nothing wrong with gaping at a skeleton of Stegasaurus, but I've noticed, over the past decade or so, that I am drawn more to the tappings, scratchings, daubings, etchings, castings, and so on that make up human art, so if there was to be an order in which I would go to these museums, it would be to the Met first, and then to Natural History.
As it turns out, the Web informs me that while the latter is open daily, the former is—get ready for it—closed Mondays. Throw in a need to run some errands, and any potential trip got put off at least one day (for one never knows... work may come busting through the pipe tomorrow, and I am not yet so financially secure as to turn down work just for fun).
Today is, yes, another one of those pesky birthdays. Family far and wide got in touch early to wish me the best returns of the day. I appreciate that. As it turns out, this birthday is the one that can be evenly divided by 3, 4, and 5, so I've also been getting some good-natured ribbing about having crossed some theoretical, non-existent threshold. Funny thing, though... I don't feel any better or worse, necessarily, as a result.
So I'm just going to do my best to keep on keeping on.
Cheers...
Then it occurred to me that the only real reason I had a hankering to visit the latter was as a sort of return to my childhood, when—fresh from reading a book written by Roy Chapman Andrews about his adventures finding fossils in the Gobi Desert—I wheedled my mother into taking me to the museum, where I stood and gaped, open-mouthed, at the dinosaur skeletons on display there.
Now, there's nothing wrong with gaping at a skeleton of Stegasaurus, but I've noticed, over the past decade or so, that I am drawn more to the tappings, scratchings, daubings, etchings, castings, and so on that make up human art, so if there was to be an order in which I would go to these museums, it would be to the Met first, and then to Natural History.
As it turns out, the Web informs me that while the latter is open daily, the former is—get ready for it—closed Mondays. Throw in a need to run some errands, and any potential trip got put off at least one day (for one never knows... work may come busting through the pipe tomorrow, and I am not yet so financially secure as to turn down work just for fun).
Today is, yes, another one of those pesky birthdays. Family far and wide got in touch early to wish me the best returns of the day. I appreciate that. As it turns out, this birthday is the one that can be evenly divided by 3, 4, and 5, so I've also been getting some good-natured ribbing about having crossed some theoretical, non-existent threshold. Funny thing, though... I don't feel any better or worse, necessarily, as a result.
So I'm just going to do my best to keep on keeping on.
Cheers...
no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 01:37 am (UTC)But on reflection, I think you are merely 359 days older than I am. I wonder what advantage lies in that excess time on earth. (Or alternatively, what excess trouble you've found time to engage in?)
*I am a prime number!
no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 01:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 04:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 11:23 am (UTC)Cheers . . . . .