On the Pandora.com station that was just magically whirring from outer space, into the pixel machine (i.e. the laptop), just heard and fast forwarded over, Jack Johnson's version of John's Imagine.
Just who in h-e-double-hockey-sticks does this Johnson think he is to do such a smarmed-out version of this already-Perfect tune.

Have been hit up by three orgs this month alone for arts donations, most artists of the Middling City get about twenty appeals per year.
One org, a non-profit, sends out very dry letters but do manage to cross out Dear Artist and replace the word Artist with Nancy.
They don't explain very much about their org and its attendant cause and Yours Truly puts their letter through the shredder and moves on down the line.

Last night's bennie was for the newly historically-designated and listed Trinity Church on Delaware Avenue with loveliness around every corner, and a smattering of Tiffany windows that thee Cam Miller pointed out to me one fine day.
And others of amazing photo-realisticness in the looming faces.

So donated to last night's event, one of the newer industrial images.
And it was purchased by a woman, also an artist, who is a bit of an NJP collector.
She was the purchaser of my lovely art brassiere that was created for a short-lived charity event about seven years ago for breast cancer research.
I believe this amazing bra that YT made is image Googlable: it is b&w photos of various friends' breasts (including one pair that, as luck would have it, were feeding a baby), and cut out in the shape of a 60s bra that was used as a template. Then each piece (and there were many panels in 60s-era bras) were grommeted together - about 125 tiny red grommets in all - and silk ribbon made up the straps.

+ gap of about seven hours here +

Just back from CEPA opening, members' portion in the subterranean portion.
It's a trad and veritable hodgepodge of this & that.
Saw Jan Nagle and we talked as is our fun wont and asked if she had a piece in the mix.
She pointed toward it. Went to look, and noted the BestOf sticker on the base of the monitor showing her work. Saw her again momentarily and congratulated her.
She thought YT was joking and I assured her that I indeed was not.
I said that I would get my cam at the ready and document her surprised face.
And then proceeded to do so.

Met up with Liz out in the suburban regions for a nice late afternoon respite after a very pleasant meeting.
Turned down an invite to fly down snowy hills with pals tomorrow as I have a previous engagement. But do hope to do that, in addition to the snowshoeing, before all the snow goes south, so to speak.

Speaking Love, Turning Love.

That wry little rascal, Ridge Lee Larry, appeared once again at the BigU for his annual barbecue gala.
Little Larry, who has a place of prominence in a retiree's home alongside a window (nice for view, bad for preservation), was in his little hat and banner.
Each year RLL's keeper digs a faux little hole for him to appear next to, as if he did appear just as his rodent prognosticator in PA does each year.
More snow, less, more weeks, more months.
Who in h-e-double-hockey-sticks can really say.
The Middling City is awash in snow and will continue to be so until quite possibly April.
Little flowers shall appear once again.
The earth will warm up and the wood on the trees and winds will whish a nice scent of new life and possibility.
How is that.
And take that, you stuffed little rodent.
And real one.

About the football game.
As is my wont, I made chili, a nice complex one with a smoldering heat and a nice blend of meats and beans.
Just as complex is the game of football, with a seemingly endless array of rules and such.
The ending was nice with the near-last-minute turnaround of events.
Was the right toe on the ground or not.
The stuff of suspense and dreams.

Before said game spent a few hours listening to the B-3 genius of Doctor Lonnie Smith, who YT kept accidentally referring to as Lonnie Anderson.
This fun fact nearly made Marky Norris spit out his roast beef at Lauren's lovely party.
Visualize: Lonnie Anderson, with that ample ... scorchingly bleached blonde hair and accoutrements behind the B-3.

Love of the beans, the beef, the B-3.
Oh, and the stuffed beast as well.