The Case of the Crate and Barrel Bird
I returned home from school happy and hungry. This is not unusual. In fact, nothing was unusual about my return--a bit of rain, a wet bicycle, a couple close calls with automobiles, a wave here and there, etc. I entered through my door, checked my ant situation (ants tend to dominate my kitchen area at times--they find a speck of sugar and fight to the death for a chance to feed), and set my bag down in my room. Then I went into my kitchen, grabbed a piece of bread, and filled my empty belly. Nothing unusual until a glance at the bird. "The bird" is actually an ornament my sister gave me which I brought down to Honduras mistakenly. It's hard to explain why it's in my kitchen window...I have beers and other man things here so I believe it balances out. Anyway, my masculinity is not what's important. The bird was no longer in my window, shining with the brilliance of the sun, but hanging out on my sponge. How could this have happened? Lets check the photos:
Archive Photo: View of bird in window
Archive Photo: View of bird in window
Bird on Sponge--as was when I returned
View from outside apartment--note bird hanging from bars
Bird in window. Note sponge, screen.
The question is: how did the bird make it from outside my apartment, through my screen and finally at rest on my sponge? It is not easy to undo the bird from it's spot from outside--one must hold themselves up with one arm with figuring out my complicated hanging system. This might sound harsh, but I'm not sure that Hondurans are capable of such hard work for so little payoff. The mastermind behind this knows that I will not rest until I find the answer. Help me solve the mystery!
posted by Micah at 2:57 PM
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6 comments
Although I’ve been indirectly witnessing the spiraling downfall of the global economy from the mouth of wolf blitzer through the lights and sounds of my 1980s Panasonic, I‘ve still felt close to the situation. It has been a rather frightening reality to be living in such fragile times, especially as I am in a country far removed from the securities of home. Even so, I haven’t felt the crisis really hit me until I this past Sunday when I received an email from my somber brother-in-law alerting me of the closing of Alpinist Magazine. “Holy crap,” I probably whispered to myself as the tears dammed up inside my eyes. I can’t be sure if any single tear escaped, but I’m sure that I do not regret it if it did. $2.4 trillion dollars of losses in two weeks? Swept to the side of my mind. Giant portfolio losses among the blue hairs? Sad, I guess. Loss of thousands of jobs worldwide? I do feel sorry for their families….but for some reason I’m most pissed (so far) about Alpinist. Alpinist has brought me so much joy the past couple years that has not been matched by any amount of Halo, Simpsons, Batman, ESPN, New York Times, JBU Advocate, Wes Anderson, Andrew Bird or any other media in the world. Why was it so important? First, it provided the one outlet for adventure dreaming without the corporate BS of other publications. There are other climbing magazines, but none so purely captivated the essence and purity of the mountain like Alpinist.
