A Bunch of (Somewhat) Random Sentences

It has been a while since my last post, as my friend Colleen pointed out in a recent comment. I'm touched by the fact that she was concerned, and wasn't merely pointing out that I was lazy.

I was being lazy, sort of. I used to write a column for a newspaper, complete with deadlines. The trouble with deadlines is that, even if you don't have any ideas for a column, you still have to write one. The good thing about deadlines is that, even if you don't have any ideas for a column, you still have to write one. I couldn't let nineteen days just slip past without a word.

That's why I'm writing this post, even though I don't know what I intend to write about.

Tuesday Weld was born on a Friday.
Mouse sex only lasts five seconds.
Rats can't vomit, which is why poison is so effective against them.
Andrew Jackson took part in more than 100 duels.
75% of Earth's creatures are insects.
It's illegal to dance to The Star Spangled Banner in some states.
The letter "Q" doesn't appear in the names of any of the 50 states.
Only one state is named after a president.
A common housefly lives for about 2 weeks.
A common housefly buzzes in the key of F.
Every person's tongue print is unique.
You can't get blood out of a jellyfish, either. They don't have any.
There are about ten million bricks in the Empire State Building.
Your hands and feet contain more than half the bones in your body.
Your feet give up about a quarter cup of sweat daily.
Lonely parrots can go insane (sounds like a song title).

Sigh.

What I Wanna Be When I Grow Up

I was at work yesterday, and the television in the lounge was tuned to NESN. Charlie Moore Outdoors was on, and I stopped for a moment and watched a little bit of it. The guy has earned the nickname, "The Mad Fisherman." He's hyper, crazy and fun to watch.

But that wasn't what struck me the most.

I want to have a fishing show.

Not because I'm a really great fisherman. Not because I really like to fish. I mean, I do like to fish, but that isn't why I want to have a fishing show. I want to have a fishing show because it just seems like the world's easiest way to make a living. Sorry, Charlie, it just does.

How hard can it be? It's recreation for pay. Sometimes you might have to fish for eight or ten hours to get enough usable video. OK. I have fished for eight or ten hours for absolutely no pay. Sure, it's a long day, but it's fishing for goodness' sake! That isn't the same as working.

I'm not talking about the crew - they're working. The host is fishing and talking.

I'll bet he's got sponsors providing his equipment, too. Good gear, and he gets to travel to all sorts of different fishing spots to fish! That's the kind of business trip I could really get into.

Summing up: Quality equipment for free, travel, a certain level of fame, pay, and fishing.

That's why I want my own fishing show.

Finally!

So, it was a little more than twelve hours after the 3:30 AM telephone call, that I got the next call. My granddaughter, Alyssa Lynn, had finally graced us with her presence - all seven pounds, three ounces and nineteen inches of her.
I can relax now.

Waiting....

It's hard to feel good about a 3:30 AM telephone call. They're rarely very pleasant. Sometimes they're wrong numbers. I don't usually get angry about misdials, but I do think that if you're dialing a phone number in the wee hours, you should use all the care you possibly can.
Sometimes these calls are the result of drunk dialing. Usually, when somebody gets drunk and calls a friend, unless they're asking for a ride that will keep them from getting behind the wheel (all too rare), it's something that could wait. At least until morning. Frequently until the Second Coming. I have rarely said anything while drunk that I wanted to remember for posterity. I have often said things while drunk that I would like to remember so that I can get the apology right.
3:30 AM telephone calls often bring bad news. At work, I first on the alarm company's call list. If any of the alarms go off, I get the call. Motion sensor? I get out of bed, and drag myself to the restaurant. I get called when the coolers get too warm. I got a call that told me that there was a power outage at the restaurant (it took a lot of strength to keep from sarcasm then: "Thanks for waking me up. I'll bring some right down.").
Then there are the really bad news calls. The ones that tell you that something bad has happened to a friend or a family member. I haven't had any of those, but I worry about getting them.
This morning, at 3:30 AM, I did get a phone call, but it wasn't a bad news call, a wrong number or a drunk dial. It was my oldest daughter, calling to tell me that she's in labor. I liked getting that call. Now, though, it's more than seven and a half hours later, and I haven't yet received the follow-up call. I'll keep on waiting....