Is there still a Friday Five around? I don’t know. Never did play well within the confines of the rules, but then, I’ve never really had much of a problem finding material to write about.
1. A couple of days ago, I was intrigued by Mistress Fredlet’s question, who do you want to be when you grow up?
2. I always thought I wanted to be a rockstar, but that would greatly interfere with my lifestyle, the teeming hordes of groupies alone would interfere with my solace while fishing. From what I can discern, my lack of musical ability wouldn’t be much of an obstacle. Plus, I get worn out enough from working two days a week, I’m not sure I could tour incessantly.
3. I thought a reporter-at-large would be a good gig, too, but that one’s not going to work, either. “We have an armed intruder, cover that story….” “Uh, did you say ‘heavily armed’? I think I left the coffee pot on at home – I’d better skip this one.”
4. There was a feller who worked the same circuit I do, way back when, always a sharp dresser. I’d figure I’d like to be like him, only be a professional gambler. But to do that? I’d have to win more than I do. As it is, I only rate poor amateur.
5. I’ve been writer, and had a secret desire to be classified as a writer, for years. First publication was artwork, then a poem, back when I was but a mere whisp of a lad. Now, if I could just combine a little Shakespeare, some fishing lore, and get around a topical subject, I might have a winner. I think that’s who I want to be.
Thursday morning’s mailbag contained a couple of highly complimentary notes. I might not be pleasing all the people all the time, but at least a couple of souls are enjoying my efforts and rewarding me with nice notes.
It’s always a mad dash to get to the airport, what with Mercury confusing issues and so forth. I didn’t want to be bereft of coffee beans when I return, so I had a last-minute dash to the store. Which reminded me about me selfless, undying love and adoration for all things Leo.
Just for the record, “I walked six miles, each way, in the snow, with bare feet, using barbwire for shoes, uphill both ways. Barefoot. In the snow. Uphill.”
(Really, all that happened was I got stuck reading a book late into the night.)
The flight last night? Did I mention Mercury was retrograde? Did I mention I’ve found a sure-fire cure for Mercurial Mayhem? Two shots of airport espresso and a large scoop of Amy’s Mexican Vanilla ice cream. Smooth, rich, creamy delight.
“Plane’s two hours late?” High-pitched giggle, “Mercury’s retrograde.”
I half expected to start seeing tracers. Good thing I was wearing the wedding ring, one of them.
