Today was a perfect fishing day. I did not go, because I am rebuilding someone’s backyard, but it was perfect weather for it. It was 80 degrees, sunny and warm, and I could just feel those tugs on my line. Let me finish this project and I might have time for fishing. Today was also perfect camping weather, so I took my tent out just to inspect it. My dog urinated on my tent. I try hard to remember why we have a dog. This one was a “rescue dog” saved from imminent slaughter by our adopting her. She is very smart, understands scores of words, and understands hand signals. But she did go on my tent and I was not pleased.
I basically go camping to allow myself some time to myself. Having not had an alcoholic beverage in fourteen years, I enjoy drinking a great deal of water and as Rolfe the Dog said in the “Muppet Movie,” taking myself out for a walk. Campgrounds, especially those I frequent, are quiet and prone to augmenting the desire for solitude. The problem is the season is too short. However, there are ways around that. Some Cape Cod campgrounds are open well into November. So, that is an option.
I am engrossed with my LinkedIn Account. I have two hundred people in my group and that does not include everyone I know. I get a lot of calls from people interested in my account. Yesterday, the program told me I had too many people in my account, but I do not pick people I do not know, so the program will just have to adjust. Imagine giving human characteristics to a computer program. How do you “adjust” if you are just a machine?
A couple of weeks ago I lost a good friend. G. Douglas Golden, Timothy Golden’s dad, who was unlike anyone else I have ever met. He was constantly joking, making light of almost anyone or anything. He was active at St. Margaret’s Parish and was an altar server at funerals. He made people feel good. I will miss him.
I have two other very good friends. They do not want to be in this Blog and I will not include their names. I did not even use their first names. These two took me on a fishing trip to upper New Hampshire. They paid my room fees and taught me how to fly fish. I greatly enjoyed the lessons and, as I have told everyone within earshot, they helped me catch my first trout. I used the worst-looking fly that I could find, and I still caught a fish. They tell me it is because I have Parkinson’s and a handy little tremor. It might be.
Well, it is time to stamp some of my work brochures. These are little green things that strangely enough, get me many calls. I designed them on my computer and once order one thousand finely made cards that did not bring one response. So my latest stamp says that I am on Angie’s List, which is true. Stamping in the age of computers takes some time but it is not an awful way to spend the evening. I hope that you have something to do, too.