Of All The Things I Could Be Doing...

...I decide to sit down here and write a blog entry that will inevitably take about six times longer than I intend to spend.

I was in Boise two weeks ago, Portland for two days last week, and I am off to Montana to fly fish tomorrow.  Oh yea, and I am heading off to the bar tonight when I am normally heading for bed.  Have I packed? Have I practiced? Yet here I sit content with a belly full of hot dog and Frank Sinatra singing "Pennies from Heaven" just for me.  And suddenly it occurs to me that I might be happier this very second than I will be tomorrow in the car, or the day after as I freeze in some Montana river.  I tip my hat (circumspectly) to those who never leave the house.  While I am in a hat-tipping mood, I will dive into the purpose of this post.

I tip my hat to the only man who single-handedly created a genera.  The cross-eyed child.

I tip my hat to my Senior Prom date.  The sixteen year old girl who fell in love on an April afternoon while dreaming atop a cooling slab of granite.  She who in three days will wake up alone as a bride of eleven years. 

With nothing redemptive to add, I sign off in record time to head for the waters as Jonah once did, wickedness at the heel and unknown adventure at the toe.