Last night I got to have an extended webcam session with Mrs. Birdman, and one with all of the girls this morning. It was such a beautiful sight to see, and reminds me of why I’m here in the first place, but for some reason that was not enough to keep me from driving down to the lookout and watching a slideshow on my phone. The soundtrack to which was me crying my eyes out. It’s not that I can’t handle being away from them… Okay, I really can’t handle it, but I’m trying hard. By the way, there’s a fence and a concrete barrier around the lookout now, and you can’t pull up to the edge any more. I suppose it’s a good idea, and it looks pretty nice with the picnic tables and whatnot, but I always liked pulling up and aiming the nose down the hill. Oh well, I guess saving lives is a bit more important than my whims, like the once a year that I get happy and depressed at the same time, and sit here bawling.
I remember when I first came out here, and was up in Keypile camp with Johnny, Jimmy, Geoff and Fathead. I don’t even know why we called Tom “Fathead”, because his head is very proportionate to his body. I think Jimmy gave him that nickname, but then again, I think Jimmy gave everyone their nickname. I was freshly shaven, a mistake that I only made once, when I jumped out of the truck with my toque and round glasses on, I was greeted with a hearty, “It’s fucking Radar from MASH”. For the next eleven years, I was introduced as Radar to everyone. I guess I didn’t mind too much; Jimmy has a way of making things seem alright. I don’t know too many people that can get offended by Jimmy, because he never means anything in a hurtful way. I’ve called him Jimmy since I met him, and didn’t find out for four years that he would rather be called Jim. Like I give a shit what he wants to be called. He answers the phone with a wide array of nicknames that he’s called me over the years. Bag sniffer, goat humper, freakshow, and dog fucker are a few of them, and the others are fairly offensive, so I won’t mention them here. Jimmy and I have spent quite a bit of time together, and he will always be someone I call my friend. I actually think I could do a series of posts about Jimmy, but he’s married to a lovely lady, and has two cute little kids, so I’ll just leave it at that. Soooo, where were we? Right, what I was trying to say before, was that back then I had one of the old digital cell phones, and had to go out in the parking lot to talk on it because there was only one tower in the area, and it was touch and go. Standing outside in the bitter cold, wasn’t ideal, so no one called home very often, or for long.
As the years went by, I started using the old analog Motorola bag phones, and they worked great, but then the analog towers were all replaced, and I had to go back to digital. Most of the time, you had to take a pick up and drive somewhere to get signal. I’ve seen guys drive twenty kilometres or more to call their wife and kids, and I’ve also seen guys never call, even if there’s a signal in camp. That’s pretty sad, if you ask me. Why you wouldn’t you want to tell your wife and kids that you love them every night? Most of those guys were on their umpteenth wife or “old lady” anyhow, and I guess there is a reason for that. Women like it when you pay attention to them, and if you don’t like them enough to see how their day went, they will find someone who will. Can’t say as I blame them either. You can’t treat people with indifference and expect them to stick around. If you don’t love someone wholeheartedly, you shouldn’t be with them. They deserve better than that, and so do you, you crusty old prick.
What I’m trying to get at here, while weaving in and out of a point, is that technologically, things have changed so much in the ten years I’ve been doing this. I now can talk from my bed in most camps, and I can even get enough bandwidth to Skype from the odd one. I have a phone that I can do pretty well anything I need to from, and I can blog to my hearts content. There’s another wonderful thing in my life. Thank you for recommending this to me Baby. I have so much fun with this thing, and I’m always learning something new. Like the stats and all those widgets. I can see who goes on, and when they go on, (but not who they are, just the town that their internet provider is from). I can also see what people are reading, and who subscribes. I especially love seeing where people are from, that read the blog, and the patterns that they read in. Some go on every day at the same time, and some just randomly go on in the night, once a week or so, and read back to where they left off. I can sometimes figure out by the town and Facebook, who someone is, but IP addresses change, so I can never be sure.
I love it when people comment, and I don’t even care what you say, I love interacting, and hearing what you like, or don’t like. What you’d like to see in future posts, or maybe you’ve got something you’d like to get out there, and don’t want to start your own blog. We called this Change The Topic for a few reasons, one is because we don’t want the same thing day after day. Maybe we want a laugh one day, and a cry the next, or maybe we just want to rant. Another is that I’m scatterbrained, and my mind switches in mid thought sometimes. I also would like to see writing from all of you. I don’t care if you want it to be anonymous, or maybe you’ve written a short story that you think others would enjoy. No matter what, I would love to hear some of your tales, thoughts and ramblings, so I’m going to build a page with some instructions on becoming a guest blogger. Now that Therapy Thursday has withered away, I need a new project, and this is it until someone tells me to stop, so keep looking on the page bar for the “Be a guest blogger” page.
I want to rock and roll all night, and party every day,