Hey, it's Ed. Any messages?

That was the punchline to one of my favorite prank calls.

Apologies to my legion of fans, detractors and morbidly curious for my extended absence, but let's just say work called . . . at 7:30 p.m. at the motel, and again at 10:30 p.m., and an e-mail at 2:30 a.m. . . . .

Anyway, there's so much to tell, so much to say . . . hmmm, I'm having a vintage Dave Matthews lyric moment.

So, let's indulge in a little rambling.

One of the good things about driving in the mountains of Southwest Virginia is being able to watch the sun rise and set and rise and set again in the morning. On the way to my pseudo-mercenary editor gig this week I got to watch seven sunrises and six sunsets.

And then there was the layover in the motel. Said motel is undergoing a substantial facelift including an enlarged parking lot and construction of a new wing. Apparently, the site preparation around the building has induced a slight warpage of the building. All the room doors seemed to have a slight gap between frame and door.

And, while enjoying having my sleep interrupted by a crazed pressman Tuesday evening, I finally wandered the hall to the soda machine, ice dispenser and travel brochure center, which induced me to write this particular piece of prose:

Things to do in Wytheville when you're dead

I'm spending my third consecutive Tuesday night in a motel in Wytheville, Va. as I continue my saga of work-related . . . . well, work.
While playing the role of business traveler, I feel a certain responsibility to offer a few tips beyond Vicus' own rules for survival in Missouri.

In-room coffee makers: Don't use them, or at least not for coffee. Interesting fact that I learned from a colleague who did a story on methamphetamine abuse: you can use over-the-counter cold medications and a few household chemicals to cook your own meth in a handy motel room coffee maker.

The National Firearms Museum: Thanks to the convenient travel brochure rack on the third floor of this motel, I found that I can take a leisurely six-hour drive after work to the afore-mentioned museum in Fairfax, Va. From the museum's handsome four-color brochure:
"See historical treasures such as a firearm brought to America on the Mayflower, the firearms of the Buffalo Soldiers and the Wild West, and the firearms that went up San Juan Hill! Inspect the firearms owned by notables such as Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte, sharpshooter Annie Oakley, General Douglas MacArthur, mystery writer Erle Stanley Gardner, and presidents Theodore Roosevelt, Grover Cleveland, Dwight Eisenhower, Lyndon Johnson and Ronald Reagan."

According to the television commercial just on, joining the Army Reserve is not the same as joining the Army, despite the father's skepticism and the son's eventual admission that enlisting means getting Army training even though it's the Army Reserves.

William Shatner's getting roasted on the Comedy Channel soon.

Did I mention don't use the coffee maker?

Bck to Thursday. While driving to pick up my son from golf team practice, I saw something rather unusual and delightful on the trip down the valley: two mountain goats enjoying a roadside salad. I cursed myself roundly for not having a camera on hand.

Anyway, tomorrow night will be episode two of Frontier Editor's Dance Party inspired by Richard with liner notes from one of his recent posts. Enjoy.