bigscoop
Gold Member
- Jun 4, 2010
- 13,373
- 8,689
- Detector(s) used
- Older blue Excal with full mods, Equinox 800.
- Primary Interest:
- All Treasure Hunting
Been a long time since I've had to sit out the winter season not being able to scratch my metal detecting itch. I forget what it was like, staring out the window into the snow covered and frozen tundras, the continuous research next to the crackling fire only serving to tease me further. I want to get out. I want to go on the hunt. I want to scoop into the sand and dig into the dirt. I want to go explore and I want to experience adventure. I want, I want, I want. But can't.
I'm not sure what I'm thinking these days, driving from one old bookstore to the next in search of interesting reads. I mean, do I really want to be doing that? Maybe I should be buying cook books, or cross country snow skiing books, or books on how to build an igloo. But treasure hunting and metal detecting reference materials? It's like trying to put out a fire with lighter fluid. It's like slowly scratching your fingernails down the chalkboard or attempting to remove lint from you hair with a piece of bubblegum. At least I could cook, or go cross country skiing, or learn how to survive an iceage.
Now don't get me wrong, which I doubt you have, because I am obviously complaining. I bought a new keyboard for my computer a month ago and already the letters are wearing off of the keys. My fingers are experiencing more adventure and action then I am. Me, I'm just sitting here thinking about metal detecting and treasure hunting and watching my fingers enjoy themselves. And damn if they're not writing about metal detecting and treasure hunting and reminding me why I can't go.
If you're in the same wintry boat that I am and you don't write, trust me on this, don't start! In a twisted sort of a way it's like giving yourself an enema as a means of escaping the constant frustration, teasing and torture. It serves no purpose other then to add to the agony of it all. I want, I want, but I can't. Excuse me while I toss another log onto the fire, glance out the window again to see if spring is here yet.
When it was below zero last week I went outside to start my van and when it struggled to turn over I swear it was slowly grunting, “Flooorida. Flooorida.” Strange how the mind works when half of the brain cells in your head are frosted over. I returned to the house thinking, A week? Maybe two? A little road trip would certainly do me good! But, I'd only have to return in what would undoubtedly be the worst snowstorm and ice storm ever on record. That would be my luck. But even without that I'd still have to finish sitting through the winter season wanting, and wanting, and wanting.
So tomorrow I'm heading to a different old bookstore to pickup some more drugs, or dope, to help increase the endless want and pain. But here's the good news, I'm buying nothing tropical in nature. No heavy hitting beach hunting meds this time around. Here lately, those things always leave me feeling like I'm tripping. All I have to say is this; if patience builds character then I'm going to have a whole new character about me by the time spring finally rolls around. Probably even save pull tabs so I can clean them next to the fire next winter.
I'm not sure what I'm thinking these days, driving from one old bookstore to the next in search of interesting reads. I mean, do I really want to be doing that? Maybe I should be buying cook books, or cross country snow skiing books, or books on how to build an igloo. But treasure hunting and metal detecting reference materials? It's like trying to put out a fire with lighter fluid. It's like slowly scratching your fingernails down the chalkboard or attempting to remove lint from you hair with a piece of bubblegum. At least I could cook, or go cross country skiing, or learn how to survive an iceage.
Now don't get me wrong, which I doubt you have, because I am obviously complaining. I bought a new keyboard for my computer a month ago and already the letters are wearing off of the keys. My fingers are experiencing more adventure and action then I am. Me, I'm just sitting here thinking about metal detecting and treasure hunting and watching my fingers enjoy themselves. And damn if they're not writing about metal detecting and treasure hunting and reminding me why I can't go.
If you're in the same wintry boat that I am and you don't write, trust me on this, don't start! In a twisted sort of a way it's like giving yourself an enema as a means of escaping the constant frustration, teasing and torture. It serves no purpose other then to add to the agony of it all. I want, I want, but I can't. Excuse me while I toss another log onto the fire, glance out the window again to see if spring is here yet.
When it was below zero last week I went outside to start my van and when it struggled to turn over I swear it was slowly grunting, “Flooorida. Flooorida.” Strange how the mind works when half of the brain cells in your head are frosted over. I returned to the house thinking, A week? Maybe two? A little road trip would certainly do me good! But, I'd only have to return in what would undoubtedly be the worst snowstorm and ice storm ever on record. That would be my luck. But even without that I'd still have to finish sitting through the winter season wanting, and wanting, and wanting.
So tomorrow I'm heading to a different old bookstore to pickup some more drugs, or dope, to help increase the endless want and pain. But here's the good news, I'm buying nothing tropical in nature. No heavy hitting beach hunting meds this time around. Here lately, those things always leave me feeling like I'm tripping. All I have to say is this; if patience builds character then I'm going to have a whole new character about me by the time spring finally rolls around. Probably even save pull tabs so I can clean them next to the fire next winter.
