Night Owl Cards

My terribly incomplete want list is exactly that: "A Want List." I know many bloggers also list "have lists" in their want lists. It's a convenient way to address sets in which you're far from your completion goal. Who wants to type in all those numbers? But I can't help but think that no one calls up a want list to see "haves". They want to see "wants"! What does this dude want! A "have list" is actually no strain on the person viewing the list. All he or she needs to do is eliminate those "have" card numbers when they're searching through cards. It feels a little backwards when I'm looking at "have lists," but really it's no sweat. Often it's a lot more fun than attacking a "want list" because the "have list" collector needs so many cards! Still I have a difficult time creating a "have list" on my main "want list." I'm not sure

It's another road trip for this night owl and the weather was flat-out odd this time out. Most of you know about the wind storm that struck the eastern half the country a day or two ago. I happened to venture out in the middle of it determined to use my common-sense driving skills that I am convinced 80 percent of American drivers do not possess anymore. I decided to stay off the highways, avoiding tractor trailers or those monster SUVs that are most susceptible to the wind. I took an alternate route down to the Syracuse suburbs and as I was crossing west through one of those shopping sprawl areas, while stopped at a traffic light, I saw what I thought was lightning. This may not be odd in late February in some parts of the country but it is just short of bizarre in the Northeast. A few seconds later I heard thunder and then it came down. No, not rain, nor snow. It was sleet, as fast and plentiful as I've ever seen while inside a vehicle. A bit freaked, I turned off

Last week I survived that popular ritual of 50-somethings everywhere, the colonoscopy. I know that just made a young person squirm. Good. That's why I mentioned it. They need reminders of what's coming. Anyway, the hysteria you hear about the procedure is pretty much exactly that: hysteria. I heard all kinds of stories before I finally agreed to my doctor's recommendation. One person told me about the woman who had a colonoscopy and is still in a hospital years later recovering. Spooky stuff like that. But outside of starving yourself for a day and getting zero sleep, mine was completely manageable and filled with all kinds of perks, like getting my own cable TV to watch and people waiting on me constantly. Best of all, there is plenty of down time afterwards. Because of the prep (i.e. icky drink) the night before and the procedure the day of, I essentially took two days off of work and nobody said anything because the poor old man needs a colonoscopy. But th

Today, I sent three card packages into the mail. My gosh, what an achievement. I felt so proud of myself, shipping those packages. All three of them were in response to cards I received before Christmas, possibly even from November. Meanwhile, there are still plenty of pre-Christmas transactions left on my "to send" section of the card desk, reminding me of exactly how long I'm taking to be a neighborly trader through the mail. I don't really feel shame about my delayed responses. Life has been so relentless in the last six months that there's no time to feel guilt, let alone do something about it. But I can't help but admire those collectors who are so on top of things. For example, Marc from Remember the Astrodome . He's sent me three packages in a relatively short period of time. I finally sent out a card package in response to maybe his first mailing and -- boom -- a third package showed up. I hadn't even featured his second mailing on th

So, team collectors, how ya doing with completing that Heritage team set from last year? Yeah, yeah, I know, you bought the entire team set last March. Probably a smart system when it comes to Heritage. The checklist for 2019 Heritage was released the other day and before I do anything else, I head right for the short-prints portion of the list. I want to know what kind of aggravation I am facing right up front. It turns out I'm facing significant unpleasantness. The Dodgers feature a whopping six short-prints in this year's Heritage set. That is one year after the Heritage broke the old record for the most Dodger SPs with five (the Adrian Gonzalez card up top included). So, Heritage has set yet another record, and Heritage is just getting meaner and meaner and more and more difficult to collect. Consider the various short-print related "innovations" in Heritage when it comes to collecting the Dodgers. In 2013, Heritage twisted the knife on every team co

With the significant volume of unpleasantness that has infected this month, and particularly this week (and probably the next), I'm feeling a little entitled. That's what happens when things aren't going your way. You start to feel like you deserve something. I deserve that doughnut. I deserve to watch TV for the next six hours. Can you believe what he/she said to me? I deserve a few drinks. That's how I'm feeling. Just a little bit mind you. But I won't be stuffing my face or pounding back several at the bar. No, for this collector, he feels like he deserves to complete a set. It's been awhile. I haven't been doing too well in that area either. The '73 Topps quest has stagnated (the long gaps between card shows has something to do with that). The '81 Fleer want list actually grew after I was down to what I thought was just one or two cards. It's now four. .. Isn't anything going right? So that is why when I saw what was in a

I know that's a heavy post title. I don't want to bring anyone down to my current miserable state, so I'll try to keep it in a baseball frame of mind, but just to give you an idea of what I am presently dealing with: Death and dying is everywhere. My mother's health continues to decline. We all know what her illness is, we're just waiting for confirmation. The news is not good and some of us are not taking it well. Meanwhile, around the block from me last week, a father and his four daughters died in a fire on Valentine's Day. The city is devastated. There have been memorials in the street near my house all week. So with those happy themes dominating my life right now, I came home from yet another trip to my parents to hear that Don Newcombe had died. I loved Don Newcombe. I thought he never received as much appreciation as other Brooklyn Dodgers. Of the great African-American Dodgers trifecta of the 1940s and 1950s, I suppose Newk couldn't compare