bulletized quickies...I mean, quick bulletins

• I am now 20 pages into the first edit of my recently completed novel. I made the description of the opening setting more detailed, such as giving the name of the bar where my two protagonists like to hang out after work. (Shelly's Back Room, Washington, D.C. It's a nifty little cigar parlor.)
• My new California driver's license came in the mail. Or rather, my old California driver's license came in the mail. I have the same number, the same shaky signature, even the same terrible photograph, taken when I was 16 years old, right after I got a buzz-cut. It expires in one year, too. Instead of making me a completely new license, California merely dredged up my old one from the archives instead. Gosh darn those mother-fudging son-of-a-witch dastards. Anyway, this finally closes the book on my frustrating quest to get my car registered in Southern California.
• I'm going to discontinue that column I have going on here, random travel destinations. It's silly. I think, if I am going to do it, I'll wait until I've actually been to these places before I decide to showcase them on my blog. Stay tuned for a grand reinstatement in 50 years.
• As I write this, I am sucking on a blueberry-flavored lollipop...which has a dead scorpion in the center of it. I've just managed to get his little stinger uncovered.
• I'm going to watch The Matrix Reloaded tonight.
• I went into town at 11:00 today for my FAA flight physical. The Federal Aviation Administration demands that anybody who is, or is training to be, a pilot must hold a medical certificate issued by an approved physician. To get this medical certificate, a pilot must submit to a medical examination on a regular basis. I went in to get my Class 3 (lowest) medical certificate today with a Dr. Krider, the doctor that my soon-to-be flight school Apple Valley Aviation endorses. The nurse weighed me (I'm 20 pounds lighter than I was the last time I got a medical examination), tested my eyes, took my pulse and blood pressure, and had me pee in a cup. Then Dr. Krider came in, listened to my breathing, prodded my chest and torso, had me (ahem) turn my head and cough, and then pronounced me fit to fly. I was issued my medical certificate and went on my merry way. But get this: my colorblindness has mysteriously disappeared. The last Class 3 certificate I was issued had to have restrictions put on it (no night flying and no navigating by colored light signals) because I had failed the color test. They had me stare at those dang bits of paper with bunches of colored dots on them and asked me to tell them what numbers I saw. And of course I said, "I don't see any numbers," because I couldn't, dammit. This time, though, I buckled down, squinted, cocked my head to the side, reached out with extrasensory force, and passed the test. This time, I saw not only the 12 but also the 15, the 4, the 7...not all of the little buggers, but enough to pass the test. Now my certificate has no restrictions on it, which means I'm free to complete any and all training for a private pilot's license, including night flying. Yippee! Let's get to it! Bring on the Cessna 172 and let's saddle up! Aviation-related blog posts are finally on their way!
• The National Geographic Channel can do no wrong as far as I'm concerned. They've got two shows currently running that are the proverbial bee's knees: Mega Beasts and Prehistoric Predators. Both are overflowing with gorgeous computer-generated images of ferocious monsters and fabulous creatures that seem to leap right off the screen at you, plus little-known facts that even I, a lifelong paleobiology lover, never suspected. Did you know Hyaenodon had incredibly long nasal tubes so it could still breathe even when it had a mouthful of meat?