You may have noted in my Thursday posting that I had marked 7:30 this morning for some sort of event but couldn't remember what it was.

My clock radio went off this morning at 7, which is my usual wake-up, a leisurely perusal of National Public Radio news as I return to consciousness. And I lazed in bed, enjoying Weekend Edition Sunday -- until the phone rang.

Ak! So there was something at 7:30 a.m. -- not to mention that a half-hour of lolling about was less than productive! I grabbed the phone and was told I'd be on the air shortly, so I managed to sound coherent and was enormously relieved to hear an on-air apology that the host wanted to wrap up a couple of phonecalls before getting to me. Huzzah!

I staggered downstairs to grab my wireless handset -- only to knock the unit on the floor (disconnecting the power cord, as I found out later; all I could determine at the time was that the cordless handset didn't work), so I ended up grabbing the wall phone, rounding up a chair to settle onto, and throwing a couple of reference books nearby in case they were needed. Then I was on the air, and it was (as ever) delightful, with topics ranging from slabbing to what you'll find in antique malls to rolled spines to the website.

And next time I arrange to go on the air for an interview, I'll either write more informative notes to myself or beg the arranger to give me a reminder call a couple of days before. Still: much fun.

I suddenly realized yesterday, when I ended up in Appleton (an hour's drive away), that it had been ages since I'd visited the town's antiques mall. No sooner thought than done (well, actually, it required a drive of four blocks), and I shortly found myself in the midst of scary shelves filled with carnival glass, rhinestone jewelry, and thousands of statuettes.

The shelves were scary because of the universal "you break it, you bought it" rules and the fact that I was wearing a fairly bulky jacket. An attempt to take a closer look at an old magazine took me by glassware displays. Yikes!

What was sobering was the fact that, by the time I'd wandered through half the mall for way over an hour, I'd found a total of five beat-up comics for $1 each and nothing more. You need to understand that I'm a sucker for certain kinds of elderly collectibles. (Anyone out there know where I can buy the card game of the 1920s -- or thereabouts -- called Excuse Me or have an idea of how I can filter for it online?)

I quickly did notice that many of the battered paper items were tagged, "Never read," and "Near mint." And there was one comic of passing interest that I quickly discovered was too repellant to pick up.

Then I discovered the other half of the mall -- with more and more (and more) booths filled with dinnerware, bar signs, and fishing lures. But here there were also some booths to which I shall head the next time I'm in town. One had some cool fossils and geodes I may revisit. I'm especially tempted by a huge chunk of Moroccan rock with many polished portions featuring fossil shells. (What would I do with it? Heck if I know. But it's fancy.)

And back in a corner were a bunch of shelves loaded with a strange variety of keen items interspersed with such why-bother items as Tom Clancy novels. I'd already found a hardcover with dust jacket: Stork Bites Man: What the Expectant Father May Expect with text by Louis Pollock but (delightful cartoon) art by Carl Rose. And spotted the hardcover Sound Off! Soldier Songs (1942, collected by Edward Arthur Dolph) just as a loudspeaker somewhere far off announced, "Mrsfh phlfgsh nim smarf!" I glanced at my watch and suddenly realized that I'd seen a sign somewhere about the place closing at 6 p.m.

Dang! Finally a spot I wanted to investigate thoroughly and not enough time to do so. I grabbed a copy of the mapback Dell Mystery Cold Steal by Alice Tilton. I already had it, but it's one of my favorite mysteries. (Alice Tilton was the pen name of Phoebe Atwood Taylor. The Tilton books featured Leonidas Witherall, a detective who resembles Shakespeare and who begins each adventure by being plunged into wild circumstances that require him to solve the murder he discovers. Zany whodunits.)

And so to the checkout line. But I'll be back.