Lightning Strikes Twice

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2012-01-22T11:15:00.002-06:00

I was reminded by a fellow blogger that I had not posted in some time. I am not alone in this. Many of the blogs I have followed for years have gone dead or fallow. I suppose that Face Book and Twitter have carried away many of us over into methods of more immediate communication. I still check on my blogger friends, but not as frequently as I used to.

It is almost four months since my hip replacement and for the most part, it is a transparent part of me. I feel like I walk a little differently. Not sure if I limp or not. Risa makes me limp if I park in a handicap spot and use my placard. This is something I do only if there is no other option, but if she is with me, she will tell me to limp so that she is not embarrassed to be seen exiting a car parked in such fashion.

The hip recovery process got me to buy a membership in a local fitness center where I work out about 3 times per week. At first, this was to strengthen my right leg, which had lost significant muscle mass over the time leading up to my surgery. Now it is a combination of strength training and cardio. The part I enjoy the most is the sauna however. That alone is worth the price of admission.

I am back skiing and patrolling at our local hill. I was uncertain how a hip replacement would affect this, but I seem to be as able now as I was before, which is good because I am scheduled to head out to Colorado shortly for our annual Ski Kamp. Kind of a lousy year to have bought a season pass for Summit County, but you never can tell what the weather will be like.

I also just got back from my quarterly visit to the Mayo where I received a clean bill of health on the cancer front. I can't tell you how lucky I feel about this. I have been at the "end of the road" treatment wise so many times and here I am in remission due to an experimental study. Who would have guessed.

The family is good. My daughter graduates from college this spring and has been accepted into the Teach for America program. She is scheduled to teach inner city high school in Chicago next year. I am sure this will be a huge new challenge, and an eye opener for her.

My son is in his first year of college and is finding his path as we all must do. I am curious how this will play out, but I guess I will just have to wait to see.

One of my brothers is scheduled to have the same hip surgery as I did at the end of this month. His surgeon is the same one that popped in my new hip. Now I will get to play the role of cheerleader and support person. I hope he finds the same relief as I did.

So, that's about it for now. Thanks for all of you who have stuck with me over this journey and I hope that we have a long way to go. Cheers.

Musings

2011-10-21T20:47:00.003-05:00

It is three weeks now since I got my new hip. The recovery is going well. No bone pain, just soft tissue soreness and lingering bruising. I walk with a cane that is used mostly for balance rather than a support. I am grateful that this has worked as well as it did.

I am also thoughtful about the circumstances that allowed me to have this expensive procedure without adding a mortgage to my house or selling a child into bondage. I feel ashamed that I live in a country where I am privileged, able to do this while others cannot.

I look at our country and truly believe that it is not the same one I grew up in. When did our national priorities grow so askew? How is it that the resources of one of the greatest nations on earth are devoted to war (undeclared), and to the rich rather than to health, education, infrastructure, and the general well being of the nation? I am not sure how we got here, but I know what it is that lead us - greed.

I look at us (the nation) and I see the problems, but I do not know how to solve them. Our system of government is not working. Our congress is deadlocked and either committed to party dogma, or incompetent when it comes to trying to solve the nation's problems. How do we fix this?

People are demonstrating on Wall Street and around the country, but what will that really do? We need to abolish the current system. I do not believe that it can be repaired. It is too entrenched in polarizing, moneyed interests that work not for the common good, but for the financial sources that provide the funding. How to change this?

I guess that I am feeling so frustrated because I do not see a way to get beyond our current position. Do any of you see a way? If you have an idea, I would surely like to hear it.

Enough with the complaining. On the health front, as far as I know, things are good. My hip condition continues to improve at a good rate. I go to the Mayo next week for a regular checkup which will involve the dreaded, but necessary CT scan to see what's happening inside. Wish me luck. I'll let you know what's up when I find out.

Ta ta.

End of Summer Ponderings

2011-09-02T14:06:00.002-05:00

I am sorry old blog for ignoring you so long. It's not that I don't visit and read the blogs of my online friends, I do, but I seldom feel inspired enough to write on my own.

The summer here by the giant inland sea has passed in a blur. I started out with the best of intentions to do volunteer work for various local museums, but found that other events were superseding my plans in that area. I have done a few shows on the local college FM station, but not as many as I had hoped.

I bought a motorcycle and side-car rig that I found on fleabay and flew down to hotter-than-hell Texas to drive it back and Risa, Saffron, and I have been making good use of it whenever time and weather allow. Just last weekend we went over to Madeline Island, the largest of the Apostle Islands off the Bayfield peninsula in Wisconsin. Madeline Island was a holy place for the First People and much of that magic still remains. The only town on the island is named La Pointe and it was there that we stayed with an old friend that I reconnected with after 18 years. It was a very nice and relaxing time.

It has been a summer of teenage invasions here at the casa on the hill. My daughter made a surprise decision to return home for the summer. Cousins arrived from the east and west coasts for the annual Blues Fest reunion. Stray college kids bunked with us for a while before returning to their various places of learning.

As of a few days ago, the house is now empty and teen free. The daughter went back to Madison and the son left for his freshman year at the University of Minnesota. Now it is just me and the critters rambling around like marbles in a shoe box.

One thing that has cropped up that was not planned is the death of my right hip. I started to feel discomfort in that hip around the beginning of summer which continued to intensify as time went by. X-rays showed the presence of arthritis, but a failed cortisone injection and significantly increased pain led to an MRI which showed necrosis of the ball of the joint. This is caused by insufficient blood flow to the bone and will not improve. I now walk painfully with a cane and am suddenly mobility challenged.

This has made my participation in the theater much more difficult. I am in a play that is currently in rehearsals and will open in mid September for two weekend runs. I am committed to doing this which has meant a delay in having my hip fixed. I am ingesting strong pain meds like they come out of a pez dispenser. Currently I am scheduled for a total hip replacement on October 18. Hopefully I can get in a little sooner.

That's about all folks. I'll let you know how the play goes and give you a blow-by-blow account of the hip replacement as it develops. Have a good end of summer, all.

Day 3

2011-06-17T22:42:00.002-05:00

Today was not nearly as adventurous as yesterday. Today was mostly a lot of freeway type driving interrupted in the morning with the deluge that I had been avoiding for day's 1 and 2. I finally had a chance to test both the machine and the outfit that I had bank rolled in some serious water and wind.

I am happy to report that the "stich" suit (a one-piece roadcrafter made in Duluth by Aerostich) performed beautifully, which was good because I have been hauling its not insubstantial weight through hell and back for days now. It finally paid off. It's other benefit is to protect me should I have to make an unexpected exit from the seat of the bike at speed - a test I will gratefully put off for now.

As for the rig, I have learned that it is a lot more work to move a hack through the twisty turnies than a regular two-wheeler, but put in the middle of blinding rain and hellatious wind, it is an island of stability. Score for the hack.

There were no "Deliverance" moments today. Today I was trying to cover ground, eat up them miles. The land I covered was mostly farms and sporadic forest. Late in the day, I reached Highway 61 and the Mississippi. Almost home.

I am again nearly nekkid, ensconced in a motel room fighting exhaustion. Today I was in the saddle only 10 hours as opposed to yesterday's 12, but it all adds up. Tomorrow I shoot for the Twin Cities in hopes of attending the Blind Lizard Motorcycle Rallye on Sunday, Father's Day.

Originally, I had hoped to be in Duluth at this time so I could work the finish line of Grandma's Marathon tomorrow morning. Guess that won't happen. No regrets though. This has been a hell of a trip and I am glad that I was able to do it.

Will post more tomorrow and also some pics. Too tired to do so now.

With love, D

What a Day

2011-06-16T20:25:00.013-05:00

Today is Day 2 of the Great Motorcycle Trip North and I have been in the saddle over 12 hours. Now, I'm sitting nekkid in a motel right off of Hwy 65 in Springfield, MO, showered, beered, and recovering.

Oh, OK, the back-story. I have had a motorcycle (a 1973 BMW R60/5 SWB (short wheel base) toaster tank) since about 1980. I used to ride a lot. Take off for months at a time kind of thing. Then I got married and since I don't like to ride with a passenger, and C didn't like to ride at all, the whole biking thing was kind of a non starter. Therefore, I have had a classic towel rack in my garage lo these many years.

Jump to the present. The R60 is still a towel rack, BUT Marisa wants to ride in a side car. Who knew? So, I started looking around for something along those lines and stumbled across one on flea-bay. Just for kicks I threw in a couple of bids. I hit my limit before the auction ended and saw the next day that it ended before the reserve was met. I shrugged and went on my way when a couple of days later I got a phone call.

The guy on the other end of the line had a drawl that you could cold patch your driveway with. He said that he worked for the seller of the bike I bid on two days previous and even though I wasn't the highest bidder, he knew that I was very interested because I had requested all sorts of technical details about the rig, and therefore, he wanted to sell it to me, if I could only bump my offer up five or eight hundred dollars.

I thanked him for his concern about my clearly out of control interest in his machine, but I had hit my limit when I stopped bidding. He proceeded to plead in a polite Texas manner until I ended by saying that I would think about it after I had talked it over with a few people. I promised to call him back and then I went on my way again.

Later that same day I received a second call from the same guy. He said, "OK, we'll give it to you for your last bid price. Do you want it or not? We have another guy - the highest bidder - who now wants to get in on the deal." I stood there speechless for a long minute until the gent at the other end started saying, "Hello. Hello. Are you there?"

Now, this deal was fraught with peril. If I went down this road, it was going to complicate my life in multiple dimensions. Plus, I had a perfectly good (if somewhat out of tune) beemer in my garage already. What to do, what to do? Why go for it of course.

Skip ahead several weeks to yesterday when I rose at 4:30 AM after getting a ride to the big cities to our south, got in a cab and flew to Dallas/Fort Worth where it was the same temperature as hell, to pick up this rig:

That's me in the sun when it was 105 fucking degrees Fahrenheit as I giddily gave the thumbs up to the camera as I embarked upon a 1,400 mile journey north having never driven a side-car rig in my life. Needless to say, it has been an interesting journey.

The ride east across Texas was gruelling. I had to stop frequently to rehydrate and to soak my T-shirt in cold water before donning it again, hoping that the evaporation would lower my internal temps before I hard boiled my liver. When I finally left the freeway and the monster semi rigs and headed north into Arkansas, things lightened up a bit. No one was trying to drive me off the road for example. I made it to De Queen, AK, a town that is inhabited entirely by Mexicans as far as I can tell, where I found a room, peeled off the clothes that were now packed solid with salt from my body, took a shower, and hobbled off to find sustenance and a beer.

Guess what? It's a dry county - hooray! Fuck. Had to settle for a bad Mexican dinner made for gringos and then returned to the motel with the best of intentions for a productive evening of journalling and such. Fell right to sleep.

And a good thing it was too, because this morning I awoke at 6 AM and was on the road 45 minutes later. After 12 hours of fun and adventures exploring some of the more remote parts of Arkansas, I am now again in a motel trying to share a little of my trip.

Some people who shall go unmentioned have accused me of slacking because my accumulated mileage does not add up to their expectations. In my own defense, I have to insist that I did my best, but Mother Nature has thrown all sorts of obstacles in my way. Such as small, hilly, steep back roads where I would go for miles without seeing any sign of human existence (should have been a clue). Such as this one:

That's a one-lane bridge barely wide enough for the bike and the side-car. This is the river it crossed:

So there I was, traipsing across the back roads in the Ozarks thinking "this looks just like the movie Deliverance" when the pavement ran out.

It was too far to go back and I only had another ten or twelve miles to go before I hit a bigger road, so I decided to push on. Can you hear the base drums pounding like they did in "Jaws?" Everything when kind of OK until the surface of the road changed to giant rocks embedded in the dirt. What kind of idiot dumps giant rocks on a dirt road? Well, I decided moments later, it was the "idiot" who was trying to keep passing vehicles from being consumed by the quick-sand like behavior of the road which had now turned to clay. How bad could that be?

Turns out that motorcycle tires are skinnier than car or truck tires and they were just the right size to sink down in the ooze and pick up great heaving globs of red dirt clay with every revolution. Another difference between cars and motorcycles is that a car has about a foot of clearance between the tire and the fender which would allow for a lot of mud to build up. Not so on the bike.

What you can't see in the photo is all of the mud packed up under the fender. The result? The wheel she no spin any more. Hmmmm.

After trying to clean the demon dirt out with various implements and several false starts, it becomes clear - the fender must come off. And so it was - only not that quickly.

And here is the guilty party (no, not me, silly):

I eventually made it out of the Deliverance set without an arrow through the chest and soon found a town with a spray car wash to blast the stubborn (and now baked-on mud) out of the various nooks and crannies of the bike. I only lost one mounting bolt down the car wash drain when re-attaching the front fender.

It's been quite the day for sure. Just outside of Needmore, AK, I passed a shack with two nearly naked boys standing on the front porch. The older, taller one tracked me with a long gun as I rode by. I couldn't tell what kind.

Coming around another corner, I startled a golden eagle at it's dinner and watched it lift off with powerful strokes of its wings.

The country I have traveled through has been beautiful (if muddy) and the people have all been very nice. Even the gun boy missed if he indeed did shoot.

Tomorrow I have a lot of big highway driving (my least favorite on a bike) to get to Hannibal, MO where I will pick up the Mississippi and follow it north. Till then, I bid adieu.

2011-05-25T10:32:00.002-05:00

It's time. Not for the world to end, though I can think of some that I wish had ascended up and out of the way. No, it's time for another brief peek into my fabulous life. It really is fabulous you know. I live in a beautiful house in a beautiful place surrounded by beautiful people all doing fabulous things. Hard to complain.

What are the fabulous things I have been doing? Well, I am trying to get back on the college FM station as a DJ, something I did off and on for ten years way back in another life time. Imagine being surrounded by thousands of albums and CD's and being able to explore all of that music. I get exhausted just thinking about it.

I play volleyball on Monday nights. I crew for a friend on his boat for the Wednesday night races. I am volunteering for the local Maritime Museum, trying to improve the steam engine exhibit that they have there.

I am toying with the idea of buying a motorcycle side-car rig. Never mind all of the other auto related projects that are on my never ending to-do list.

I recently traveled to the Big City to hear one of my favorite musicians of all time - Bruce Cockburn, who put on a fab concert. We got seats about 10 feet in front of him.

My son is graduating from high school this year so we are in full transition mode for that. There are parties to plan and attend. There are college preparations to make and deadlines to meet. He is full of travel plans for the summer, blissfully unconcerned with the financial realities involved. What life will look like once he is out of the house is difficult for me to comprehend.

My health continues to be good in the overall scheme of things. The big nasties are under control and I deal with the little inconveniences that seem to accompany the addition of years to one's life as best I can. I could do with losing some weight and getting more exercise (both on my to-do list BTW), but overall I really have much to be grateful for.

This feeling of gratitude for my place in life is compounded when I look around at the trials and tribulations that so many in the world have to deal with. I have been a very lucky and blessed individual. But enough of that.

How bout them politicians - eh! How would we get along without the soap opera that is our government. I don't know about you, but in my state, the taxpayers just funded a session that produced nothing but fodder for comedians and fueled the flames of discontent. And we can't hold a candle to places like Wisconsin, Michigan, Indiana, and Texas. What is going on? The electorate should bend over and take a serious spanking for electing such a bunch of paranoid, uptight, ideologues who cannot budge an inch from their respective positions that do not represent the constituencies that so regrettably elected them. Forget the apocalypse. At least that would be quick. In reality, we have to live with these bozo's until the next election, and then, given our recent track record, we will do it all over again with the same zombies wearing different faces. Oi.

Well, thanks for listening. I feel better now. Bye.

Spring Cleaning

2011-03-29T10:48:00.002-05:00

It might be a bit premature to declare that spring is here in the northland, but hope "springs" eternal. At least it is a sunny day that looks warm from the inside of the house. The local ski season is over here. The hill closed last Sunday followed by the end-of-year party for the employees and volunteers. That means that I will have to find other ways of using my time.

I have a long list of vehicle related issues that I could work on, but I am having difficulty working up the proper level of enthusiasm. It's still too cold and not all of the snow has melted to do yard and garden work. There are a couple of inside jobs that I should get done and I am making lists in my head for those materials. The flower boxes need to be emptied and the hanging plant pots need to come down off the deck. I never got around to cutting the hop vines down last fall, so those need to go as well. Sigh, maybe on a warmer day.

I have gotten fat and sassy over the winter and am now vowing to myself to get back on my bike as soon as the first good rains wash the remains of old man winter's salt and gravel off of the roads. There are trails to hike as well.

One of the guys I patrolled with this winter has a sailboat that he races every Wednesday evening during the season and I hope to join her crew as a deck hand when things get going. I am going to try to try to explore some more volunteer opportunities too. There is a classic example of a great lakes bulk carrier - an ore boat to those of us living here - moored along side of the Duluth arena/auditorium/convention center. Volunteer staffers lead tours during the summer season and since I sailed the great lakes on ships just like this one, I would be interested in taking groups through the ship and introducing them to a lifestyle that most will never experience.

I have also volunteered at our local maritime museum. Hopefully this will help keep me busy over the summer.

In other news, we have a graduating senior lurking about and plans for his "mandatory" grad party are underway. Seems he invited everyone he knows on-line (roughly 1500 people) so the outcome will be interesting. Unfortunately, the day he picked coincides with Grandma's Marathon, where I will be working, which is only one of many problems with that date. Anyone coming from out of town will have to sleep in their car because all of the hotel rooms have been booked for months. More on this in a later post.

That's it for now. See ya.

Mayo Trip

2011-02-10T11:29:00.002-06:00

Hello faithful readers (all one or two of you). It's time for a Mayo update.

I just returned from one of my quarterly visits to this mecca of medical care and the bottom line is good. Scan clear, bloodwork good, new cute nurse practitioner did the physical. Doesn't get much better. The only negatives were the long drives down and back and the down time at the clinic itself.

Oh, and the four attempts to find a vein for the CT dye. All of my veins are in deep hiding under the witness protection program. My arms look like I was attacked by a porcupine.

Now I am back and writing this from the ski hill where I patrol on Thursdays. It is bitterly cold which means we are doing most of our patrolling from inside the SP room. The only people on the hill are students from a large school group. So far this morning we have had one case of frost bite and one injured wrist on a snow boarder. Pretty typical for a weekday.

Trying to stay warm in Minnesnowta's icebox.

Crisis Management Failure

2010-12-26T13:42:00.002-06:00

We started planning for Christmas far enough in advance to get everything done that we wanted to do. We planned the cards, we planned the family gifts that we would hand make, we made our lists of gifts for others (well, some of us did better than others). We looked at our schedules and planned when we would travel. In short, our planning was well done.

Our execution however sucked big time.

The cards are sitting behind me. Signed, but unsent. The hand made family gifts have been cannibalized to feed a surprise dinner party that occurred last night. Risa is on her way to the Twin Cities to see family members down there and instead of giving them our home made food baskets, she will have to stop at a grocery store down there to see if she can purchase a replacement. The focaccia bread I planned on making refused to rise on Christmas eve. I baked it anyway yesterday and it came out too dense and not tasty enough. I spent all day Christmas Eve running around buying the gifts I still had not purchased instead of making focaccia bread. In short, the run up to Christmas was a blur of blind panic.

On the bright side, we now have a whole lot of very spicy spaghetti sauce on hand, twenty-four mason jars, and twelve reusable grocery tote bags, and four flat focaccia loaves. We will try to repair our gift bags/contents and get them out by new years. Maybe.

Christmas morning was actually quite nice this year. It was just us and my two kids (plus the ten pound poodle and the fifteen pound cat). The poodle helped unwrap the gifts with vigor though she refused to wear her santa hat for longer than a few seconds.

That's the news from the casa on the hill overlooking the big inland sea. Have a great holiday all.

Mayo Time

2010-11-10T16:56:00.002-06:00

It's been a while. My excuses are the same old ones - busy, everything is pretty much OK, get lost in life. I don't have a message to pound out, so I write when I have something to say, which isn't often these days.

Today was a Mayo day for me. It's a bit more involved now that I live further north. I drove down to the Twin Cities yesterday, hooked up with some friends over beverages, and then stayed at a friend's house. I was up at the pre-butt-crack of dawn and on the road to the Mayo in the dark.

The routine there is pretty much the same each time. I get blood drawn about 7 AM followed by a CT scan with icky contrast. Both of these activities involve getting stuck. It's a good day when they strike oil on the first punch. Today was a good day in that respect. Once the CT is over, I can finally eat (I have to fast until then), so it was off to Mac's (Greek) Cafe for a late breakfast.

Then I usually have down time until I see the doc. This can be anywhere between one and four hours. When I am down there by myself, I usually try to find an empty barco lounger up on the tenth floor and get a few ZZZZ's. Today I scored one right off the bat and proceeded to stretch out, cover my eyes with my cap, and drop into a snooze - only to wake my self up with a giant snort as jaw muscles relaxed allowing my jaw to drop open and my tongue to fall back in my throat. No doubt this was hugely amusing to those sitting around me.

I finally did drop off to sleep long enough for all feeling in my arms and hands to abandone me. I awoke feeling like someone had chopped off both extremities and screwed in wooden replacements.

When I did get in to see the doc, the report was good. No sign of the lymphoma and my lungs looked clear on the scan. Just so she would have something to worry about, I bumped my cholesterol up for her.

Now I am back in the Twin Cities again (in the dark) and will be joining another friend to help celebrate his birthday before crashing at his house. Tomorrow morning I will make my way back up north and home. Fortunately I only have to do this four times a year now rather than monthly as it was in the beginning.

That's it for now. Buh-buh-bye.

Home is the Sailer, Home from the Sea

2010-09-14T11:27:00.002-05:00

Spent last weekend aboard a 40 foot sloop noodling around the Apostle Islands along Superior's south shore. We had wind, rain, and high seas. Consequently, we spent each night moored in a marina rather than tucking into some harbor amongst the islands. And since we were in a marina, that meant that there were plentiful opportunities to sample the nightlife surrounding such. This left me with numerous bruises of unknown parentage that plague me still. Sailing was great though. Gives me thoughts of chucking it all and taking to the sea as soon as my youngest is off to college (next year).

We will see (or is it "sea")?

It's transition time for the seasons here in northern Minnesnowta. Temps are dropping. Winds are rising. The clouds are changing from the puffy cotton ball variety and the towering mega cell storm monsters that float through our summer skies, to the low, dark, sky-cloaking clouds of winter that promise snow before we are ready for it.

With that in mind, I am going to re-join the local ski patrol as a way of getting outside and exercising on a regular basis. This means weeks of schooling during the fall to pick up the necessary first aid and outdoor emergency care certificates I will need, followed by on-the-hill training as soon as there is white stuff on the ground.

This is the third time I have done this. If you are a ranked patroller and you quit patroling for any time, you lose all of your certificates and ranks. If you want to start again, you start at the bottom and work your way back up. Seems a little silly, but that's the way it is. So, I cannot wear my old patrol jacket with all of my patches. I must don the garb of the initiate and pretend I know nothing for a season.

I don't mind all of that so much since I am doing it for the exercise and the social networking aspect. My needs will be satisfied regardless of my "rank." If I get to help someone in need - so much the better.

This time of year also means that hunters in this neck of the woods are checking their guns and brushing up the training of their dogs. I look forward to walks in the woods with our remaining dog - a ten pound terror that goes by the name of Saffron. She cuts quite the figure when out in the woods, dressed in a red t-shirt with the name "Princess" in rhinestones on the chest, overlaid with a hot-pink harness, and topped off with a day-glo orange hunting cape. She has stopped more than one hunter in their tracks when they encountered her on the trail.

The fact that she is more interested in chipmunks than game birds is beside the point. The point is the walk in the woods with all the sounds, smells, and colors of fall.

It is also back to school time. I have successfully delivered my oldest to her third year at university and my youngest has begun his senior year of high school. The house is very quiet during the day now.

My days are taken up with the necessary projects that go with the return of fall and the pending winter. Cleaning gutters and getting the gardens and shrubs ready for cold weather. Moving the mower to the back of the garage and the snow-blower to the front. Swapping the summer wheels off and the winter wheels on the cars that have more than one set. Finding all of the ski equipment and making sure all is well there. Thinking about whether to try for an annual letter to mail out to those kin and friends that don't read blogs or facebook. Checking my hot buttered rum supplies and putting the gin and tonic stuff to the back of the cupboard. Buying new smart wool socks. Thinking about letting my hair start growing out again.

In short - preparing.

Ciao fer niaow.

Muggy Madtown

2010-08-30T16:49:00.003-05:00

Sitting outside a Starbux in Madison, Wisconsin. This is my second visit in as many weeks, the result of a breeding experiment conducted some twenty some years ago. Said experiment is supposed to join me shortly and I thought I would dash off something short and witty in the meantime.

Hmmmm, well short anyway.

I am delivering stuff to number one daughter. Stuff that didn't fit in the car on trip number one last week. What's a six hour drive anyway? What else am I going to do with my time? These will be the moments I remind her of when she is complaining about changing my diapers in a few years.

OK, she's here. More later.

Still Alive

2010-08-10T12:28:00.006-05:00

At first it's just business that gets in the way. Then it becomes purposeful procrastination. Ultimately, guilt overlays all, requiring a concerted effort to log back in and open the blog. Once there, one must think of something to say and one realizes that one cannot remember what has happened since one's last confession. Sigh - I am just not cut out for this blogging thing.

I really admire the ones who buckle down and provide a daily entry and am in absolute awe of those who blog in a running stream of consciousness manner with multiple entries per day. Me, I have a difficult time unless there is something of import to talk about and when life is just trundling along, I tend to get caught up in all the little things that go along with that and forget to write.

Such is the case now. Life here on the great inland sea has been basking in our short summer. The deck plants are lovely with hops and morning glory's climbing the large upright supports of the timbered arbor above our deck. We planted some dwarf lilacs along the edge of the driveway to replace a couple of venerable bushes lost during the construction phase of the house project.

The summer has been one of activities and festivals. We had the Homegrown Music Festival that saw 150 local musical acts performing at dozens of different venues over a seven-day period. We made a concerted effort to see as many as we could but just put a dent in the line-up. Then there was Grandma's Marathon followed by the Park Point Art Fair. Just last week the city hosted the Tall Ship Festival where eight tall ships made the journey to the head of the lakes where they were on display for tours and some took visitors out day sailing. There was one from Germany, another from the Netherlands. A bunch named the East Coast as their home ports and some were from other harbors here in the Great Lakes region.

This event probably holds the cup for the most people brought into town to attend. Local merchants were smiling as the cash registers rang non-stop.

Now, we are looking forward to the Bayfront Blues Festival which will run for three days this coming weekend. This event brings in national acts every year for our bluesy enjoyment. This year we have headliners like Elvin Bishop and Dr. John. Can't wait.

When you consider all of these festivals that are designed to bring tourists in from out of town, you have to be impressed by the balls of the Minnesota DOT for tearing up every freeway, street, and alley in the entire city. This is the summer of "you can't get there from here." The city's transportation matrix is a nefarious puzzle akin to a Rubic's Cube that changes daily. An intersection that was open yesterday is closed today, requiring the determined traveler to find roundabout routes that take them through locations of the city that they have never before visited - which, in a perverse sort of way, is not a bad thing. To tell you the truth, I have kind of enjoyed the whole experience for that reason alone. It has slowed things down and forced folks to be inventive. I suspect that I am in the minority in this case and should those around me find out that I am secretively taking pleasure in the driving conundrums they face every day, that I would be strung up by my heels and lashed with wet noodles.

On the family front, my son continues to work two jobs to support his social activities that seem to keep him living out of a car and spending the minimal amount of time at home. My daughter is also working two jobs, but is preparing for her return to college in another week. My significant other has been forced to secure a new (to her) vehicle after she totaled her other one trying to avoid one of the many suicidal deer that delight in leaping into the paths of oncoming vehicles in this neck of the woods. Her search and seizure program has been drawn out to a ludicrous extent by one snafu after another regarding her car of choice. Hopefully all will be well shortly.

And I have been enjoying having by body explored by flexible scopes going everywhere such things can go. Some of these were routine invasions that anyone over the age of 55 can look forward to. Others have been attempts to define and understand my chronic lung and sinus plague that has been my constant companion for these last two years. We all blame it on the experimental chemo drug that I have been taking as part of the Mayo study, but attempts to banish it have so far proven useless.

I am happy to report however, that some of the more unwelcome aspects of said plague seem to be getting better (knock on wood). Perhaps it is due to halving my dosage rate of the chemo drug by going to every other day. Perhaps it is something else. Or perhaps I am delusional and it is only going through another of its periodic mutations. Only time will tell on this one.

Well, that's about it from this speck of the planet. Hopefully I can be a little more responsible about keeping this up. I know that you are all hanging on the edge of your seats for these updates into our fascinating lives. With that, I bid you adieu.

Marathons, Visitors, and the Sweats

2010-06-24T11:24:00.002-05:00

As I mentioned in the last post, Grandma's Marathon was coming up. It is now receding into the past. The runners ran (and walked), the bazzilians of paper cups have been picked up, and the hoards have mostly left town (at least until the next big thing).

We were blessed by a visit from Moose of Give a Moose a Muffin fame. See was here to visit with family and then to work the medical tent at the finish line. It was fun to see her and to meet her sister and her aunt.

The visit was short but still nice. She was leaving the day after the marathon to head west for more family and to check in on the housekeeping of another well known blogger that she went to school with in Montana. Safe travels.

Around here this week it has all been about new phones. My son has been camping out at the ATT store so he can score one of the first Apple 4GS iPhones to hit town. Then he is off to Vermont on a road trip with a classmate and her mom to check out some schools and drop his friend off at a camp. He was recruited to help with the driving and because the mom thinks he is a good conversationalist.

The girl is recharging her batteries by staying mostly in bed except when she is not working. Who knew that younguns could sleep so much.

As for me, I have been struggling with fatigue. I am still fighting the lung congestion and attendant sinus issues. Plus I have been running low grade fevers on and off. All of this has left me feeling like all of the energy has been sucked out of me. It's a drag.

Risa and I walked down the hill to watch the marathon, but I couldn't make it more than a few blocks before I had to sit down and rest. Not normal for me at all. The climb back up the hill to the house went very slowly.

I talked to the Mayo people about it, but there wasn't much they could suggest. Well, I let you know how it goes.

TTFN

Mayo Results

2010-06-11T07:41:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was a Mayo day. It was a followup visit to my regularly scheduled trip last month. The purpose was to do another chest scan to see if my chronic lung condition had gotten better after being off the experimental drug for four weeks. In the interim, I have been on a high-dose course of prednisone (say hello to chipmunk cheeks) and a strong antibiotic. Now for the test.

The results were good. My lungs were almost completely clear as opposed to last month where spidery tendrils and shadowy masses showed in the scan. So, dear readers, I am allowed to continue taking the study drug for now.

The doc and I decided that I would go back on, but cut my dosage in half by taking it every other day. In three months time, I will go back for a full scan to see what the lymphoma is doing. So, that's that.

It was a long day though. We got up at 5 AM for the drive to Rochester. We stayed in the Twin Cities last night and will do some supply shopping today before heading back to Duluth. Looks like a very rainy day here right now.

Sometime this week, one of our favorite bloggers is rumored to be hitting town from Alaska. She said something about the "marathon" which would have to be Grandma's Marathon, one of the most beautiful runs in the country stretching out along the shores of Lake Superior and finishing up in historical Canal Park in Duluth. We are hoping that she might have time for a visit and barley time on the deck. Will let you know.

Mending

2010-05-29T10:31:00.002-05:00

This has been a week of recuperation after a long haul of exhausting work.

Last weekend, we had the big moving/yard/garage/rummage sale and that nearly did me in. Both days I was kicked inside by noon by my caregivers and put to bed with fevers.

The week before, I went to the Mayo for a regular 90-day checkup and the news was good/bad. The good was that the NHL was still in clinical remission - no sign of disease. The bad was that my lungs were worse - more stuff showing up in the CT scan. So we decided that I would go off the experimental drug for 28 days, the maximum allowed under the rules of the study, to see if I could clear up the chronic lung/sinus problems that have been plaguing me for the last two years.

Then there were the fevers. I felt the first on come on as my daughter and I were returning home after picking her up in Madison at the end of the school year. For two weeks I was running mostly low-grade fevers that left me racked with chills and sweats and with no energy whatsoever. This made preparations for the big sale even more difficult. Fortunately there were lots of others chipping in to make it work. We moved a lot of stuff out and made enough to keep the family in groceries for a while.

So, back to the medical side for a minute. After the sale, I could barely get out of bed. The coughing had risen to new levels and I had to irrigate my sinuses each morning to clear out the gremlins that had taken up residence over night. Not good. Plus the fevers started to spike higher.

I consulted with my GP and we decided to see a Pulmonologist. I was able to get in last Wednesday and am now on a high-dose steroid regimen that will taper down over the next three weeks (my deadline for the lung fix). In addition, I am taking a strong antibiotic to counter act the immune system depression caused by the prednisone.

Is it working? Well, no fevers for four out of the past five days. My sinuses have improved dramatically and I can breath through the night. The coughing has improved but has quite a way to go. I have more energy and can actually enjoy the days again.

I am optimistic at this point. I need to kick this thing because when I go back to the Mayo in three weeks for another scan, I need to show improvement. If not, I am probably out of the study.

We will see. More later.

Spring Cleaning

2010-05-11T12:20:00.002-05:00

Here is a long over due update on all things Casa du Nord.

We have just finished a week long, 150 band, musical celebration called Home Grown Duluth. We saw only a small percentage of the groups, but it was a chance to get out and listen to new music and see old friends.

In between music and celebrations (and the results of celebrating), we have been trying to get ready for our first annual spring junk sale. All of the garages are full with our stuff that we have decided to recycle into the greater community. All of the cars are sad, sitting out in the cold Duluth weather.

Speaking of weather, we had the usual Duluth bait-n-switch scam run on us this year (as we do every year) where we get a string of really nice days that make us put the summer tires on our cars, plant all kinds of seedlings for an indoor start, and start pulling those summer clothes out of storage. Oh cruel fate. Our wishes and prayers were dashed when the temps plummeted again into the twenties, several inches of snow fell last weekend, and the morning glories have climbed eight feet up their strings and are taking over the living room ceiling.

It's also end of the school year around here and that means proms, honors banquets, parties, and those pesky checks to the graduates to help them on their way into the entitlement economy. Joe is finishing up his junior year, but because so many of his friends are seniors, it's just like going through a practice run. I keep raising the subject of college but so far the fire does not appear to have been lit. He did take the ACT test and got a decent score, but he says he wants to do it again and do better. I take that as a positive sign.

I leave this Friday to pick up Kate in Madison. She appears to have had a successful year. Because she has reached the age of emancipation, the college does not give me access to her grades, preferring that she share that info with me directly. And, even though I have not heard from her on that subject, I have great confidence in her.

I did get a call from her last week where she broke the news that she had been elected Chief Justice of the student judiciary for next year. The is a huge honor for her and even carries a financial stipend that will allow her to cover most of her room and board as well. Congrats to her.

And for me - well, I haven't been feeling well to be honest. It's not the kind of "ill" that I associate with the return of NHL, but rather like having a low-grade flu all the time. As I have reported before, the experimental drug I am taking through the Mayo study has proven successful at driving my NHL into remission, but at a secondary cost. I have a chronic lung and sinus condition that keeps me supporting the Kleenex industry single handedly. All of this has me just this side of a serious infection - similar to the one that put me in the hospital nearly a year ago. I don't want to repeat that, but I also don't want to stop taking the drug. It's a quandary.

I am scheduled to go down to the Mayo next week for my quarterly checkup and we will see what they say.

Well, that's about it and even though the world appears to be going to hell in a hand basket, I remain hopeful that we can bring a little peace and calm to this little piece of the planet.

TTFN

The Eyes Have It

2010-04-26T10:45:00.002-05:00

Woke up Sunday morning with a good dose of pink eye. Some of the goo living just south of there must have crawled up a tear duct and gone Saturday night dancing.

Stink eye has to be one of the least appreciated things to wake up with. Your laying in bed slowly rising to consciousness, dwelling on the question of why you can't open your right eye. Depending on what you were doing last night, this state can last quite a while. Eventually however, you must grapple with the issue and reaching up blindly, you encounter - yuck - icky stuff all over the sick eye. It's just not a good way to start the day.

Speaking of "not good" ways to start the day, I have to tell you the antibiotic that I finally got the insurance company to OK (even though I had to pay full price because I haven't hit my deductible) is known as one that Shermanizes your gut, as in it marches through there torching all that gets in its way which means that whatever I eat comes straight out like it was stuffed into a garden hose with the water turned up high. That's how I started today.

It's a good thing I am retired and able to look at this with a sense of humor because otherwise I might do something irrational and make the national news.

It's Snot Funny

2010-04-23T10:41:00.003-05:00

My ongoing cold/flu/lung rot saga has taken a dip into slimier territory. I woke up this morning with no voice and a very sore throat. Having already seen my doc for this week (Tuesday for pneumonia symptoms), all it took was a phone call to get a script faxed in.

BUT when I called my pharma, they told me the script wasn't covered by my insurance and it was $120 for seven pills. Back the boat up Barbie.

Back on the horn to the doc (or his people as the case may be) to see if there is an alternative.

This kind of stuff happens to me all the time and it really frosts my nuggies. Even though a particular prescription would be the best treatment for my particular set of conditions, I can't (economically) get it because some bean counter at the insurance company figures out that they can't make as many millions off that particular set up - DENIED.

Why in the world can't the people in this country get their heads around the concept of universal care where physicians can treat their patients the best way they know how. When that question gets put to the masses what comes back is that it is communism and it will cost too much. My current medical insurance is medicare (government run, socialized insurance) and for the most part it is fine. But the Part D prescription coverage was written by some very twisted fucks must have done it in the middle of a peyote induced trance. Nobody in their right mind could have come up with the loopy shit in Part D.

As for costing too much, we already pay more per person as a society than any other civilized country on the planet and there is no proof anywhere that we get better coverage for that particular honor. Plus we pay for all of the uninsured already through emergency rooms and charity hospital coverage.

It's like we can't see the world in front of our faces. This country is in severe denial and apparently celebrating it with tea parties.

All I want is to put my tax dollars to work taking care of me and mine rather than lining the pockets of war contractors around the world.

OK, that's done. I don't feel well and I am crabby.

I is Risen

2010-04-05T10:41:00.002-05:00

I am back from the dead - well, not really dead, just kind of hanging out.

We had 21 over for Easter dinner last night. New record in hospitality for the new/old house. Extra leaf in the main table plus two auxiliary tables, used all the plates and silverware kind of meal. We had apricot-glazed ham, grilled orange-glazed salmon, seven layer salad, cheesy potatoes, cornbread casserole, wild rice hot-dish, green beans, bunny cake, and gluten free almond tort. Yum.

This is the birthday season. Risa's was the 28th, mine the 1st, numerous friends and relations celebrating on either side of those dates. Makes me wonder what goes on nine months previous to produce such a batch of BD's.

Marisa gave me a new driver (golf club) as a gift after I complained that I needed more head on my stick so I guess that I will have to play more golf now. Some of the courses are open up here, weeks ahead of the normal schedule. Maybe we will go to a driving range today so I can try the new thing out.

Two old friends of mine came up from the twin cities over the weekend and paid a visit. I was reminded how important friends are and how easy it is to neglect the care and feeding of friends when miles grow between you. These are two guys I used to work with many years ago and we formed a strong friendship that has seen us through the ups and downs of life now for nearly twenty years. We have seen each other raise our children, say farewell to spouses and enter into new relationships. We have taken care of each other when serious health issues intruded into our lives. And recently, we have gone long periods without seeing one another so their visit this weekend was most welcome. I must make a greater effort to reach out to those who matter to me.

My daughter is now back to school after a week here at home. I miss her tremendously especially after a visit. She does not intend to return this summer but stay in Madison and seek work. She has to pay for her apartment in any case and sub-letting sounds like a large hassle. This is a sad thought for me to entertain.

This upcoming week is my son's spring break. We thought about driving up the north shore of Lake Superior for a mini-vacation, but he has to work every night this week meaning that we can only do a day-trip. We invited my mother to go along when we do go and last night Marisa's niece asked to go as well. This will mean a full car for sure. We'll see if it really happens.

Well, enough news from here. I will try to post more often as I see a distinct falling off of activity on many of the blogs I follow. Was this just a fad do you suppose?

Home Again, Home Again, Jigity Jig

2010-03-18T20:26:00.002-05:00

My east coast exile is over and I am back in the bosom of fly-over land and happy to sleep in my own bed and shit in my own bathroom - the basic comforts of home.

While my time in New York and Brooklyn was fun, I am glad to be back.

The snow is all gone, the temps have been in the 50 to 60 degree range and I am thinking gin and tonic season. Spent today scraping a winter's worth of dirt, grit, and salt off the garage floor. All is not rosy however. Sposed to be in the thirties starting tomorrow and continuing through the weekend. Maybe some snow. I will stay in bed under the covers.

It's time to think about planting things. I want to get some lilac plants in the ground soon and to seed what is now a muddy slope with wild flowers. I already retrieved the rain barrel that blew down the hill and put it back in its summer spot. Now I am just waiting for the buds to push out.

Yesterday, we went down to Park Point (a seven mile long sand spit that separates Lake Superior from the Duluth/Superior harbor) to let the dog run and I wound up tying my jacket around my waist and walking along the beach on the unmelted ice which occasionally collapsed under my weight, shooting water out the sides. It was a spectacular day for this part of the country in the middle of march.

It used to be that the ice pack would still be shoved into the western tip of Lake Superior well into June in a normal year if the wind was out of the north or northeast as was a common occurrence. Someday, Duluth could be a tropical paradise. There would be no one to appreciate it, but it could come to be.

Till then, I enjoy.

Heading Home

2010-03-14T21:50:00.002-05:00

Well, it's been a slice, but tomorrow I must leave the epicenter of every New Yorker's heart and return to the invisible middle of the country. It is where I feel comfortable and at home. I love coming out here, but I am always happy to return to where I was born and grew up (if not older).

I tried to do the right things while here. I visited museums (four) and rode the subways. I walked until my legs stopped working. I stopped into funky little pubs and supported the local micro brews. I tried not to look or act like a hick, but I am sure the natives could tell.

It would have been more fun with someone to share it with. Food alone is never as good as with a friend. Besides, the Museum of Sex is not a place to visit by oneself. Perhaps next time.

Notes from the Big Apple

2010-03-12T14:10:00.002-06:00

Well, my posh days in the heart of the theater district are at an end. I was a guest for two nights at the Sheridan Towers on 7th Avenue in Manhattan, sandwiched between Times Square and Central Park South. It was posh and spendy. You couldn't find a cheap meal other than a pretzel from a corner vendor, but the theaters and fancy restaurants were everywhere. And if the local distractions were not enough, the subway entrances were all over the place to whisk you away to wherever you wanted to go.

Now, I am in a pretty seedy part of Brooklyn in a nice room at the Holiday Inn Express with a long hike to get anywhere of interest. More on that later.

While across the East River, I took advantage of the MOMA's (Museum of Modern Art) nearby location (two blocks from the hotel) to take in an exhibit on Tim Burton which I found fascinating. I was going to go to the Museum of Sex, but got sidetracked when my youngest brother, who lives in Manhattan, called to see if I wanted to bum around SoHo and the Village.

One of my favorite things is walking around the city with my brother. He is the family historian and knows a lot of fascinating things about New York and its history. We look at buildings and he explains when they were built, the famous people who lived and died in them, off the cuff remarks like "The first elevator in the world was installed in that building by Mr. Otis." Stuff like that.

We wound up meeting an old friend of his and her husband who were in town to celebrate a birthday which took us to a pub for drinks and conversation. Later, we did more wandering, pubbing, and finally some dining where I had quite possibly the largest hamburger I have ever seen. We capped it off with some expensive single malt at a Scottish bar and restaurant before my brother headed back to home in Washington Heights, and I went around the corner to Times Square and up 7th Avenue to my hotel.

Today I made the hotel switch after zig-zagging around a four by six block area looking for a place that still served breakfast. I finally got in out of the rain at a european cafe where I had a very nice onion and lox omelet with black coffee and fruit whilst reading the NY Times. By the time I looked at the clock, I realized that I had ten minutes to get back to the hotel, pack, and check out. Needless to say, it was a rush.

Getting to my new place was deceptively easy. Out the door, turn left, left again and down the stairs to the subway where I caught the D-train all the way to Brooklyn. I got off at the nearest exit which still left me a nine block walk in the rain through a stretch where all of the storefront signs were in Arabic. Not too many white faces along the way. I finally found the hotel which seems to be parked in the middle of an area specializing in auto wreckage, construction companies, and vacant lots. Hmmmm.

The staff has been very nice however and the room and bathroom are quite nice, though a little cramped after the king sized bed was plopped down. The internet is complementary and the TV is a flat screen that is place actually in front of the bed (as opposed to being off to one side in a cabinet that prevented viewing from just about anywhere in the room) which was not the case in one of my more recent motel experiences.

Now, I am about to venture out in search of a six-pack if I can find a grocery store within walking distance. Wish me luck.

The Reluctant Tourist

2010-03-08T16:24:00.002-06:00

I am leaving tomorrow for the east coast. Originally, Risa and I were to go with the purpose of the trip to see her college friend and a god-son. Since I was going along, I wanted to also see my brother who lives in Manhattan, so I got us a hotel room for two nights just off Central Park south. Then things went to shit.

Risa's friend requested time off, but was denied, so she has to work from noon until 8 PM Friday and Saturday. In addition, her aunt, the matriarch of the family (where we were going to stay) was just diagnosed with breast cancer and everyone is going down to Philadelphia on Sunday morning to get her started on treatment.

Risa's ticket is flexible. Mine is not. Plus I pricelined the hotel which is non-refundable. So I am off to NYC by myself for five days. Normally I would be excited about the trip, but right now, it feels like a lonely excursion.

Fortunately my brother has rescued me from spending the last three days wrapped in newspaper in the subway tunnels even though space is pretty tight in his apartment. If there are any NYC readers out there, give me a shout and we can get together for a beverage.

I will have on-line access so if you have suggestions for things I should do, please let me know.

Tata for now.

A Lost Week

2010-02-26T12:28:00.002-06:00

This is day five now of the current malaise. It started last Sunday night with fevers and chills, swept across Monday and Tuesday as a semi-hallucinogenic fog that seldom saw me out of bed. I thought the corner had been turned on Wednesday, again on Thursday, but now on Friday I am going to cave and see the shaman's.

For the most part it has been a run of the mill fever/chills type flu (I think), but these were the conditions that preceded my near miss with the reaper last June. I don't need that again.

The worst part as far as I am concerned is the fatigue. I start to feel a little better, do some chores, take a shower, and then the bed turns into a giant black hole that pulls me inexorably down, down, down. It just kills my productivity rate (which was none too high before).

My son has some similar plague that has kept him home for the last four days. We are quite a pair. We both hibernate when feeling ill so we can go for quite some time without seeing one another. I have to struggle to remember to call the school to tell them he will be once again, absent.

Things could be a lot worse of course. I no longer need to worry about being fired for missing work. I have someone who looks after me attentively (thanks R). I get to hang out in pleasant surroundings while feeling horrible. Must remember the good stuff.

Tried to go out with friends to a Japanese restaurant last night, but it was all kind of dream like. Only part of me was there. I was wasted by the time we got home. Tried to stay up but was in bed shaking by 10. Woke up at 3 AM with a 102.8 deg fever. That's what lead me to call for a doctor appointment. With all of my baggage, anything over 101.5 is a warning sign.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Phadreous in Wonderland

2010-02-13T09:58:00.004-06:00

I am sitting at a kitchen table in Plymouth, Minnesota, a suburb of the Twin Cities, drinking coffee and looking out of the window on a white fairy land of hoar frost coated trees, bushes, fences - all is white. There are some impressive icicles hanging down from the eave above the window, identifying this house as one likely built in the sixties with inadequate insulation and ineffective ventilation of the unheated portion of the roof substructure.

It's a most eclectic house with strange and beautiful objects placed in random abandonment throughout, or to use Regretsy language, whimsical fuckery. It's a hippy house in the middle of an otherwise very straight and uptight subdivision full of waspish folk who view anyone coming or going from this particular abode with dislike and suspicion.

In the living room is the lower half of a manikin propped up in a chair in front of the picture window. There is a ten foot frond of whale baleen hanging on the wall over the stairs. The house is full of chewed and ratty furniture that were once whole but have fallen now in social status due to a pack of feral dogs that never heard of a command - somewhat similar to the children who grew up here.

Don't get me wrong. This house has had a lot of love expressed - just a free living style. Like I said, hippies.

The other half of the manikin is hanging in a tree outside the kitchen window along with two old multi-paned window frames (with glass), a stained glass lamp, and a large, old styled bird cage. These trees have never seen trimming and spread in every direction. Next to the trees is a swimming pool identified only by a pale turquoise slide, a diving board, and the top of a tubular handrail poking up out of the snow. It's a pristine scene. In the summer, I understand the pool takes on a different appearance. It is a chemical free zone so the water is more like that of a pond, changing with the seasons. Like the house, cleaning is kind of a foreign concept.

The owners of this most interesting place are teachers, now in India. Of the children, now grown, there are three girls and one boy. One of the girls is in Europe, one in Texas, and one in residence here. The son is off in Japan - three years now. The daughter who is living here is Risa's half sister, hence our connection. We passed the night here after I drove up from Rochester and the Mayo clinic. We connected yesterday afternoon and then drove back down to the center of the city to listen to my son play in his orchestra string group at a musical celebration of the states finer musicians. Not that my son would qualify as one of the finer musicians. It's just that his school is so small, anyone who expresses interest is automatically a member of the ensemble. Fortunately the talent of the rest of the group compensates for his shortcomings and adequately shields him from unwanted examination in the back row.

It was a lovely concert in a huge, grand old church, built when Minneapolis was a much smaller community.

The sisters are out "shopping" at one of the malls that dot this part of the country. I am thinking of venturing out to find a paper and a spot of breakfast. Then it's back to Duluth and a bit of peace.

Mayo-days

2010-02-11T19:53:00.002-06:00

So, today was one of those needle stick, total body radiation, toxic chemical days at the Mayo. Normally these guys are pros, but once in a while you get a nervous newbie who pokes and pokes without ever getting a bucket of oil. This was the case when I got to the stage where they start an IV prior to the CT scan. Granted, my arms have stuck more than the dart board down at the corner local, but still.

I knew I was in trouble when she kept poking her finger in my inner elbow while mumbling to herself. I finally rotated my arm to give her a peek at a visible vein on the backside which she attempted to tap but wound up cursing at the little bastard before pulling out and switching to the other arm. At that point I was praying that someone with more experience and competence would stroll by and offer a little assistance.

Sometimes the rulers of the universe hear those little pleas and I heard the magic words, "Hey, can you look at this and see if you can feel something?" The pro took over after saying "Well, there is a deep one here. Why don't you get the next one and I will take care of this." And with a determined look on his face, he successfully tapped a vein somewhere down deep and taped everything in place. My poor arms look like pin cushions.

After that, everything was fairly straight forward. I managed not to puke during the CT (the dye they shoot into the IV just before the scan tends to make me nauseous). I got to eat after that and pigged out at a Greek cafe with the special of the day - Greek omelet. I even got to go back to the motel for a brief moment in between appointments to check email.

The result of all of this is that there continues to be no sign of the lymphoma (yea), but the lungs look worse, which was no surprise to me because half way through last weeks ski camp my lungs protested the lack of oxygen and the overwork placed upon them by filling up with the body's equivalent of land fill. Plus my sinus's sprung a leak so that when I would lie down to sleep, my nasal passages would either swell shut or start leaking blood, or both alternately, while my lungs sounded like they were sloshing with each breath.

I told the doc not to worry about the scan - that it was the effect of over exertion at high altitudes and that I would probably get better. She bought it and I was set free. Well, kind of. I have to go to a "lipids clinic" tomorrow (hence the motel). See, my cholesterol has been a little high (like for the last forty years of my life) and the doc is concerned. So, to stay on her good side, I agreed to this appointment. So, tomorrow I will learn all of the good things I should be doing to lower the scourge of the blood system.

Actually, I think that a nice quick massive coronary wouldn't be a bad way to go. I actually did everything I could to bring one on while at ski camp. Not so intentionally, but going all out at 13,000 feet is one great heart stress test. The ticker kept up though. Who knew?

OK, have a good weekend out there wherever you are.

Cashew Chili Recipe

2010-02-03T16:43:00.002-06:00

There were a few requests for the chili recipe mentioned in the previous post, so here it is. This comes from the Cabbagetown Cookbook.

1 1/2 cups uncooked pinto or kidney beans, sorted for stones and rinsed
6 cups water
2 bay leaves
2 T light vegetable oil
2 onions chopped
4 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
2 green peppers, chopped
2 celery stalks, chopped
1 T butter
2 T ground cumin
1 T ground coriander
1/4 t cayenne
1/2 t dried or finely chopped fresh oregano
1/2 t dried basil or 2 t finely chopped fresh basil
1/2 t dried dill weed or 1 T finely chopped fresh dill
1/2 t black pepper
2 t salt
1 quart canned tomatoes
1/2 cup cashews
2 t red wine vinegar

Measure the beans, water, and bay leaves into a medium-size pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer, partially covered, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking. Cook until the beans are tender, about 2 hours.
In a soup pot, heat the oil. Add the onions and garlic and saute for about 2 minutes. Add the green peppers and celery, and cook until the veggies are tender but still crisp, 8-10 minutes.
Melt in the butter, then add the spices, herbs, pepper, and salt. Saute for 1-2 minutes stirring frequently so nothing burns. (Cooking the spices takes the raw edge off their flavor.)
Add the tomatoes and the tomato juice to the mixture, and crush the tomatoes with a wooden spoon. Simmer for 10 minutes, then remove from the heat until the beans are ready.
Toast the cashews in a 350ºF oven or toaster oven for 20 minutes, or until lightly browned. Be careful not to burn them. Once cashews start to brown, they burn quickly.
Add the cooked beans, liquid and all, to the veggie mixture. Add the toasted cashews and the vinegar. Simmer for 30 minutes to blend the flavors.
Taste and adjust the seasonings.
Serve the chili hot.

OK, so that is the recipe out of the book. I will use canned beans if I am in a hurry. I use more garlic than the recipe calls for. I use diced, fire roasted tomatoes. I use red and orange (or yellow) bell peppers instead of green. If the chili looks too thick before the final simmer, I will sometimes pour in a bottle of beer, or some wine (which ever I am drinking at the stove). Makes a dynamite batch of chili. Serve with salad and bread.

Rocky Mountain Hi

2010-02-02T08:31:00.002-06:00

Greetings from 10,000 feet in the Colorado Rockies. I am attending "ski camp" for the first time in three years, having been detained in the past for reasons of health, death, house issues, and the general flotsam and jetsam of life. Ski camp was formed eleven years ago when my best friend and I went heli-skiing in the Canadian Rockies and met a retired gentleman from Japan who had a passion for skiing. We became good friends and agreed to meet yearly at the Breckenridge condo of my friend for a week of skiing, single malt, and the pleasure of each other's company.

Over the years other camp members have been invited and I, as one of the originals have had a spotty attendance record, but the "camp" itself occurs at this time every year.

This year, I decided to drive out from Minnesota rather than fly. There were a couple of reasons for that, but the primary one was that I was not sure how my chronic lung condition would react to a sudden jump in altitude - going from roughly 400 ft above sea level to almost 10,000 feet above sea level. I thought if I made the trip over two days, gradually gaining altitude, then perhaps I would fair better.

The drive itself was pretty interesting. I was alone for the majority of it. I had a long audio book that saw me through most of the journey and there were plenty of small towns and little cafes to break the driving marathon.

The plains themselves are always interesting to me. Partly because I am so seldom there, but also for the infinite horizon lines and the different light. I saw amazingly large strings of geese over the fields of Nebraska during the early morning and late afternoon hours. They were so numerous that parts of the sky were darkened with snarky clouds that boiled and moved in different directions.

I arrived at the Denver airport right on time to pick up our Japanese friend who flew in from 10 days of skiing out of Salt Lake City. We loaded up the little Prius and headed into the mountains to double our altitude. I was curious to see how the tiny engine in the Prius would handle the long, steep climbs and I was pleasantly surprised when we were able to keep up with the traffic even though the little engine sounded like it was wound pretty tight. We actually were able to average 41 mpg from the airport to the condo in Breckenridge.

That was Sunday and today is Tuesday. Monday was a day for trying out creaky old legs, deflated lungs, anemic circulation systems, and muscles more attuned for movie watching from the couch than trying to shove two hundred pounds of meat, metal, and plastic from side to side whilst traveling at insane speeds down steep slopes.

My friend who owns the condo was gentle with us. He seldom lounges on a couch, lives at this altitude all winter, skis every day and can still wear the clothes he did when in high school. Our Japanese friend just came from ten days of powder skiing in Utah so has a jump start on me altitude wise. This is tempered by the fact that he has more than a decade on us two sexagenarian "athletes."

Then there is me. I am without a doubt in the worst physical condition of my life. I am 30 pounds too heavy. I haven't seen the inside of a gym or the seat of my bicycle in years. Two days before leaving, I had a gout flare up and then left the prescribed medication sitting on the dining room table as I headed out. It was with trepidation that I clamped my feet into my skis yesterday at the bottom of the hill.

I am happy to report that all three of us made it off the mountain without injury and while two went on to the hot tub, I stayed at the condo to prepare a huge pot of cashew chili for later consumption with wine and single malt.

Today has dawned clear and sunny. Another chance for physical mayhem lies before us. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Holiday Catch Up

2009-12-30T10:30:00.002-06:00

Wow, what a lazy blogger I have been. A sure sign that life is going well.

It's the lull between the bookend celebrations. Winter has settled in with a Christmas blizzard that dropped 22" in our immediate vicinity. Right here at the house, we didn't see that much because we were getting a lake-effect warming that turned the second half of the three day storm into mostly rain and sleet. This meant of course, that if you didn't get your shoveling or plowing done right away, everything turned into cement. It's snowing again now, but I am not expecting anything like the Christmas blow.

The puppy is staring out the bedroom picture window in hopes of seeing her little friends the chipmunks (not the ones in the theaters) despite many conversations about how chipmunks sleep through the winter, which I am all in favor of.

Our downstairs tenants now have a little kitten that spends most of her days up here in mock battle with the puppy (who is not really a "puppy" but a five year old toy poodle). This provides me with endless distractions - not that I need any help in that department.

We have a full house once again now that my daughter is home for a month. She had her annual "Spaghetti Ball" the day after Christmas where she invites her posse to a "fancy" dinner and they all get dressed up and hand their car keys over to me for the night. Last year they got locked out of the house after a 3 AM walk to Perkins and had to climb a ladder to the second story to get to an unlocked door. Fortunately things worked better this year.

We have a full complement of parties yet to go to. This coming weekend we head down to the Cities for Risa's paternal family celebration, but before that, we have a family gathering here on New Year's Eve and dinner at a friend's house the next night. Busy busy.

OK, time for me to get on with my chores (as laid out by SWMBO). Talk later.

Winter Stillness

2009-12-05T14:58:00.002-06:00

The girl is back to her studies six hours by road away. The boy is on his way home from the Twin Cities after a night away. Risa is seven hours by road away, celebrating her best friend's birthday. The Old Dawg is in heaven and the Little Dawg is having visitation with her ex-dad. That leaves Isis, the Old Kat who makes infrequent appearances. The house is very quiet.

I am taking advantage of the stillness to bake an experimental batch of cookies from a recipe I found in last Thursday's paper. Calls for a pound of butter and a pound of sliced almonds. How can it go bad?

What I should be doing is moving junk from one "in the way" location to another spot that is "marginally less in the way." I am having motivation problems.

Winter is here finally. We have been having lake effect ice crystals for the past few days. This is the season when the giant lake steams. If we get a real cold blast from Santa on the pole, the water will be much warmer than the air and it will be a fairy scene of mist and ghostly ships floating eerily through the water clouds.

It is my week for Mom duty. She had a driving assessment done about a month ago and the result is that she can no longer drive. This precipitated a change in how the remaining local siblings will deal with support. In the past, my mother would call my sister for assistance whenever it was necessary. This put an unfair burden on my sister which was going to grow worse now that Mom could not use her own car to get around. We had a meeting and decided that we would all take one-week shifts as major care-givers and chauffeurs. This is my week and it has actually been nice to interact with my mother on a more frequent basis.

Yesterday I took her to have her hair done and then a stop at the bank. Today, it was up to the mall for yarn. Tomorrow, I will take her to church. Feels good to be of use.

The only thing that is hanging over my head is the upcoming holiday. I really dislike having to sit down and try to guess what to buy/make for everyone. I am bad at it. Consequently, I have earned the moniker "Grinch" because of my unease with the season. This year threatens to be harder than usual because we are a blended family - each with different traditions and expectations. Due to the sensitivity of deeply held traditions, it is so easy to cross a line and ignite a powder keg. It will be the season of walking on eggshells.

Well, time to pack up my sorrows and get out into the bright lights of society on a Saturday night. I think I'll go down to the cafe where the boy works just to keep him a little off balance. Then a movie downstairs from the cafe. I think they are playing "The Yes Men Save the World" or something like that.

Ta.

Tired

2009-11-23T21:45:00.002-06:00

Today was one of those foggy, rainy, gray days that make you want to stay in bed all day with the covers pulled up over your head. Wish I could have done that.

Well, the last big move of stuff from the Cities House is now history. We packed up a 24 foot truck and still didn't get it all. My daughter managed to put more stuff in her closet than it could possible hold by bending space-time and borrowing a small black hole. It was like when the clowns keep getting out of the little car. When I finally had it empty, the detritus filled the entire family room. All of that is still in the house awaiting her arrival on Tuesday night.

Oh, the family that wanted to rent the house on the 25th ran into a snag with the sale of their house and lost out to a couple from Austin, TX that signed a year's lease - yea. They move in on Dec. 1 so I have a few extra days to clear the rest of the junk out.

Be that as it may, I am beat. If I didn't have to return the truck this morning I don't think I would have gotten out of bed. Part of the reason why is that all of the junk we brought up is now filling our garages so the cars are outside. We have no room in the house for all of the stuff. Looks like another storage locker is in my future. AND a large garage sale come spring.

I head back down south in a day or two and again after turkey day to continue the cleaning out of the old house. The garbage man is going to send his kid to college on my next payment.

I just keep thinking about those rent checks.

Burying My Nuts

2009-11-17T14:36:00.003-06:00

I am feeling the urge to hunker down and get my nest ready for winter. I am busy putting the winter wheels and tires on the White Whale and setting the wine cellar up as a root cellar and second pantry as well. Busy, busy.

There has been a milestone of sorts concerning the unsold southern abode. Someone wants to rent it for six months. Yea!! BUT, they want to take possession on the 25th OF THIS MONTH. This means I have four days to clean out the rest of my junk (and my kids junk), completely clean the house, and leave a day for contingency action. This is going to be interesting.

I leave for the southland on Thursday. Risa will follow on Friday. My son will drive down early Saturday. I will pick a big truck up at 10 AM Saturday and then the party will commence. Anyone who wants to help is welcome. I will provide food and beverages for the volunteers. I have also made plans to hire some muscle (young muscle) to help with the heavy lifting.

Once the truck has loaded, we will caravan north and do the process in reverse. Where we will put it all is an open questions. For those of you located here in dog's country, we would be happy to see you for the unloading party.

This is obviously a hastily put together plan and there will no doubt be wrinkles along the way. We will just have to remain relaxed and free wheeling throughout.

More later.

Clean

2009-11-13T12:41:00.002-06:00

I made one of my quarterly pilgrimages to the medical mecca of Mayo yesterday to be poked, irradiated, and then the shaman read the bones. The news? I am now officially in "clinical remission," a state that I haven't seen for many years.

What does clinical remission mean? It means that there is no evidence of disease in either the scans or the chemistry found in the blood work. This is good news for someone in a phase II study. The drug is doing a good job in the fight against the lymphoma. And while it is a reason to celebrate, I also have to remember that I have been there before and the disease came back, as that is its nature. So, I am grateful to be here once again, but then I am grateful for every day.

It was a long day. We were up at 5 AM, making the drive down to Rochester in the dark to make my first appointment at 8 AM. Because there was a scan on the schedule, I could not eat until that was done. There was a bit of a problem getting an IV in for the dye injection. My veins are so skittish after all of these years that they all run away at the scent of alcohol.

Scans always make me feel weird. Part of it is the injected dye, which makes me nauseous, and part is the massive amount of radiation that bathes my body for the fifteen seconds I am sliding through the donut. Once that was done, we had a six hour wait until I saw the doctor giving us a chance to break our fast and for Risa to do some shopping while I tried to nap in one of the "barcoloungers" on the 10th floor of the Gonda building.

Waiting to see the doc is always a little nerve wracking. You never know what you will hear. Will it be good or will it be bad. Will you once again hear a death sentence couched in medical language that somehow puts you in the position of a piece of data that will be recorded in a ledger somewhere, not a human that will have to process the news into the framework of a living, feeling, fearing person.

On this day, the news was good and relief settled over me. We were not done however. Next was the wait for the pharmacy to produce another 3 months worth of drugs for me to take away with me. When that finally happened, we got the car out of hock and headed for the Twin Cities and home (well, the southern one any way).

There was a bit of celebrating done after that. Perhaps a little too much as I managed to drop a bottle of pink fingernail polish on the bathroom floor where it shattered (don't ask what I was doing with a bottle of pink fingernail polish). No one should have to try to clean up fingernail polish after celebrating the renewal of life. We ran out of polish remover and decamped to the bedroom where I knocked my full beer off the bedside table which caused me to use my one bath towel as a bar rag before the beer stained the hardwood. This presented a problem for me this morning since I needed to take a shower before we could do laundry.

All in all though, I would rather have to deal with these problems than with some others I can think of.

Hope you all have a good Friday the 13th.

Hiking

2009-11-09T13:13:00.002-06:00

The little dog and I just got back from a 12+K walk along some cross-country ski trails on the eastern edge of the city. This is one of the things I moved back to Duluth for - the amazing availability of parks and trails throughout the city. Go a few blocks in any direction and chances are you will come across a trail dedicated to those who travel on their own two (and four(and a few three's)) legs.

The place we were today is nestled between two rivers that join just before emptying into Lake Superior. The wedge of land containing the trails rises some four hundred feet vertically from its lowest point to its highest. There are hiking trails, groomed ski trails, and snowmobile trails all coexisting as they take the traveler through a series of micro climes, each with its own mix of vegetation.

After finishing our hike, we returned to the car and traveled up the road that marks the western boundary of the park. It is called Seven Bridges Road due to its twisting path that crosses and recrosses Amity Creek on its way up the hill. Eventually, this road links to the eastern terminus of Duluth's Skyline Parkway, a twisty drive that attempts to go from one end of Duluth to the other along the edge of what was once a massive mountain range. The little stretch that we traveled today is also known as Hawk Ridge - so named for both the watchers and the raptors that frequent its crown.

Its a beautiful day here. Not a cloud in the sky and temps in the fifties (bout 14 C for the rest of the world). Perfect for walking.

Having said that, here I am sitting in a dark corner of the house typing on the computer. What I should be doing is trying to move stuff around the garages so that all of the car maintenance stuff is located in the lower garage and all of the camping/skiing stuff is located in the upper. This will involve much moving of things into and out of the station wagon as I drive back and forth from one garage to the next. If I had been thinking (and held the winning lotto ticket) I would have put in an elevator.

Oh well, enough procrastinating. I am off to do it.

Can You Say "Mentally Deficient?"

2009-11-05T17:42:00.002-06:00

I can't help it. To see the best in today's home grown art and crafts go here.

Things

2009-11-05T15:05:00.002-06:00

So, the afternoon of the morning that Sophie departed, we left on a seven hour drive to Sheboygan to check on Risa's Mom's house (they are in India for 10 months) and to attend the Kohler Food and Wine Festival, which was a salve of a kind for the loss of such a dear companion. There was much good food and libation and lots of activities to bend the mind away from sorrow.

No sooner back in Duluth and I had to head to the Cities to have a couple of business discussions and check on the empty house down there. I have decided to try to rent it and hope to find a transferred executive who would like to sign a six to twelve month lease and see what the housing market looks like then. The rental market for up-scale houses is also down but I figure I have little to lose on this.

Then I was back just in time for Halloween, but had to get a piece of my neck whacked out first. My initial visit to a dermatologist up here resulted in a biopsy of a previous biopsy site that turned up a small basal cell carcinoma, so I had to go back and have a quarter-sized disk of skin snipped out. We didn't have a quarter-sized replacement handy so the doc just stitched the thing closed in a straight line, trying to keep it in line with the wrinkles she assured me will come with time. While this was a practical approach, it has left me feeling a bit tight in that spot and makes me turn my whole body instead of just my neck. It makes driving a bit of a challenge.

For Halloween, we did the traditional pumpkin/gourd carving and passed out loot to the goblins at the door before heading to a big person party at what used to be the trading floor of the Duluth Exchange many years ago. I was a little disappointed that the lights were so dim because we had taken great care to draw two vampire punctures dripping blood on the bandage that covered my little neck surgery. No one noticed.

Since then we have been doing the usual. Risa works Monday through Wednesday (and part of Thursday and Friday usually) while I think about all of the chores that I could be doing if I were not sitting in front of the computer all day reading emails, checking on FaceBook, or blogging as I am doing now.

Actually, I am in mid-chore as I do this. I am draining the rain barrels for the winter so we don't have giant ice cubes that explode their containers. Two down and one to go.

Last night we had a bit of an emergency when I went out to our worm farm in the garage to find all of the worms desperately trying to escape their home which had become too dense and damp for their liking. In addition to the mass escape attempt, the whole bin smelled bad. Not good news.

My rescue attempt involved tearing unbleached paper towels into strips that blanketed the soggy mixture, absorbing some of the excess moisture and providing some additional bedding for the little red wigglers. Today, I added more of the torn paper and will follow up with some crushed egg shells as soon as I cook up some eggs. I might have to divide the farm in two and start another bin. Don't know. All vermiculture suggestions welcome.

So long for now. Have to get busy for our "world dinner party tonight." Ciao.

RIP

2009-10-22T11:25:00.001-05:00

Sophie the Wonder Dawg

~1994 - 2009

Passing of Time

2009-10-20T10:28:00.002-05:00

Sorry to be such an infrequent poster these days. It is not because I have been kidnapped by trolls, or am sick in the hospital, or have a broken writing hand. It is more due to the demands placed on me by life and all its little complications.

Things have been going well around here of late. We enjoyed a very nice Indian Summer period that ended suddenly as a cold front came rushing down over the Canadian tundra and hip-checked Summer into next year. That's not to say that we don't have the occasional beautiful fall day. We do, but today is not one of them unless you are a duck. It is cold, rainy, and windy. The sky is a study in gray's with clouds scudding across the surface of Lake Superior.

Inside, it's nice and warm. If fact, if we have had a problem so far this fall, it is the warmth of the house. It's tight - very tight. We get enough solar absorption, even on a cloudy day, to warm the house into the mid-seventies. Which is nice I admit, but at night, you want to snuggle under a light down comforter while you listen to the gale outside, but it's just too warm. I wind up throwing the quilt off of me in the night until I cool down, then it's back on, then repeat.

As problems go, this is a pretty petty one.

A week and a half ago I took the White Whale over to the local road track (Brainard International) for the 25th anniversary of the founding of the Audi Club of North America. It was the first time I have had Ms. Piggy on the track in five years. She performed admirably and we made it through with no scratches or abrasions. The one exciting moment occurred as I was rocketing full bore down the longest straight away in North America and let off the gas to make my shift into 5th gear. Problem was the tachometer went the wrong direction. Instead of falling as you would expect when letting off the gas, it pegged over to the right as the engine screamed from the massive RPM jump.

Long story short, I turned the engine off at 110 mph and began my coast to the nearest exit. Fortunately, there was no one immediately behind me or the outcome might have been much different. There were cars in my run group capable of hitting 180+ at the end of this straight and I didn't want that complicating and already unusual situation.

Once off the track, the problem was quickly diagnosed and resolved, but it was a bit of an unintended adrenaline rush.

The kids are doing well. Kate is enjoying her second year in college and has turned into a massive football fan. Joe is busy with his junior year of high school and two jobs in the food industry. Sophie is still with us but not for long I fear. Her cancer is making breathing difficult (and noisy). We call her Snuffleupagus now. I have had conversations with the vet about end of life issues and we are simply waiting for Sophie to indicate that we should move on it. She appears to be pain free and alert and she still has a massive appetite though you wouldn't know it from the look of her. She looks like she has been locked in a room and starved for months. Poor thing.

One of the things that I like about living here is the ease of getting into the woods. I have been taking advantage of that as often as I can by sneaking away for a few hours to search for the wily grouse that are at a population peak this year. Since Sophie is no longer able to accompany me on these rambles, I have begun to take Saffron which may seem like a surprising choice since toy poodles are not generally seen as bird dogs. That may be, but Saffron seems to love the chance to run wild in the forest which is a pleasure for both of us - birds or no.

We make quite a pair. She in a red sequined T-shirt (pricker protection) topped by a hot pink harness with reflective strips and me - unshaven, long gray hair sticking out wildly beneath a blaze orange camo cap, and the other day, shod in crocs because I forgot to put on my boots. There has been more than one instance where we met other hunters and they had very quizzical expressions on their faces at the encounter.

All that said, it is rare that we do not come back with one or two birds for the larder. We enjoyed a meal just this weekend of partridge roasted with onions and apples and sauteed sage with a baked squash on the side. Ummm, yummy.

On the health front, everything seems stable. I still have the congested chest that requires coughing to clear the junk in my lungs. It is an annoyance for me and nothing more at this time. I see no signs of the lymphoma and will have a better idea of how we stand on that when I go to my next Mayo appointment early next month. I paid a visit to my new dermatologist here and left with part of my cheek frozen and a bit of my neck missing near the site of a previous biopsy. Results still pending as of now, but I am not worried.

Halloween is coming and I am still having difficulty finding my first choice costume. Apparently after 9/11 all UPS drivers are required to leave their uniforms at work since anyone dressed as a UPS worker can penetrate the most stringent security and endanger the country. Who knew?

So, I am coming up short at every attempt at securing a suitable uniform. I have a plan B, but since Marisa and I are teaming our costumes, it will affect her as well. If any of you have a UPS uniform stuffed in the back closet or attic, how bout loaning to to me for Halloween?

Tata for now.

Musings

2009-09-24T11:58:00.005-05:00

Though technically fall, the weather lingers in full-blown summer, making it difficult to think about doing fall things. Pumpkins, grouse, leaf raking are all far in the back of my mind. A few minutes ago, I was thinking how nice it would be to take the dogs to the beach and lay there in the hot sand one more time.

Risa is off getting a massage and I am jealous. It is the old and infirm who need such tender care - like me.

Tomorrow we climb into the car for another long road trip to Madison to see Kate and maybe watch a football game, though neither of us is much of a football fanatic. I don't have tickets yet so we will play the ticket game outside of the stadium to see if we can score a discounted seat or two.

This is what I was doing two weekends ago. Four of us took off on a long weekend to cruise the Apostle Islands off the "junior" peninsula that sticks up from Wisconsin on the south shore of Lake Superior. This is a C&C Landfall 38 with a center cockpit. Very comfortable with four on board. We stocked up on food and booze before embarking which was a good thing because we spent most of our time motoring through calm seas and anchored in placid bays. The weather there was also very un-fall-like for Superior in September.

Whenever preparing for a trip on the waters of Superior, you have to pack for all occasions including weather that you would normally find in the depth of winter. Hence I had heavy oil-impregnated wool sweaters, turtlenecks, fleece pants to go under my goretex ski bibs, etc. What I wore was shorts and a T-shirt. The weather was in the eighties with only the occasional puff of a breeze. Things were very relaxed.

There were beers for lunch, wine and cheese for cocktail hour, and various concoctions after that. Our first night was spent tied to the dock at La Point on Madeline Island where we proceeded to tour all of the various sailors haunts which led to events that will necessitate a brief hiatus before I visit again.

From there, we abandoned land for the serene safety of the waves (well, not really waves, but more like glassy ripples) as we went in search of adventure. We took a tour of the Raspberry Island light house that was led by a garrulous old ranger who was in love with his life and happy to share the lighthouse lore with anyone who had the time to hear it. He and I wound up swapping tales because even though I am not a real light house keeper, I played one in a movie one time which gave me some hind sight into the lives of the keepers.

Our last stop was Presque Isle Bay on the south side of Stockton Island. We were one of about twenty-five sailing vessels at anchor there on that night. It was a beautiful anchorage stretching out along an arching white sand beach that supported about twenty campsites along the shore. We took the dinghy in to shore for a swim in the 70 degree water, washing off the day's accumulation of sweat.

I turned in early that night as the candle burning of the previous two had taken their toll on me. I awoke to a chill, gray dawn and an old fashioned blanket of fog. Because I prefer shore facilities to the limited options on board, I broke the silence with the outboard on the dinghy as I motored over to the dock a good half mile away.

As we ate our breakfast, boats ghosted out of the bay, one by one in the cotton wool fog. When our turn came, we fired up the diesel and joined the flotilla heading back to Bayfield and the harbor. By the time we reached our marina, the fog had lifted, a breeze appeared (too late for us), and we needed another shower.

It was a wonderful time and I was glad to get back in a boat on the lake. I grew up sailing out of Bayfield and Duluth. I can still see our old sloop if I go down to the marina on Park Point. I hope I don't have to wait as long until the next time.

Adieu.

Demon Dawg

2009-09-08T11:30:00.004-05:00

This is one terrified poodle coming down a slide for the first time ever. This event occurred on the way back from Sheboygan, Wisconsin where we were for three days preceding Labor Day. This same poodle (Saffron by name, and no, I did not pick the name) hates traveling in cars, turning into a quivering, vibrating, uber-panter regardless if she is being held, in her travel crate, or bouncing around in the car. Therefore, stops are needed to allow her to stop oscillating at a frequency that will eventually create a small wormhole and she will disappear into the void.

We found a small municipal park in one small town we passed through that had these slides and Saffron followed Risa up the steps and by doing so, doomed herself to this traumatic form of returning to the ground. Though the dawg did not see the humor in it, the experience had us two humans laughing hysterically. Long hours on the road will do that to you.

The drive between Duluth and Sheboygan is seven hours long on a good day, traveling the main roads and not dilly-dallying along. On the way down, Risa demanded that we get there as fast as possible to hook up with one of her girlfriends and in return, she said that I could pick the route on the way home. We subsequently meandered a bit on the way home, traveling down some very picturesque two-lanes, winding our way through some of the most beautiful forests of northern Wisconsin. The only problem was that I turned a seven hour drive into a ten hour drive that had everyone a little cranky towards the end. Saffron proceeded to sleep for two days.

The reason for the Sheboygan trip was to say goodbye to Risa's mom and step-dad as they prepare to travel to India for the next ten months. They have a house under construction up in the Himalayan foothills not too far from where the Dali Lama hangs out when not traveling.

While there (in Sheboyg) we dined out a lot, hung out in smoky bowling alleys where an exotic beer might be Leiney's Red, sailed on a three-masted schooner, went to Elkhart Lake and the Road America race track where we saw gazillions of Porches in full race condition, and sat in a deep (I mean WAY deep) couch in a funky wine bar drinking Mangotini's. All in all, a good time.

Here you can see a picture of the schooner we were on as it heads out to "sea" under full sails. It is a relatively new boat, built in 2000 that calls Milwaukee its home port. She sails the great lakes in the clement seasons and winters down in the Carribean. The crew is mostly students, retirees, and water-logged hippies who conduct learning experiences for land lubbers and do research on the health of the Great Lakes.

Now we are back in Duluth and taking care of business (you know, laundry, bills, grocery shopping, etc.). In two days, I leave again to do more sailing. This time it will be on a 40 footer out of Bayfield, WI. We will be tooling around the Apostle Islands for a little bit of R&R before winter sets in with all of its fury. The leaves are definitely turning.

On the health front, I still have the nagging cough which is due to the chemo drug I am taking (I am pretty sure), but given the choice of horking up a lung oyster or two or seeing the lymphoma come back, it is an easy choice.

That's all for now boys and girls. Take care.

School, The Fair, and School Again

2009-09-01T12:42:00.002-05:00

Too much water under the bridge to cover all of it. The main things are the trip to Madison to get the girl back to school. This was the second time for us and the planning and packing went much better this go around. We borrowed a mini van from one of my brothers, packed it to the gills and headed out early. We reached Madison about noon and were unloaded and in the apartment in less than an hour. We said our good-byes and did the hug thing and I was back on the road and in the Twin Cities by 6:30 that night. Took a bit to get the road vibrations damped down, but a good sleep later I was feeling fine.

I stayed over night in my "other house," the one that has been on the market for over a year and a half. This is getting way too old. I don't get down there enough to keep all of the shrubs trimmed or the garden weeded. I did some of that before packing the now empty van up with the plants that were still in the house. Two of them were tall enough that they had to be bent to fit in the van. One I had to tie up after it tipped over and fell out of the pot. When I finally made it to Duluth, the big ones went out to the deck which was the wrong thing to do apparently. The big fern that has been with me for thirty years or so got too much sun and became burnt. The Norfolk pine likewise burned and the palm got too cold and is now dropping its discolored leaves. I brought them all inside as soon as I saw the damage, but I don't know if they will make it.

We went back down to the Cities last week to go to the state fair and hear Taj Mahal and Bonnie Raitt. On either side of that we weeded furiously to get the front garden spruced up. Having done that, I took the house off the market. Time to try something different.

A word about the Minnesota State Fair - actually three words - "on a stick." Ninety-five percent of the food sold at the fair comes on a stick and most of that is deep fried. Needless to say, the people watching is superb. Now, I am not a big fan of stick food, but it is interesting to see the pushing of the boundaries that occurs as vendors try to come up with the next "great" thing on a stick. We have the original corn-dog or pronto-pup on a stick that started the whole thing. I suppose cotton candy could also be included as one of the originals. But now there are pork chops on a stick (OAS), bacon OAS, deep-fried ice cream OAS, and the newest and highest calory food OAS - the deep-fried snickers bar OAS.

All of this plus the burgers, brats, foot long hot dogs, fries, deep-fried cheese curds, beers, popsicles (OAS), pizza, gyros, falafels, and on and on and on. There is the bottomless cup of milk in the dairy building right next to the cooler where Princess Kay of the Milky Way is sitting while a butter sculptor is carving her likeness in a huge block of (you guessed it) butter.

We saw the Big Pig (all 1300+ pounds of him), petted the little pigs (newborns), saw the horses in the horse barn from the little miniature ones about three feet high to the great big ones - Clydesdale's and Percheron's. We saw the big fish pond full of sturgeons, paddle-fish, trout, bass, crappies, pike, and others I didn't know. We watched people being shot 160 feet into the air in a giant slingshot where they must disinfect the seat between shots. We saw people hauling giant stuffed animals that were as big as themselves to god knows where. What do you do with something like that?

We went on some rides at the insistence of the female contingent of our party (Risa, her sister Sylvia, and HER sister Nicole) and they all picked rides that threw you around and around in ever increasing death spirals accompanied with involuntary screams that erupted from the deep down animal sides of our psyches. My neck still hurts from trying to keep my head from hurtling off and beaning some innocent bystander eating something OAS.

After that nonsense, we sat down for some more food and beer before Risa and I headed off for the concert. It was a beautiful night to be sitting in the grandstand listening to wonderful music. When it was all over, we strolled out of the grandstand while the fireworks exploded overhead. One last stop for some garlic fries and more beer before leaving the fairgrounds with what remained of the 114,000 good folk who shared our day at the fair. There was then the shuttle bus ride back to our car about midnight and home to bed.

Now it is back to work (for Risa), back to school (for Joe), and back to trying to figure out what to do with the unsold house in the Cities (for me). For now, I think I will try and rent it. I put an add up on CraigsList and we'll see if that gets any action.

So, that's about it for now. The days are getting shorter and the weather is getting cooler. Some of the trees have started to turn. This means it is time to start burying our nuts for the winter.

Ta ta.

PETA

2009-08-16T14:41:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was pet appreciation day at Casa du Nord.

Saffron, the poodle, threw up sometime in the middle of the night. The Wonder Dawg is getting increasingly incontinent and leaves little wet spots where she lies down. Cleaning up from those two took a fair amount of time between the immediate response team and the follow-up deep cleaning team. I thanked my stars that I bought a portable carpet and upholstery machine from the company where I worked for many years. It has paid for itself many times over cleaning up after vomiting kids, drunken wine spillers, and numerous pets during their infirmities.

Just when we thought we were done, we went out on the deck to examine the petunias and found that the cat had experience a moment of extreme diarrhea in one of the deck chair pads. It was off to grab the extractor one more time. You gotta love them or you would do them in.

I am still recovering from the Extreme Makeover experience. I can actually see my ankle bones now and the knee swelling has just about gone away. I am sleeping late whenever I can to make up for lost hours back then.

In other news, we are busily helping our young college student prepare for another year away. She is moving into an apartment this year and is raiding the kitchen for enough to start up her own cooking experience. Pots, pans, placemats, dishes, utensils, glasses, mugs, etc. This is mostly a good thing because between Marisa and I we have two and a half houses worth of stuff. What we can donate to Kate will be spared from the inevitable mondo garage sale that will come later.

On Tuesday, we will borrow my brother's van, pack the Duluth stuff up and head for the Twin Cities and our "other" house where a whole nother pile awaits us. If we can cram it into or on top of, the van, we will head to Madison early on Wednesday for another moving adventure. Wish us luck.

Other than that, we are enjoying the trailing end of summer. We sit on the deck when it's not raining. We buy and eat sweet corn on the cob. We water the flowers and admire our good luck at having them to look at. We spend time with those close to us who will soon travel on their own paths.

Then there is the State Fair which marks the official end of summer and beginning of fall for those of us who live in Minnesnowta. We hope to get down there for some not-to-be-missed people watching. The cuisine is an acquired taste in some cases, but everyone can find something that hits their taste buds in a good way. We might take in a show at the grandstand if we can get tickets. Bonnie Raitt and Taj Mahal would be our first choice.

We will let you know how it goes.

OK, for the obligatory medical update, my trip to the Mayo last week produced no surprises. My CT scan showed continuous improvement on the lymphoma level. Tumorous nodes continue to shrink where they can be seen at all. This is great news for me. There is still evidence of "artifacts" in my lungs, but the radiologist said they appeared to be old and inactive (whatever that means). I still cough stuff up, but there are no fevers associated with whatever this is. My biggest concern is that this could interrupt the Mayo study. Again, I will keep you abreast of things as we proceed.

OK, there you go. Hope your summer is going well.

The Reveal - Missed

2009-08-10T22:32:00.004-05:00

So today was the big theatrical moment - Move That Bus.

I missed it.

Oh, I was there. I arrived about 10 AM to find a bunch of "not much" other than a couple of thousand spectators arriving and milling around. The work crew was mostly hanging back with a relaxed attitude.

The cleaning folks were working frantically, trying to clean around the camera crews filming the hanging of pictures and posing of toys, etc. I mostly was trying to find a place to sit down. As of today, not only my knees were swelling, but my ankles and feet too. What an embarrassment. I really like the way my legs look and now I'm half elephant.

Anyway, I was hanging out near the garage, sitting on a cooler of water bottles when the bus pulls up. Yes, THE bus. Problem is, the cleaning head honcho told me that there was no way the house would be ready at 2 PM - the official time for the MTB maneuver. In fact, she said that we would be lucky to make it by 3 PM.

I might have stayed if it were not for the camera Nazis. These are the guys (always guys) that start yelling at the crowd to do this, or move there, or get lost. Stuff like that.

So there I sat, in the sun, feeling hot and fat legged when some bastard from Texas or southern California started yelling (not at me, but at people like me) to move somewhere, and I said to myself, "Self, why are you going to put up with this?" And Self had no good answer. So, I got up. Walked to the construction trailer. Took off my radio and left.

After all, the challenge was "could we build it" and we did. Nuff said. Done. I didn't need any more Hollywood stuff (ignore what I said the other day). Besides, I needed to be in Rochester (or at least the Twin Cities) by this evening for my Mayo appointment tomorrow.

So I got in the car and had a leisurely, and beautiful drive down through northern Wisconsin to the Twin Cities and my "Other Home" where I mowed the lawn and dug out the mailbox from its burden of junk mail. I even had a couple of pomegranate martinis at a local watering hole where I learned that the "bus" didn't move until 6 PM.

Good thing I didn't wait.

Looming Deadline

2009-08-09T12:07:00.004-05:00

It's Day 7 and in just under 2 hours, we are supposed to wrap up construction and landscaping and turn the keys over to the producers of Extreme Makeover Home Edition. Will we make it? Too close to call at this point.

The head electrician is missing 4 critical light fixtures, the landscaper is dealing with a literal sea of mud, the interior of the house is like a hornet's nest after the stick went through it. Craziness.

The first thing I did upon arriving is to get the Prius stuck in the mud trying to park. Luckily, one of the crew was leaving in his four-wheel drive pickup truck and he had a tow rope. He towed me out and to high ground. I thought maybe things had dried out a bit since yesterday. Silly me. It's worse. Volunteers are spreading bales of straw all over in an attempt to mitigate the foot deep mud.

The view above is of my work station in the Builders Commonwealth construction trailer. I'll post more photos when I can legally do so. It appears that this shoot will be the two-hour season premier for the show which is pretty cool.

Tomorrow is the "Move that bus" segment and I will have to leave directly from the site and hit the road to Rochester and the Mayo clinic. I put my original appointment off so I could work on this show. I will start the day off with an insanely early CT scan and then kill several hours while waiting for my next appointment. Hopefully, I will finish up early enough to make it all the way back to Duluth. Then I plan to collapse for several days.

This past 10 days has been so intense that I have not been able to even get to the mail. It sits in a growing pile on my desk. I gave my Blues Fest pass over to other family members to use and have not heard a note played. This afternoon there is a family reception for a couple of newlyweds that I will most likely miss as well. I apologize for all of my transgressions. What can I say? I am a Hollywood slut. Get me on that camera!!!!

All of this stuff has taken a bit of a toll on me as well. I have about a half liter of fluid in each knee for reasons that are not clear to me. I walk like I have a stick up my butt and I can't bend either knee more than about 30 degrees. My cough is still present which is something that makes me nervous. I don't want to have to stop taking this experimental chemo drug. We'll see what the scan shows on Tuesday.

Well, I had better get back to "work" and see if I can help them make the deadline. Tune in to see if we do it.

Just Like Woodstock

2009-08-08T11:44:00.002-05:00

Day 6 on the site and it is a quagmire. This picture is two days old and does not show the effect of last nights rain that turned the dusty "roads" in the fields into greasy mud strips that are swallowing vehicles. The excavating teams are doing their best to dump gravel and other stuff down to make it easier for pedestrians and construction equipment to move around.

As far as I can tell, we are mostly on schedule which is amazing given the timing constraints and the hundreds of laborers that are working on top of each other around the clock. The pace and the pressure are taking a toll however. Those who have been here night and day are starting to drop. It is a constant fight for those people who have to make critical decisions.

Even for me, who is not one of the key decision makers and who goes home most every night (putting in only 12-14 hour days) feels the cumulative effect. My knees are stiff and swollen and my left ear (the one with the radio ear bud) is sore and achy. I received my first injury this morning due to fatigue and inattention. I leaned over the planning desk in the construction trailer and smacked my head into a strip of fly paper that I had hung up yesterday. The subsequent jerk left a hank of gray hair hanging up with the corpses of yesterday's flies.

We have just 26 hours to finish everything up and turn the keys over to the EM producers. It's going to be a nail biter right down to the end.

Oh yeah, we are supposed to receive another 12 hours of rain and thunderstorms starting this afternoon.

Extreme Tension

2009-08-05T20:26:00.002-05:00

It's almost 8:30 at night here on the set for Extreme Makeover Home Edition. The powerful stadium lights on towers have been set up for another night of fun and games and the natives are restless.

We have a crew of thirty to forty carpenters who have been standing around for a few hours now waiting for something to do. They have come from as far away as the Twin Cities - 150 miles and a couple or three hours of driving to volunteer their time for the cause. Some work for competing companies. There are union and non-union trades working (or at least standing) alongside one another. It's an impressive sight.

We are all waiting to fly the first wall section into place, which will begin an all-night working party that will see all of the walls go up and the roof on before the sun rises again (fingers crossed). Yours truly will be here for the duration.

We are running a little behind schedule because all work stops when Hollywood takes the stage and we couldn't build that into our plans because it is random both in frequency and length of stoppage. We just have to suffer and try to make up time where we can.

It looks to be a beautiful night with a few random clouds and a full moon which should be rising any minute now. The only potential drawback is that it will be chilly, but for those doing manual labor that's not a bad thing. We'll see how it goes.

I have been a denizen of this little tent city that has gone up in a large field surrounding the build site for three days now. So far it has been 12 hour days for me and I am one of the light ones. Some are putting in much longer stints. The danger there of course is that folks can get sloppy after so much sleep deprivation.

News alert: The porta-johns in the spectator area are full and out of toilet paper.

Well, we all have to suffer for our art (or for those hoping to view Ty's rippled abs).

I'll post the view date as soon as I know it.

Ah, I can see the full orange globe of the full moon rising over the trees across the fields. Time for me to go back to work.

That's all for now. TA TA

Extreme Makeover - Home Edition

2009-08-01T18:22:00.003-05:00

They are here and I am working on the project.

The same crew that did the work on my house (and only missed the original target date by a year) were selected as the builder by the EM producers and I HAD to sign on because these guys can't hit a timeline if their lives depended on it.

I also had to sign on because my girlfriend wants to dry hump Ty Pennington and I want to be there when the security guys haul her away.

That's my justification for not posting for so long. I have been spending a bunch of time sitting down with the four-day schedule and pondering how in the blue jeesus we are going to carry this thing off.

There has been a lot of advance work but the "door knock" is this coming Monday morning and then all hell breaks loose. I don't plan on sleeping from Thursday morning through late Friday.

There is no time for slippage in this schedule. None.

Then there is the weather. We are in a weather pattern that has been crazy. All ready today, we have had five or six rainy periods interspersed with wind and sun. Short of lightning, we will have to work through whatever mother nature throws our way. It's going to be nuts.

Sophie the Wonder Dawg is doing OK as far as I can tell. She hasn't lost a bit of her appetite. In fact we have a difficult time keeping her from eating the food of the other two furry occupants around here. I do need to take her in for a weight check though.

I think that I'm doing OK too. I know that I am not loosing weight. I'll be going down to the Mayo in two weeks when we'll do a CT scan to see what's cookin inside. Hopefully nothing.

That's it for now.

Oh, except that it is Blues Fest time around here and that means out of town family members are shacked up with us. We have three cousins in from steamy Portland, OR eating us out of house and home at the moment. More arriving soon.

When it gets crazy, it really gets crazy.

It Hits a Third Time

2009-07-20T19:08:00.003-05:00

I can understand my own cancer. I led a life of debauchery, sex, drugs, and rock & roll. C's cancer is a little harder to understand because she was a total straight arrow. Perhaps it was her close association with me. But to see it happen to the Wonder Dawg is totally fucked.

Of course, I don't believe any of that except the "fucked" part and that is associated with all three of us and anyone else struck down by a relentless disease.

My faithful companion of the last thirteen or so years was diagnosed last week with aggressive malignant melanoma. She had a growth on the top of her mouth that I noticed about a year ago but decided to ignore as long as she was eating well and not giving evidence of impairment (ok, just add that to the long list of why I'm going to hell). But a couple of weeks ago, she ate something crunchy while out at a cabin and her mouth started to bleed, so it was time for a vet visit.

At that time, we saw that in addition to the "puffball" like growth hanging down from the roof of her mouth, there was a new mass behind it that looked different. Surgery was scheduled for the next day. The lab result came a week later - malignant melanoma. Aggressive malignant melanoma.

Today, I took her back to the vet for a followup visit. He was pleasantly surprised at the appearance of her surgery site and very pleased that her lymph nodes were unremarkable. This means that we have some time to spend.

When things start to progress, I will not pursue an aggressive treatment plan. My old friend is in her mid-eighties in people years and I see nothing to be gained by making her existing time unpleasant. Quite the opposite. I want her to be loved and comfortable. When she starts experiencing uncontrolled pain, I will have her put to sleep. It is the same that I would want for me only we humans are not offered this final courtesy of love.

If you know the Wonder Dawg, you are lucky. I have been graced with her companionship during some of my most trying days and she always brought me comfort (not counting the days where she left some unidentified sample of her uncompleted digestive process - but for those, we forgive her). I have been blessed.

I will keep you informed as things go along, but if you are in the area and you want to stop in and scratch a couple of grey flecked ears, please do so.

Ta ta.

Growing Grass

2009-07-08T14:32:00.003-05:00

To give you an example of how exciting things have been around here, my favorite occupation has been watching grass grow. I know - Mr. Excitement.

But in all honesty, the grass is growing where no grass was before as shown in the above photo. This was a sea of mud a few short weeks ago. The gardens, walls, walkways, and sod are all new. One of my other occupations has been watering the new grass because we have had zero rain in the past few weeks.

So - there you have it. All the news that is fit to print.

Oh, my layabout son finally scored a job - woohoo. He is a "greeter/seater/buser" at a local restaurant down in the Canal Park area. This is a major event since we have been all over his backside to quit laying around and earn some honest money. The girl has been working two jobs since arriving back home for the summer, so she is often gone.

I received the OK to resume my experimental cancer drug when I visited the Mayo Clinic last week. We cut the dosage in half and will monitor my situation via a CT scan on my next visit. We still don't know if the lung issues that put me in the hospital were pneumonia or a side effect of the cancer drug, hence the cautious approach on reinstating me in the program.

What else is new? Oh, the White Whale finally has a new bumper and assorted bits on its nose. It looks less like a rolling wreck now. Some of the replacement parts are not perfect matches in color so it will still need a paint job, but it doesn't look like all of its teeth were knocked out any more.

I think that's it. We are enjoying the summer here and look forward to seeing friends and family as they come to town. Stop by if you are in our neck of the woods.

Post Marathon

2009-06-22T19:19:00.003-05:00

Grandma's Marathon has come and gone and with it, the sunny weather that finally graced our shores.

We had weekend guests who were up here for the marathon. The young lady of the family planned on running the 26 mile course, hoping to qualify for the Boston marathon. These folks were neighbors of ours when we lived two places ago. They lived kitty corner from us across the backyard and my son grew up best friends with their youngest son. You couldn't ask for nicer folks to share a yard, or a life with. It was traditional that myself and the father take our kids around the neighborhood every Halloween - a tradition that lived on even after we moved.

Often times on those walks we would talk over the issues of the day and at one time or another, the discussion would turn to my health and how things were going. We talked about how a serious illness can alter one's outlook on life and how we might approach things differently. My companion had his own scare a while before. While camping on the north shore of Lake Superior with the family, he became ill with what he initially thought was the flu, but which quickly became something more serious.

He wound up in the hospital in Duluth where the family learned that it looked very much like a brain tumor. He was airlifted to the Twin Cities where he underwent a long and delicate operation. The prognosis was guarded - a possible partial recovery. Most likely he would not walk again and would eat through a tube for the rest of his life. He proved them wrong by slowly, but determinedly regaining all of his previous capabilities. It was a trying time for the family and all of their friends - ourselves included.

When my wife was diagnosed with cancer, making it two for two amongst the adults in our family, our old neighbors were always there for us. Their support was something very important as we made our way through that difficult period.

It was with profound sadness that I learned that K, a woman of incomparable selflessness, was diagnosed with acute leukemia a couple of years later. After a long and hard battle, she passed three years and one month from when I lost my wife. That was about a month ago.

This weekend, the father and two of the three kids were our guests. It was wonderful to see them and to be able to spend some time talking, eating, and simply taking some down time. They are doing alright. As alright as you can during a time like this.

We were moving to the rhythm of the marathon's schedule. The young runner was up before the sun to eat breakfast and catch a bus to the starting line. My daughter was also up at the crack - an event so unusual that I feel the need to mark it historically - so that she could make it to one of the water stations along the route where she was going to volunteer for a five hour shift. The rest of us were moving a bit more leisurely that morning.

When we had risen, showered, and dressed in our finest marathon observation costumes, we walked the five blocks down the hill to the course where we could see the second half of the half marathon runners going by interspersed with the occasional wheelchair athlete. At that point, we were at about mile 22 or 23 and we slowly started making our way downtown toward the finish line.

Even at that time, about 9 AM, the sun was pouring down some serious heat that made even leisurely walking a sweating offense.

The leaders of the full marathon had yet to make an appearance and we were able to make it almost to the downtown district before the lead runner went striding by at a pace that I couldn't maintain for more than about twenty feet. He was flying. We kept looking for number two, but didn't see him for several minutes. The eventual winner won by almost three minutes over number two. It was something.

We made it to the finish line and were able to see many of the elite runners come in, including the three-time woman's winner. One of the two women behind her swerved to the side as she neared the finish line, almost as if she were going to shake hands with supporters behind the fence when she completely collapsed. She had to be evacuated by wheelchair and taken to the medical tent. How heartbreaking to get so close and not be able to finish.

It was shortly after that that we got a phone call from our young runner saying that she had to quit the race at mile thirteen. Reception was bad and the crowd noise high, so we didn't learn any details of what led to this, but we immediately left the finish line and began our hike back to mile 22 (or 23) where we would hook up with her.

By the time we got there, we were hot and tired and Risa had developed blister farms on both feet. We met my son there who gave us a ride up the hill to the house, where we were surprised to find our young runner sitting in the yard waiting for someone to come home.

It took a few minutes to ascertain that the reason she had to drop out of the race had nothing to do with her physical condition which seemed excellent, but rather it was case of emotional overload. This was the first time she had run when her mother wasn't there to cheer her on. Over the course of the first half of the run, she fell into an emotional hole that she couldn't climb out of and it took such a toll that she had to stop. It was very sad and obviously a huge disappointment for the young woman. Her father and brother arrived minutes later and we withdrew to allow them to be together.

It turned into one of those days where everyone found the need for a little siesta during the heat of the afternoon. That evening, the young lady abandoned us for the charms of a male friend whom she had not seen in years while we went out for a fine, late dinner.

Early the next morning we prepared a huge breakfast for us all and then bid adieu to our out of town friends.

It was a wonderful weekend where we got to share our house, our town, our favorite restaurants, with friends whom we had not seen in a while and whom we wanted to share our support in their time of need. We all got our souls fed.

It's the Legs

2009-06-17T14:05:00.002-05:00

Not a whole lot to report here. I experienced a couple of nights of weird and extremely powerful leg pains that seemed to strike between midnight and six in the morning. It wasn't like a muscle pain but more in the bones. Kept me from sleeping and was so strong, it was everything I could do not to scream out. Massive doses of ibuprofen seemed to help, but when I saw my doc on Monday, he said that taking that wasn't a good idea along with the prednisone I was on as part of my hospital discharge prescriptions.

Instead, we decided to bump the prednisone up for three days and see if that took care of the pain. I am happy to report that is seems to have done the trick. I have one more night of the higher prednisone dosage and then I go back down to the diminishing doses I was previously on. We will see if the pain returns.

In other news, we are still waiting for summer temps around here. The flowers are in their window boxes and planters, but it's too cold to sit out on the deck and enjoy them. I think they are hibernating anyway.

We planted two hop plants down in the ground in hopes that they will reach the second story deck in a couple of years and populate the trellis with hops for making beer. We will see about that.

This weekend is the big marathon weekend in these parts. Much craziness will ensue. We have a family coming up from the Cities to stay with us while the daughter runs the 26 mile distance. It will be nice to have the company. The day before, another family from the same neighborhood will stop in for a shorter visit. These are old neighbors of ours from years ago.

People keep asking about the house and how it's going. The house is for all regular purposes done. We have a second coat of paint that has to go on and a screen door to be hung, but everything else is taken care of (I think).

Right now, we are working on landscaping the most visible corner of the house. The back and the east side will have to wait until the NO house sells. Still not much movement there. I keep my fingers crossed though.

So, that's about it. Nice to have a lack of emergencies to talk about.

Free and Healing

2009-06-12T17:24:00.003-05:00

Two weeks ago at about this time, I was starting my decent into severe rigor and hallucinatory fever dreams. By midnight, I was on my way to the hospital. For the next three days, I would continue to deteriorate despite the care and attention of the hospital staff. On day four, new doctors were added to the team and one, an infectious desease specialist took charge, threw out all of my old meds, canceled my Mayo chemo drug, and prescribed a new regimen of antibiotics and heavy steroid applications. I started to respond.

Tonight, I sit on my deck at home surrounded by family and enjoying a gin and tonic. What a trip it has been. I am mending quite well I believe. Of course I haven't had a blood test or been examined by a physician since leaving the hospital last Monday, but I feel internally that I am recovering. I am still prone to fatigue and I am moving slowly, but I am moving. I spend my time on the ever present "house" projects that abound. I am also actively working in my glass studio downstairs on a commission that I expect to finish later next week. This is good.

Tonight, we are off to dinner and a play. Tomorrow maybe a little live music. Last night, we took my daughter down to a local pub for the weekly celtic jam so she could get out and have something to do. I bought a pitcher of beer and no one seemed too concerned that she wound up with a glass or two.

The weather here has finally gotten to the point where we can sit out on the deck without jackets and long pants. Today, we bought two large planter pots and two honey suckle plants for them with the hope that the honeysuckle will make its way up to the trellis and give us and the humming birds something to look at. Tomorrow, we will plant the hops down below in the ground, but it will take years before they reach us up here. Until then, the honeysuckle will have to do.

Well, that enough for now. I wanted to let you know that I am free and doing well. Thanks for all of your good wishes. I know they helped me during my dark hours. Ta ta.

Day Ten

2009-06-08T08:48:00.002-05:00

It is quarter to nine in the morning and I have endured my morning lab stab (5:30 AM), vitals (5:40 AM), questions about my various excretions (5:45 AM), my initial morning drugs (1 IV, 2 pills, 6:00 AM), morning shift change conference (6:15 AM), short snooze, breakfast tray arrival (6:45 AM), eat while listening to NPR, first doc conference (7:30 AM), arrival of home made coffee and morning papers (thanks M, 7:45 AM), read and visit over coffee, second doc conference (8:30 AM), second round of morning meds (8:45 AM), nebulizer treatment (8:55 AM), and now quiet as I sit propped up in bed with laptop in it's named spot, writing and looking out the window directly in front of me at a quintessential Duluth day where all is gray and whitecaps.

I get to go home today.

I imagine that my morning will go something like this: shower and fresh gown (no real clothes here), finish reading papers, maybe a walk to the cafeteria for more coffee while waiting for discharge orders to be written. These orders will be volumnuous, full of prescriptions, schedules and followup appointments. My primary physician will have to return to the hospital to sign off on these - probably over the noon time.

In the meantime, I will sit, and think, and look out the window at one of the reasons why I wanted to move back here in the first place, and write.

First, the lake.

If you have never seen it, it is difficult to understand the emensity of it all. It is a vast and ancient thing that rules the weather for this part of the land. Its moods and natures shape the lives of those who live upon her shores. I grew up breathing the mist lifted from the tops of the white spume that crashed upon the broken shoulders of the mountain range that defines the northern shore of this inland sea, a range that at one time was mighty as the Himilayias are now, but that have been worn down by time and epochs and glaciers and rain and the ceaseless pounding of the waves.

I have sailed its expanses, swum along its edges, known its absolute indifference to my existence, and have learned the meaning of terror while caught in its fury. This inland sea became a part of me that has called to me whenever I have been away from it.

Now, I sit seven floors up in a hospital room looking out of a picture window at an expanse of gray, flecked with whitecaps that mark seven to eight foot waves rolling in from the northeast. If I could see further to my right, I would see them flinging themselves upon the breakwalls and riff-raff that line the shore of Duluth's waterfront. Only the most hearty and foolish will be walking the shoreline boardwalk today and they had better be well dressed for it.

I cannot see the Wisconsin shore which I know is directly in front of me across the narrow expanse of water. The sky, a slightly lighter shade of gray meets the water in a zone that is ambiguous - impossible to tell where the elements finally separate. I am anxious to set my feet outside of this neutral cocoon that has sheltered me these last ten days. I want to feel the wind driven rain on my face. I want to hear the boom of the waves as they repeatedly attempt to turn 100 thousand ton chunks of ancient basault into tiny grains of sand. I want to smell the spume.

Of course, the battle that has gone on here, high above the roiling waters, has not been without its adventures and the outcome is not yet known for sure. One week ago, I was closer to death than I have been in many years. I did not tell anyone of my suspicions. After all, it was only some fevers and coughing, but I knew. I knew that if we did not find a new mix of hokum-pokum, my lungs would continue to fill and I would drown in a lake of my own. One without any of the poetry of the giant one outside my window.

Foretunately, I was being cared for by some very wise and experienced shamans who did find that special combination of things that reversed the course of my illness and allowed me to sit here today writing this to you. One of the things that was done however leaves a large question mark smack dab in front of me. We stopped the experimental chemo drug I was doing as part of the Mayo trial. The chemo drug that reversed the relentless march of my Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. The drug that has allowed me to live again. What will this mean? The answer to that is unknown to me at this point.

Once I am home, comfortably ensconced in an overstuffed chair or pet-hairy sofa, with all of my prescription orders in front of me, I will call the Mayo and ask "what's next." I imagine that I will travel down there for a conference with all of my reports and analysese from the last ten days (or maybe not if the outcome is a simple one). What ever happens, I have dodged a nearby bullet and am profoundly greatful. Nothing makes life seem so sweet as to feel the sticky hand of death on the back of your neck.

So, here I sit looking out on weather that I am sure is causing great grumbling and knashing of teeth because it is cold, windy, rainy and not the kind of soft spring day we all wish for, but for me, it is a great day and I am chomping at the bit to get out into it.

Best to you all.

Day Nine

2009-06-07T15:56:00.002-05:00

I received an upgrade in room last night. Someone came in to the hospital that needed nearly constant observation and as I have continued to improve, they moved me down to the end of the hall next to the solarium where I now enjoy a nice view of Lake Superior. Suits me.

I am getting better every day. One week ago, I was a sick little puppy. Today, I still have a little congestion in my lungs and need to cough up some junk once in a while, but no where like before. I feel almost back. It will take a bit longer to recover fully. My hemoglobin is still below standard so I will be low energy and tire easily. I will be short of breath walking uphill - stuff like that, but I should be able to go home tomorrow and finish my recovery at home.

I have had lots of company over my stay here which has made a huge difference in how all of this has gone. I can't imagine what this last week would have been like without the support of my friends and family who have stopped in and helped me spend the time between the taking of vital signs, the lab stabs, the chest x-rays, the lucid periods between the dreams and hallucinations.

Then there is Marisa who has not only been with me in the hospital for hours at a time, but also holding down the fort at home making sure the animals get fed and that there is food either on the table or in the fridge for the kids as they come and go. I don't know what I would have done without her help. Thank you, M.

I am anxious to get out of here for so many reasons. I have work to do and obligations to meet. I feel forced into this frozen state of non-activity and it is very frustrating. I hope to finish setting up the glass studio in the basement so I can get going on the job I have in front of me. Then there is the always present need to keep unpacking (and the accompanying need to find storage locations for the stuff still in the boxes). Slow, slow, slow.

Well, enough for now. I'll let you know if I get sprung tomorrow.

Day Seven

2009-06-05T09:17:00.002-05:00

Get me out of here.

It's hard to separate the days from the events that occur in them. Same bed. Same wall to stare at. Same gowns with their democratic indignity. Same shit food.

On the other hand, the staff is for the most part wonderful. My nurse last night (3-12) would be an exception. It wasn't that he was uncaring, but that he was an airhead. He would set off to get me a med and never return. He came in to review my evening pill fest and started naming off all off these drugs that I didn't recognize saying that we would be starting them tonight then. I asked him if he was looking at the right file on the computer. Opps, wrong guy.

I had to help him with several IV issues as well. It was very strange. Early in the evening, a disruptive patient came in with a security detail and the whole staff was in a tizzy. At the time, I was about seven hours into a twelve hour bag of immunoglobulins which required someone to check my vitals (BP, Temp, Pulse, etc.) every thirty minutes. It didn't look like it was going to work so well. Too many readings were getting skipped, so I started charting them myself on the half hour. Easy to do with these little digital BP units. They are an all-in-one unit and display the data for you.

So, for the next 5 hours, I dutifully took my own vitals and wrote them down in the chart paper left for that purpose. I want a discount on my bill for that.

I am feeling better and the pertenant markers the shamens are watching indicate that I am recovering from my peak of lunacy. They are not ready to let me go just quite yet though. Looks like I am here until Monday at least. And the worst thing about getting better is that I am getting super bored. When I had the good fevers and the morphine pump, life here was good, but now, all I want is to get away and run (well, run isn't very appropriate since I get winded climbing back in bed after taking a leak).

I think I'll start watching prison break movies over the weekend.

Freedom Denied

2009-06-02T14:32:00.002-05:00

I thought that freedom might be mine after having a fever free night, alas, Dr. Lung #2 (not to be confused the the charles addams Dr. Lung #1) came in to say that yesterday's bronchoscopy didn't show any sign of lung cancer, migrating lymphoma, hefalumps, or any other stuff like that. What they did find was good old common asshole bugs like staph and strep. The problem is that they are proving resistant to the course of action we are taking against them. Sounds like we will give it one more day and then try other things - like shoving hospital food down my windpipe.

I bet they would be gone with the first application of fruit compote delight. This stuff is totally toxic. Even the staff admits it as most of them do bag lunches. I actually ate one "thing" after two days with no solid food. That was the last thing though. Last night, my GF smuggled in some Thai spring rolls with wonderful peanut sauce.

I always amazes me that organizations in business to heal continue to poison their clientele daily. This morning, I received my toxic tray while I was waiting for the aforementioned GF who was bringing fresh brewed coffee. I looked at the suspiciously yellow scrambled eggs, the toast from 2000 BC, the orange juice that was squeegeed off the processing floor, and the inevitable mug of coffee. The only thing I could stomach was the OJ and a fork full of adequately chilled eggs. Not seeing GF yet, I uncorked the coffee and took a slug.

Now for a group that couldn't deliver hot food if the world depended on had somehow, just this once this morning, delivered a substance that had been scraped directly from the surface of the sun. My mouth parts were immediately paralyzed, allowing the remainder of the hot acid to work it's way slowly down my throat. I sat in horror as steam and noxious vapors issued forth in front of my eyes, or as much of that as could be seen due to the blinding jets of tears that shot from my eyes a moment before.

Time froze while I pondered my options and took action. My hand shot out, grasped the pitcher of shaved ice and water, and hurled it at my face and gaping mouth. Dear Reader, this is a place where it should be recorded that my plan of action worked as inspired, but I must confess that I did not consider all of the possible outcomes of my actions. Instead of quenching the fire burning within me, the contents of the pitcher made a slightly lower landing which introduced a whole separate set of options for me to consider.

All of this before breakfast. Things had to get better.

The news of the day consisted of the above lung-look, getting unhooked from my IV pump (lost the morphine drip however), allowing me to walk these hallowed halls without trailing a steel shadow. This cause for celebration and I set off with my current adult visitor to explore (slowly, very slowly) the hospital. Little did we know there would be hell to pay.

More tomorrow....

Another Day in Gitmo

2009-05-31T15:28:00.002-05:00

Let's see, sleep deprivation - check. Uncontrollable light and dark - check. Horrible food - check. Cruel tricks like giving me almost enough IV tubing to reach the toilet, but not quite enough - check. Long stretches without human contact or love - check. Morphine on demand - check. But wait. That changes everything.

My last 24 hours consisted of short stretches of dozing before being roused to take various measurements. A short period of feeling absolutely marvelous leading to the mistaken hope that I could blow this pop-stand come morning. What actually awaited me come morning was a splitting headache accompanied by chills. So much for going home.

I met with a new doc today who looked like something right out of a charles addams drawing. He was tall, thin - approaching cadaverous, and wore his black hair split up the middle and splayed to the sides as though styled by an axe. I am assured that he is brilliant and an expert in his field which is the study of lungers and other excretions that emanate from the lungs. I actually kind of liked him, but then again I am a big fan of charles addams.

I had another C T scan of the lungs an hour ago but the results are not in. Sometime in the near future I get to participate in some enhanced sputal ballistics in an attempt to get a gob of goo to travel from my lungs to a specimen cup without getting contaminated. I'll let you know how that goes.

He's a Flip-Flopper

2009-05-30T18:02:00.002-05:00

In my world, I am always suspicious when things go too well. I was in that frame of mind on Thursday, when I pulled the nasal packs out of my nose at 5 AM so that I could breath through my nose and get some sleep. Aside from a low-grade fever that cropped up that afternoon, there was no visible sign of having gone through two surgical procedures the day before. All was good.

Last night, I went to bed with juddering shakes and fever induced dream snakes crawling all over my body. I was in the EMOR by midnight and told to make myself at home for a few days.

Today I am enjoying push-button dosages of morphine to try to control whatever is chewing through the frontal lobe of my brain. The staff admits that they are more or less guessing at this point as to what is causing the pain and how to deal with it.

As for me, I am looking fondly at the button that will shoot the next dose of morphine into my IV. Once I push that button, my ability to write will most likely disappear.

So my friends, I will leave you now and try to post again when the fever gods let me up for a breath of air.

I also am alive

2009-05-25T10:58:00.002-05:00

Time fun when you're having flies.

Oh lordy, what all has happened since my last post? Risa started a job. We bounced back and forth from the Twin Cities a bunch. I went to the Mayo for a CT scan which showed continuous improvement on the lymphoma front and was graduated to quarterly visits instead of monthly. We drove two cars to Madison to pick up my daughter and her ungodly amount of shit. The station wagon looked like a pregnant Conestoga wagon with her futon frame, futon mattress, and a bicycle strapped to the top. Needless to say, mileage suffered on the way back. I scheduled my nasal reaming (this Wednesday) and managed to piggy-back a little lower body snip-snip into the mix as well. I plan on being a total baby latter this week. We have worked hard to get the deck fixed up with furniture, plants and bird feeders. Now if it would only warm up. That big, glorious body of water in front of us makes us pay for our spring pleasures.

We had a sieta de mayo party that was well attended and that I can't remember much of. My son, daughter, and I went to the memorial service of a dear friend and old neighbor who passed away due to acute leukemia. This brought back many memories for us as we struggled to find the right words of comfort for the surviving family who had lost their mom and wife. Turns out, there are no right words.

Now we are all in one house again, albeit a new one and are working on finding the harmonic dynamic of being a family under different conditions. My daughter is struggling with finding her place in a "new/old" town where she doesn't have any real friends yet. She has a job of sorts working the pool at a golf clubhouse, but that really hasn't started up yet, so she is spending a lot of time wondering what to do. She misses all of her old posse who are 150 miles south of here.

My son is looking at his last two weeks of school and IS NOT EFFECTIVELY LOOKING FOR A JOB - the little weasel. He apparently sees his role as driving around visiting with his friends and hanging out. Where he is getting his gas money is a mystery. He must be mugging old ladies.

The household has expanded its population of four-legged creatures as well. We now have two dogs and a cat so all in all, things have gotten more lively.

I am also setting up my stained glass studio again. I have been dragging my crated up glass around for thirty years now and I figure it's time to do something with it again. I have a potential job waiting if I can ever get hold of the client to select the type of glass he wants. I'll let you know more on that later.

Today is memorial day and we are going up to my brother's place for a BBQ. The weather has been beautiful (if cool by the lake) over the past four days, but today it is clouding over with sprinkles forecast for the afternoon. I wouldn't mind some rain actually. It's been very dry so far this month.

So that's life around here. I have been thinking guiltily about posting, but there always is some piece of work waiting for me. Maybe as I will be forced into inactivity for a period of time later this week, I will have more time to post. Till then -- TTFN

Roto Router

2009-04-29T17:08:00.002-05:00

Well, it's official, I need someone to go up my nose with power tools and high powered explosives and vacuums to clean up the mess that I have been carefully nurturing for the last eight months. This news came hard for me as I have come to love the several billion bacteria that call my sinuses home. What are they going to do? Where will they go? There's too much homelessness as it is and now my head has fallen victim to the rampant "Throw the Bastards Out" mentality that is pervasive in our selfish society of today. It's a heartless action if you ask me.

So, I've been thinking about it and as long as I am going to be out for the procedure, I might as well have a few more things cleaned up - like a vasectomy and maybe a toe amputation. Maybe they could re break my nose and get rid of that oh so slight twist that I have had since 1970. And now that I think of it, there are a few other cosmetic touch ups that could be done. How about a few hair plugs and a dye job, a tightening of the jowls, a silicon six pack injected into the abs, and a body wax.

I mean once you are out, why not go ALL out? It only makes sense. Just think of the economic stimulus benefits that would be created by all of this work. Why it's enough to send a surgeon's kid to at least two years of college. Maybe I could get a Presidential Commendation from Washington. Who knows?

There will be downsides to be sure. I'll have to stop pouring entire bottles of hot sauce on my eggs and pasta just to blast a sensation of taste past all of the gunk currently masking my taste/smell receptors. I will once again be able to smell my own farts (this one benefit almost makes inoperable sinuses worth it). And my voice will return to its "normal" tone rather than the "bottom of the well" pitch that has been my bane now for months. Who knows, I may be able to sing again.

One pitfall that may take a turn for the worse is my relatively new relationship with a wonderful woman who has known me only six months. I have been sick with this sinus infection every day of our time spent together. What if it is my nasal voice that she truly loves? Will my attempt to regain my health torpedo this young love? Stay tuned.

Beautiful Day

2009-04-22T19:59:00.002-05:00

Today was the kind of day that you wait for as the season slowly sheds its winter coat and contemplates a whole new wardrobe. It was still pretty cool up here where Canada is closer than our southern neighbor, Iowa. The great heat-sink of Lake Superior keeps things in the immediate vicinity a bit cooler than what you can find just up over the hill.

Still, a clear blue sky and temps in the low fifties were enough for us to put on our walkin shoes and head for the lakeside boardwalk that is accessible at the bottom of the hill I live on and takes us on a meandering path toward the redone waterfront district full of shops, galleries, and restaurants. We took advantage of all of that during the three and half hours that we were gone.

Upon returning, Marisa went off for her guitar lessons while I attended to my lame car as I gave another shot at freeing a recalcitrant brake fitting on the rear wheel that ruptured a couple of weeks ago. I was finally able to get the old hose off after days of soaking with penetrating fluid and taping a flare wrench carefully to break the fifteen year bond of rust on steel without kinking the solid brake line itself.

It was then that I discovered that the replacement hose that I had intended to put on was a lesbian where I needed a heterosexual model. Oh well, it was off to my favorite car repair shop, "Foreign Affairs" to see if they had a couple of replacement hoses for an old, fat, wagon. Much to my surprise, they did and I was finally able to get a new hose on the passenger rear wheel.

Unfortunately, the voice of prudence was whispering in my ear telling me that if one fifteen year old brake hose failed, then the chance that its partner failing was a lot better than Minnesota choosing its next senator anytime soon. So now the other side of the car is jacked up in the air and I am lying on my back gently tap, tap, taping the other rusted on hose to see if I can free that one up. So far the answer is "no" but tomorrow is another day as they say.

In other news from the northland I finally finished my last round of antibiotics in an attempt to beat the snot out of the snot that has turned into some kind of super powered cheese that has packed my sinuses for the last six months. It does not seem to have had much effect and so it looks like I am in for another CT scan of my head to see if there has been any positive change or not. If not, I am a candidate for a nasal roto-router session. Ack.

The next few weeks are shaping up to be busy ones. I need to get the White Whale back on the road because I need to shimmy down to Madison and collect my little girl from her first year away at school. Then there are the weekly trips to the Cities to check the house down there and water the plants. There's also another Mayo visit coming up as well.

Well, that's about it. Hope you are all enjoying the change in the seasons too, but I maintain that it is only in places like northern Minnesota that it is truly a religious experience.

Ta.

Broken Brake

2009-04-16T12:10:00.002-05:00

It's the day after max tax day and I still haven't filed my kid's returns. Yesterday, I was trying to do them with the help of a friend who did the keyboard work while I tried to supply answers to the questions while shuffling through all of the tax related documents (W2's, 1099 ints/divs/oids/B's/sqeeze/please/shootmeinthehead) and drinking beer left over in the keg from my birthday party (pretty flat now Moose).

This was made all the more interesting because I was blind in one eye and wearing dark glasses. This was because earlier in the day, after driving back up to Duluth with a car full of tools, parts, and miscellaneous junk (like my golf clubs), I foolishly attempted to unload my tool box from the car. Now, this tool box is sizable and has the mass of a small black hole. The car sighed gratefully and rose three inches as I did the strongman squat and grunt (pants survived) and with a mighty heave, lifted the chest just far enough to slide it out of the back of the car. Not having thought this plan through I realized as I staggered backwards that if I fell or dropped the chest the headlines on tomorrow's paper would read something like this "Man posthumously nominated for the Darwin Award after being crushed by his own tool box. Found in his garage, pinned under his tools and apparently crawling toward the beer keg in the corner."

And as much as I would have liked a beer, it was in the opposite direction from where the tool chest must go. As I staggered in that direction, straining with all I had to keep the bastard box from amputating anything important, vision blurring and turning dark, I eventually reached the spot designated as the temporary tool storage area and came to another realization - I somehow had to get the chest to the floor without dropping it. Have you ever tried to gently lower something that weighs as much as an elephant without killing yourself in the process? It ain't easy.

Fortunately for me, I had an ankle to break the fall as the toolbox won the contest with gravity and slammed down to it's "temporary" location. Stifling the normal response to such an event I walked (well limped) away congratulating myself for not spilling blood on the new cement floor, or scratching the paint in the process.

Having deposited my butt into a soft chair in front of the computer to recover from my recent strenuous exercise, I noticed that the left side of my peripheral vision in my left eye was being wonky. This began to worry me a little because I recently learned that the fluid pressure in my eyes was above the normal limit and the doctor kept whispering to his assistant during the exam and of course I understood none of it, but he deadpanned a lecture to me that contained the words "retinal tear" and "vitriol explosion" and "if you keep that up you could go blind" and here I was going blind and counting myself lucky that I didn't just shoot my entire eyeball out and then step on it while foolishly lugging my tool box when I should have just told my teenage son to do it for me (not that he would have, of course).

So, I called the eye doctor and after much hushed conversation just off the phone handset, I was instructed to come right in, which I did - not wanting to go blind just after finishing the house project that resulted in wonderful views of Lake Superior. I went broke do that and now I'm going to sit and look at that damned lake for a good long time.

Once at the office I went though the normal drill - eye drops that dilated the eyes, but in this case it was just the left eye AND they gave me TWO doses of some super secret extra strong dilator that should probably wear off in about twenty-four hours the tech said. Then the doctor came in and shined an industrial strength light into my eye that finished off the going blind process. Then he tipped the chair back so that it was finally comfortable, but before I could go to sleep he blasted me again with the light business which was to distract me I guess as he started pushing some sharp tool into the exposed portions of my eyeball.

Now I heard that the genius Issac Newton once explored the regions behind his eyeball with a butter knife just to see what was back there and I can now empathise with how difficult that must have been. I don't want to EVER do that test again.

In the end, the doc said that I was probably going to be OK and to come back and see him in four weeks. Hopefully, I'll be dead by then.

So anyway, that's why I couldn't do the taxes myself. We finally stopped the effort and resorted to gin and tonics over some grilled burgers and the night ended on a high note.

Oh, PS The Wonder Dawg has made a good recovery from her little episode a few weeks back. She still looks at you with her head cocked to the side like the RCA Dalmatian and she staggers a bit when she walks, but then so do I so I call it even steven.

Oh, PPS I started out wanting to tell you about the "fixing the brakes on the Audi" but that will have to be a story for another time.

Dawg is Better

2009-04-03T14:26:00.002-05:00

The Wonder Dawg is making a slow but steady recovery from her stroke like symptoms of last Saturday. We had a professional dog sitter (my 9 year old niece) stay with her while the party swirled around.

It was quite the deal. Lots of people from all strata. Loud music, good food, wine, and beer. We counted 29 empty wine bottles the next morning and I have been working on the keg for seven days now and I still can't lift it off the floor. I'll still be sucking on it come the Fourth of July.

My co-host and BD girl suffered a bout of narcolepsy about 10 pm and stubbornly refused the entreaties of her rock-star girlfriends to get up and rally for the cause. There was talk of taking sharpies to her for some sonombulant decorating, but it turned out to be all bluster (fortunate for the sleeping one).

I got to bed about 2 AM and was not too much the worse for the wear the next morning. I spent a slow hour picking up and washing things. All in all, it was a good time.

For those of you who missed it, you can still stop by and help me with the beer.

As for the Dawg, she is still staggering a bit, but the worst of the symptoms seem to have passed. It is not known if she will make a full recovery, but I am just so releaved to see her getting better and not dying of a stroke that I will be happy wherever she winds up.

So that's it for now. Just wanted to give you an update in case you were wondering how things went.

I've Been Bad

2009-03-28T16:33:00.002-05:00

Forgive me father for I have sinned. It's been too long since my last post. OK, I'll say seven Hail Moscow's and have someone beat me with a dead carpe diem.

We have been busy. There are two birthdays to celebrate, one car to fix, one house to sell, and one house to finish and a spring break to celebrate with the college girl and we have been burning the candles at both ends to accomplish these things.

I got the White Whale running and back up to Duluth a weeks ago. Since then, I have driven down and back to the Cities a couple of times. I have also driven to Madison to pick the girl up and delivered her a week later to the Cities to catch the megabus back to Madison.

I have also been gobbling pain meds like chicklets to keep the alien in my sinuses happy so it doesn't chew its way out any time soon.

The carpenters, the electricians, the plumbers, the HVAC'ers, and the painters all left the house yesterday saying they were done and they were never coming back which, of course, is not true but it is fun to imagine it that way. They took away almost all of their tools and equipement to help us believe they were really done, but I know better.

It helps though because tonight we are having a party. In part it is for my birthday (a couple of days early); in part it is for my (er, um) girlfriend's birthday, and in part it is to invite friends and neighbors over to welcome the new house as it nears it's completion. So, if you are in the neighborhood tonight, be sure to stop in. We will never finish the beer otherwise.

Just to complicate matters however, Sophie the Wonder Dawg decided to go into her "I've had a stroke and can't stand up" routine about eight this morning. This put a damper on the festivities. Instead of getting going on my killer pulled pork recipes, I was wondering if she was going to make it. A call to the vet had me watching her and hoping that things did not get worse, but they did. Over the period of about six hours, she went from normal to unable to walk. There was diarhea and vomiting as well and I thought this might be it. I was trying to figure how I was going to put on a happy face with my canine friend of thirteen years suffering a room away.

Finally we decided to make a run to the emergency vet clinic since it was the weekend and the normal vet was unavailable. After weighing, listening to heartbeats, taking of temperatures from the southern end, the vet opined that Sophie was suffering from "Idiot vestibule" disease (not really that, but I couldn't remember the technical term). The good news is that if she really is dealing with Idiot Vestibule disease, then there is a 98 percent chance that she will recover within 24 to 48 hours. The vomiting is caused by vertigo which is cause by the palsy and muscle control problems which are caused by the irritation of the vestibule nerves coming out of her little doggie brain.

So, we have a name for it, and the hope that she will get better, but in the mean time, we will have to bring food and water to her, dose her with dramamine, and carry her outside to do her business.

Meanwhile the guests are arriving at six.

What a life.

Not Dead - Yet

2009-03-07T10:55:00.003-06:00

So, instead of going out to dinner with friends last Thursday night, I went down to the local hospital and had a couple of CT-scans - one of my lungs and one of my head. We were looking for clues as to why I have been saddled with lungs full of goo and a head that feels like it's going to pop off any second. This has been going on for over five months.

The results came in the next morning. The lungs are fine, which is important because the chemo drug I am taking can cause lung infections and if the scan showed something like that, I would have to stop taking it.

The head however is very sick. I have a raging case of sinusitis which means all of my sinus cavities are filled up with some fiendish bug that has resisted all attempts at eradication. And when I say filled, I mean packed solid. The scan showed almost no clear space in there at all. Finally I have confirmation that something real is going on.

Since I have been taking antibiotics daily for almost four years as part of a long ended chemo treatment, I am afraid that I have grown a resistant form of bacteria in my little nasal petri dishes. Therefore my doc prescribed some form of super antibiotic that will kill all the good guys as well as the bad (I hope). This means probably diarrhea just in time for me to make the seven hour trip to pick up my daughter for spring break. I'll have to wear some of those diaper things.

Oh, and then there is the snow that is supposed to hit then as well and my only true winter driver is 150 south of here waiting for me to finish a radiator transplant (see previous posts for details of son's pickup truck kiss). This means that I take the Prius, which is a fine car but came equipped with a set of POS summer tires that turn into butter dishes at the first sign of snow. It's going to be quite the ride.

In other news, we are planning on celebrating a couple of birthday's and a housewarming in a couple of weeks. For me, it's one of those decade birthdays which are the only ones I celebrate now and deserves a good party. For someone special to me, it is just another BD that she feels the weight of. For the house, it's been a year under construction and is almost done. If the weather is friendly, we'll be out on the decks, sipping under the stars. It will be a good time and you are invited if you are in the area on March 28th.

As I said, I will be going down to Madison on Tuesday and back with a couple of passengers on Wednesday as I deposit them in the Twin Cities. Thursday I go down to the Mayo for one of my regular checkups and then back to the Cities where I have one day to stick a radiator into the White Whale and put everything back together and test it out by driving it to Duluth in time to make my beer making class at the local co-op. My fingers will be crossed.

My daughter will be joining us for a week when her Model UN session is done down in the Cities. It will be great to see her as her first year at college is slowly coming to a conclusion. What won't be so nice will be the inevitable squabbling over who gets to use which car when. Kids.

So, I think that's it for now. Sorry about being so tardy on the posts. Other things distract.

TTFN

Too Long Gone

2009-02-10T13:25:00.002-06:00

Sorry for the absence - life intrudes. It appears that it has been two weeks (my god) since I last posted and I seek absolution. I have been busy unpacking, repacking, driving between houses, and trying to feel better so that I can restart my chemo drug.

Yesterday I called the Mayo and told them "I feel better." and they said, "Do you want to restart the drug?" and I said "Yes." I suppose that they left the decision to me so that if I croak from a lung infection they can say that it was my choice and hope to avoid a nasty lawsuit should my descendants feel robbed of my presence. So I started again this morning.

The house in Duluth is almost done. We are living in it and moving tons of stuff into the cupboards in the kitchen and hooking up sound systems and computer networks and TV's and stuff. Occasionally I worry about what will happen when the housing inspector comes and finds us merrily living in a house that has not been given a habitation permit. What if he says we have to move out again? I have anxiety dreams which I figure I can blame this on.

Recently the weather gods have been playing cruel tricks on us by sending above freezing weather and rain instead of snow. This gets everyone's hopes up thinking that maybe winter is almost over when I know that winter lasts until June here in Duluth and that just when we think we may see the end of cold and snow we will get dumped on big time and have to wade through big drifts for another three months. On the other hand, we are finding lost construction materials laying all over the yard as the snow melts.

I am also happy to report that the gout has subsided for a while. I can walk without limping and can get my shoes on again. Crocs are my only foot covering option when the gout strikes and they are not a good winter footwear choice. Slush comes in all the holes.

OK, I am going to package up two netflix disks and send them back and then worry about dinner.

The Report

2009-01-24T11:26:00.002-06:00

Yesterday was one of those long days where I had to rise long before the sun, hop in the car and drive two hours south to the Mayo Clinic for an early CT-scan followed by hours of doing nothing before seeing the doc midway through the afternoon to get the results and to find out whether this is the end of the line for me or whether I get an extension of life for another month.

Needless to say, there is a certain amount of stress and anxiety added to my normal level of craziness on days like this. I never know what the verdict will be and have to work hard not to let myself get too bent out of shape. It is a zen exercise.

Yesterday I had the added elements of exhaustion (slept poorly the night before) and gout that ensured that I could not find a comfortable way to sit, stand, or walk. I was a wreck by the time the doc appointment arrived.

The news was both good and unsettling. The good part was that all of the lymph nodes that we have been measuring throughout my body were smaller (yea). The unsettling part was that the scan showed something in my left lung that was either an infection or something else. Because one of the known potential side effects of RAD-001 is possible lung infections the doc decided that I should stay off the drug for two weeks at which time we will re-evaluate my situation.

So, I am going to call her in two weeks and tell her whether I feel "better" or not. How's that for a scientific method? I don't know if this explains my on-going cough or not. The artifact on the scan could be fluid in my lung that is part of this long lasting "cold" or it could be a drug related infection. Either way, I hope that in two weeks I can call back and say that it is gone and then I can restart the study drug. We shall see.

Anyway, that's the news. I am staying at the still-unsold house in the Twin Cities until tomorrow when my son and I will drive back north to our semi-permanent construction zone. My chore today is to go looking for towel racks and toilet paper holders. What fun.

This is a Whant

2009-01-22T20:23:00.002-06:00

A "whant" is a "whine" plus a "rant" - whant.

I am whanting because I now have gout in both feet at the same time. WTF? What did I do to deserve this? Whatever it was, I must have been a corker. Maybe it's that hex that was put on me a while back. This would certainly qualify as hex material.

In this shot (which I took by balancing my mac laptop on my knees facing away from me and pressing the "go" bar) which is reversed, you can see my regular gout buddy, the first knuckle on the left foot (right in this shot) and my new torment, the end knuckle of my right big toe.

Tomorrow I head for the Mayo for my regular checkup and my once-every-three-months CT scan and I have a lot of time between the morning scan and the afternoon sit down with the doc. Maybe I can wander around and find some young resident to amputate my big toes for practice.

What da ya think?

A Post From Down South

2009-01-16T16:27:00.002-06:00

Greetings from the "Southern Casa." Oh for the day that I do not have more than one casa to say this from. Oh well, what can you do?

Actually, I remain hopeful. I received notice yesterday that a couple wants to come by for a fourth showing. She is sold, but he is iffy if my reading of the signs are right. Anyway, they are coming by tomorrow morning for another look see. I am keeping my fingers crossed.

Of course, the house looks partially stripped. There are great empty expanses and boxes stacked in the corners. About half of the furniture is missing. The nice thing is that this house has such fine bones that you hardly notice. If anything, it is the house that is accentuated which is what we are looking for after all. So, send positive thoughts our way tomorrow between 10 and 11 AM central standard time.

Today is my son's golden birthday and he has spent it so far by sleeping in (a plus), hanging out with a girl friend (note the space, but still a plus), taking his last behind the wheel training session and getting cleared to take his license test (a definite plus (in his mind)), and now waiting to go to another girl friend's house for a homemade birthday dinner. He is having a good time. The only thing missing is the large family gathering that has accompanied these events in the past.

Tomorrow we will head back north after he has lunch with two favorite aunts. The day after that, my daughter and I will pack the Prius to the brim and head to Madison for her return to college after a month long winter break. I am hopeful that my return from that trip will signal the start of a calmer time in our lives. The new house is almost done and once we have moved in and settled down, I look forward to thinking about what new challenges might be in front of us.

We shall see.

Insomnia

2009-01-12T04:44:00.002-06:00

It's quarter to five in the AM (cold, dark, AM) and I can't sleep. I have been waking up on the hour and rolling over to see if I had magically slept until 6 when I would rise and get the boy up and in the shower, but alas no. It was just an hour (or less) since the last time I checked. So, I finally got up, fed the dog and sat down to do a quick, overdue post.

As you may recall, the last update involved packing up part of the old house and moving it to the new. Well that part went fine though it was a long and exhausting day. But instead of sitting around on our newly transplanted furniture watching the big screen, everything we moved is either still in its box or under tarps. There is sheet rock mud powder everywhere along with the sawdust and general airborne particulate matter that accompanies construction sites. The house is still not ready for habitation though the kids have staked out their bedrooms upstairs. They normally live in such a state of disarray that mere construction debris is hardly noticable.

I, on the other hand, prefer to live in the apartment in the basement until I can move upstairs without feeling like I am camped in the sahara desert with grit everywhere.

On the positive side of things, the special paint job that we commissioned looks really good. It's a two stage process with a base coat of one color and a top coat of another that is "ragged" on. I am very happy with the results. The painters should be done in a couple of days and the last minute taping and sanding should also be done soon. Once that has finished, the tarps will come off the furniture and we can begin the cleaning process that is needed before articles can be stored in the kitchen cupboards.

We are still waiting on some closet and pantry shelving units that will hopefully make an appearance this week. There are a million little electrical and plumbing items that need to be taken care of before the house is truly livable. I have to make decisions and order more lighting fixtures, towel and toilet paper racks, etc. It is mostly down to the little niggly things now.

A large part of last week was spent in the Twin Cities. It was Youth In Government weekend which is where approximately 1600 kids from all over the state take over the state capital and the downtown Minneapolis Hilton for four days and form a shadow state government and legal system. My daughter was involved in the program for four years when she was in middle and high school and this year, she came back as an advisor. My son participated for the second year now, following his sister's footsteps through the court system.

I hung out at our old place trying to do some more packing and attempted to put the "picked over" interior in a better mode for any prospective buyers should someone want to see the house. Not much came back with me this time since we are not able to unpack what we already have here. I did bring two vacuum cleaners up which can be put to good use soon.

This week will be spent trying to whip the new house into some kind of livable shape. My daughter has to return to college next Sunday, so I will be spending as much time with her as possible. My son's sixteenth birthday is Friday and we have to drive back down to the Cities for his last behind-the-wheel session prior to taking his driver's license test. We have already had a couple of head butting sessions over what freedoms he will inherit immediately and what will have to come in timed stages. Sigh. Impatient youth.

It is hard to believe, but the home buying/remodel/rebuild adventure is really starting to approach some kind of closure. It has been such a huge project that has consumed me in so many ways that I wonder what life will be like on the other side of it. Well, I will have some time yet before that question needs to be answered.

Anyway, there you have it.

Words of Advice

2008-12-30T14:12:00.002-06:00

Do not take yourself off of anti-depressants just before you try to pack up your house (by yourself). Yuck.

I have been at this for about a day and a half now. I lost most of yesterday driving around getting repair estimates for the Audi. That guy will be sleeping in the garage down here until I can replace the radiator.

Everything I touch is transports me to a memory (or memories) of the past. It is exhausting work and I find myself hitting the wall every so often. I have to stop what I am doing and wander around aimlessly as I try to work up some inspiration.

Unpacking on the other hand should be interesting as I will have to decide where to put all of these new things (or throw them out).

Just needed to whine a little.

Move It

2008-12-29T17:11:00.002-06:00

A truck will arrive here (the southern house) early on Wednesday morning and we will (hopefully) commence loading furniture and boxes for the trip north.

I drove down yesterday in the Audi only to start getting low-coolant warnings about ten miles from my destination. Today, instead of packing boxes, I spent the day at body shops and at my insurance agents (interspersed with visits to the gas station to buy more antifreeze to feed my leaking coolant system).

This is all a result of a slow speed altercation (see previous post) with a pick up truck's rear bumper (there ought to be a law against high mounted steel beam bumpers that hit you in the grill instead of on your bumper). The repair estimates came in at about half the blue book value which insures a "total" on the car if I turn it in. If I decide to fix it myself it will still run in the thousands but not nearly as much as the "official" body shop estimates.

If I replace the radiator the rest can wait until spring or when I get a heated garage to work in. No more minus 30 repairs while laying on cold concrete for me.

Now that all of that is out of the way, I can get down to packing. If any of you are in the TC region and want to have a really good time wrapping plates and glasses and packing them in boxes, come on over tomorrow and we will fix you up.

TTFN - P.

Unexpected Presents

2008-12-23T23:37:00.004-06:00

It has been quite a day.

Last night, we had the inaugural meal cooked in our new kitchen when my daughter invited six of her best friends up to Duluth for their annual spaghetti extravaganza. There followed much singing and dancing of said girls for several hours as I lay on the bare concrete floor of one of the upstairs rooms having given up the apartment to the feminine horde.

I slept just about as well as you might imagine until I was finally roused by the arrival of the work crew. I made my way down to the basement apartment where I surveyed the tableau of seven girls sharing three beds with enough gear and cast off clothing to cover every bit of floor leaving a small hole where Sophie the Wonder Dawg was curled in a tiny ball.

After taking her for her morning constitutional and feeding her breakfast, I attempted to read the paper while having my morning coffee whilst surrounded by a fog of estrogen. I had to periodically leave the scene to go upstairs and inhale the counterbalancing essence of testosterone exuded by the all male work crew. I even was forced out to do some shoveling of the four inches of fresh snow that had fallen overnight.

Eventually, the female posse rose en-mass to try to all fit into one very small bathroom before gathering their belongings and piling into a van for the return trip to the Twin Cities. That left me and my daughter to do some cleanup and dish washing before we ventured out ourselves for some last minute shopping (she for christmas, me for the house). Along the way, we got a phone call from the number one son who asked that we pick him up from school.

We did just that and then continued on up to "the mall" which in Duluth means a sprawling mess of various strip stores all separated by two lane access roads which were virtual parking lots this afternoon as everyone in the city decided to arrive at the same spot at the same time to attend to those last minute shopping needs.

After struggling through the traffic mess, we attended to our own needs before heading back to the comparative peace and safety of our home, when a coughing fit engulfed me. On the very first cough, I felt something snap inside of my rib cage and the ensuing pain caused me to cry out several blistering epithets interlaced with moans and futile attempts to rip out the weasel that seemed buried just beneath my lower left set of ribs. Both kids thought I was having a heart attack. I wish. At that moment I would have welcomed a little unconsciousness.

After ascertaining that I was not going to die in the immediate future, my son drove us the rest of the way home where I collapsed on the sofa and searched for a position where I did not feel like slitting my wrists. I was hoping to make it through the night so that I could see my new GP tomorrow morning for a scheduled appointment. That plan was shot the first time I coughed again. That led to a trip to urgent care.

I staggered out to the car where my son was already behind the wheel and we proceeded to back into the alley and then down the hill to the main street leading to the hospital. We made it about ten feet before the car took on a mind of its own and refused all of the drivers attempts to tame it into stopping as we slowly, but inexorably slid into the back of a pickup truck waiting at the stop sign at the bottom of the hill.

This was a nightmare for several reasons. The driver (my son) had never had an accident before. He is nearly at the end of his permit year and is looking forward to getting his license in mid-January. The car is my baby station wagon that bleeds my blood whenever hurt. And I was seeing insurance premiums ballooning beyond the already exorbitant rates that accompany any newly licensed male driver.

Fortunately, no one was hurt. The pickup sustained no obvious damage but the same could not be said of the Audi. Her front grill was pushed in and the bumper shell shattered on the driver's side. We pulled over where it became apparent that we were going to have to wait in line for the police to take down our report details as we were the second fender bender to have occurred there in as many minutes. In fact, as we were standing around waiting for the police cruiser to appear, several more cars came sliding down the hill out of control. At least two ended up in the side yard of the house I grew up in.

All this time of course, I was bent double in pain, swearing under my breath at the evil sense of humor of the gods, and the slow reaction time of Duluth's finest. We eventually completed our business but it meant a good forty-five minute delay in getting to urgent care. Once there, I went through the drill of giving my story to every single person in scrubs which unfailingly led to a series of misunderstandings. Somehow my explaination of breaking a rib by coughing came across as "difficulty breathing," "asthma," "shortness of breath," etc. The doctor ordered a nebulizer treatment that made me cough - an unusually cruel trick - and one that did nothing for my problem. A new chest and rib xray turned up clueless results which lead me to assume they were looking at someone elses insides as mine clearly had a large treble hooked musky lure buried in my guts which would have been obvious to anyone looking at the correct picture.

In the end (a long time coming), I was given some powerful pain meds with a followup prescription for same and sent home.

Hence I am sitting in a curiously pain free fog as I dash off this little memoir wishing that I were able to sleep sitting up for I know that as soon as I lie down, the broken ends of my nonexistant failed rib will begin to grate as I shift and turn seeking a comfortable position. Then the coughing will start and then I will get out the shotgun to end it all.

So, look forward to the next installment where our Charlie Brown christmas tree will topple over and catch on fire just as we are about to open presents.

Dog bless you everyone.

P.

Tis the Season

2008-12-17T19:51:00.003-06:00

I sit here with a few measly days left to prepare for the upcoming holidays. This is our tree this year with the bountiful offerings spread below it. Actually, the whole house is our gift this year, but I don't suppose the kids will see it that way.

Speaking of the house, the kitchen and bathroom counters arrived today and look way cool. Tomorrow the appliances are supposed to make an appearance and the plumbing parts are supposed to show up as well. The painter is busy staining doors and trim. The carpenters are trying to finish the trim. The carpet is on order and scheduled to hit town on Tuesday. The inspectors are invited in about the same time so it should be quite a zoo.

I head south tomorrow to rendezvous with my daughter, water the plants, visit with some friends, and hang for a day or two. My son will be coming down Friday afternoon so that he and his sister can go to the in-law Christmas party. He and I will head back north on Sunday for more fun and games in the construction zone.

As hard as I try, this part of the year is a difficult one. Christmas was never my cup of tea due to the heavy commercial overlay on what might otherwise be a warm and personal season. Somewhere along the line I picked up the label of Grinch which has proven stubbornly persistent regardless of what I do or say. Now it falls to me to lead the way through the holidays without the guiding light that used to accompany me. I am a sorry second for her efforts, but we don't always get to choose our roles, so I will do my best with our little tree (at least it is a living thing that may go on to live its life out with us for some time yet).

I am in the process of changing my email address and as luck would have it, I managed to send a bunch of my contacts into the either the other day, so those of you who have my email on file, drop me a line and I will send you back the new one.

Best of luck, one and all, during these last few hectic days.

TTFN

P.

2008-12-08T11:50:00.002-06:00

It's a busy time here in the northern casa. Tile is being laid, trim is going up and getting stained, the new HVAC system is getting installed, and today, the cabinet boys started carrying in boxes and drawers that will soon become bathroom vanities and kitchen cabinets. The interior is going to go through some radical visual changes over the next two weeks.

We are still hoping to move upstairs the day before Christmas, but that will depend on everything going according to plan (a dubious expectation in my experience) and the city inspectors signing off on occupancy. Assuming all of this comes to be, we will celebrate Christmas without much in the way of furniture camped around a miniture tree and being warmed by space heaters because the in-floor heating system can't be turned on until the tile has been in for 28 days.

Then, in the week between Christmas and New Year's, we will be shuttling between the southern house and the northern one, packing and moving. It will be an insane way to end one year and start another. We will see.

Our college fresh(wo)man will be arriving home (both of them) sometime next week. She won't get up north until the 22nd but will be on break for about a month. It will be nice to have her back with us for that time. She will be a big help on the packing/moving effort since she has quite a bit of stuff that needs to be gone through before it actually gets moved north.

This time of year sees a lot of stress under the best of circumstances and this year it is topping out over the levee's. I think we are all doing pretty well, but there is so much that needs to be done. I haven't even started on the whole gift thing. Ack.

My health seems to be holding its own except for the nagging "cold" that lingers on. I am in the process of finding new doctors, dentists, veternarians to care for all of our ails when we might need them. I hope I can land some good ones on the first try.

Sometime on the other side of the new year, we will be in a position to have visitors. Once the boxes have been emptied (or at least stuck away in some dim corner) and the furniture has been set in place, we will have lots of room for visitors, whether for a meal, a chat, or for a night's lodging. One reason we laid the plans as we did was so that we could offer our friends and relatives a place to rest when passing through this part of the country and we hope that you will take us up on that when the opportunity arises. We would love to see you.

We are also in the process of changing email providers. I will post our email links in a little while when we are certain that all of the new options are working.

Anyway, I needed to post an update to let you know that no one has committed me yet, though that remains a possiblity over the remaining month. If you see a strange guest author hanging a note up here, you will know that I am taking a mental health vacation in some full-service, padded motel.

Till then,

TTFN

Bloat

2008-11-28T08:36:00.002-06:00

This is what I spent my Wednesday doing. One pumkin, one southern bourbon pecan, and one sweet potato with praline topping. Yesterday at the bloat, the pumkin was heavily hit, the sweet potato was 40% consumed, and the bourbon pecan had only one sliver taken out (mine). So I have some consuming to do. Actually, I would like for you all to stop by and have a slice. I'll even throw in a free house tour as part of the package.

As far as the bloat went, we had a reduced head count this year as one branch of the family went south to be with kin who had to work today (Friday), and the coastal sibs stayed put to save on travel costs to be used for later visits.

So there were only about fifteen to twenty of us gathered at my brother's new house out in the woods just outside the city limits. My brother (#3) and his wife have been exceedingly generous about hosting family gatherings over the past several years as they usually had a central location in town and the room to accomodate the various participants. We previously gathered at my parents house even though it was a bit small for the hoard that would descend like locusts on every holiday meal that was set out.

This role will now fall to me as steward of the "last" family house and the recent additions will allow the multiple generations to spread out a bit prior to sqeezing in around the table. I hope that we can do a test drive around Christmas this year, though it will be touch and go on that I am afraid.

As payment for the feast consumed yesterday, the universe has gifted me with an attack of gout that began last night and has now reduced me to a pitiful, whiny, sack of pain; immobilized on my bed with my left foot elevated and my laptop on my (imagine this) lap. My daughter, home from college, is crashed on the couch next to me (remember that my "bed" is a mattress on the floor of the living room in the apartment located in the basement of the construction zone), and the Wonder Dawg is snoring on her "really needs a bath" blanket at my feet (er, foot). My son is hanging with his cousins which is a lot more fun than being here and having to clean up his room.

Today looks like it will be a quiet one for us. I contemplated getting up at 4 AM to get in line at the local mall (NOT), but decided that the laptop and the internet would do just as well for any shopping I have to do. For me, it looks like a run to urgent care for some gout meds (crushed up chicken hearts I suspect) and a visit to the local vampire lab for my weekly blood draw.

I'll let you know if the chicken hearts work.

The Latest

2008-11-23T09:40:00.002-06:00

We now have internet access at the new house. My son is ecstatic (well, not really, but he should be. The little spawn of satan doesn't ever seem to appreciate what he has). I am happy. Now I don't have to lug the laptop to some cafe or bar to check my email which has had the predictable results of too much barley therapy as a side adjunct of internet access.

We are still living in the basement of the house in a little one bedroom apartment. The SOS (see above) has the bedroom while I am sacking out on a mattress in the corner of the living room which is fine with me except for one thing. It really puts a crimp in my social life which was not a concern a few weeks ago, but that has changed and I look forward to the day when I have my own room with a door that closes.

Speaking of that, the house continues to progress. We now have real doors in place for the exterior entries instead of plywood that would get screwed into place every night. We have new insulated garage doors in place though the openers are not yet hooked up. The large picture window facing the street that arrived at the site already broken has been fixed so it doesn't look like a ghetto pad anymore. The masons have completed some of the rock work on the outside which looks really nice. We have temporary electricity and lighting set up now throughout most of the house. Some exterior landscaping has been done though most of it will have to wait until spring since the ground is now starting to freeze.

So it continues to happen, but I wish for it to happen faster.

I went down to the Mayo for my monthly checkup last Friday. Things look stable and perhaps a little better over the previous visit. It's hard to tell without a CT scan, but I'll take this kind of news any day. My blood counts are holding up with the new, full-dose amounts of the study drug which is encouraging. If I could only get rid of the cold-from-hell I would be nearly as good as new.

Let's see. Anything else? Don't think so. TTFN.

P.

Unexpected Events

2008-11-10T12:43:00.002-06:00

I have not been writing because something happened to me a little over a week ago.

My son and I went to a local cafe for a bite of supper before dashing off to a Halloween party - the same cafe where I now sit writing this to you because I can get an internet connection here (we still don't have it at our under construction house).

As we were being led to our booth, I momentarily made eye contact with a woman sitting in the next booth and something happened. I don't really know how to explain it. It took only a nano-second, but it has changed my life. I felt a shock course through me and time stopped. For that instant, something passed between us. Then it was over and I was sitting down, facing my son, our conversation never missing a beat, but inside I was wondering what had just occurred.

Over the course of our meal, I kept trying to sit up taller to see if I could peer over the top of the high wooden booth and once again make eye contact with the woman on the other side. I could see the top of her head but little else. I finally had to resort to the old "I have to go to the bathroom" ploy which allowed me to stand up, glance quickly into the other booth and then make my way to the john for an unneeded pee break. Upon returning there was a second chance to stare for a moment at the mysterious woman dining with a friend just on the other side of our booth divider. Each time, there was a fleeting connection that fairly crackled with tension.

When my son and I were done and preparing to leave, I did something compleatly out of character for me. After debating with myself for several minutes, I tore off part of the paper strip the bill came on and scribbled my first name and cell phone number upon it. As I passed our waiter on the way out, I asked him if he would deliver it to the blond sitting in the next booth. Then we were outside and my appalled son asked me what the hell was going on. I said that I was temporarily deranged and that the condition would soon pass. We then went home to prepare for the party.

By the time we had changed into costumes and had driven to the party, I had almost forgotten my crazy moment at dinner. I thought that whomever it was probably had immediately discarded the scrap of paper or that perhaps the waiter, being busy, had stuck it into his apron where it would be discovered weeks later with other scraps of debris and minute bits of food. I was therefore surprised when my phone buzzed an announcement of a newly arrived text message while I stood trying to sip a beer surreptitiously through my surgeon's mask. The only person that texts me on a regular basis is my son who was sitting 50 feet away from me taking tickets at the door.

Upon opening my phone, I found a message from a number that I did not recognize asking me who I was and what I was doing. It was the mystery woman.

What followed was a fairly surreal evening of too much alcohol, weird costumes, fervid dancing, and coy text messages passing between two strangers. Eventually the messaging stopped as my MW ceased responding to my queries.

It was with a bit of difficulty that I rose to awareness the next morning, dragged from sleep by the sound of a text message arriving in my phone which lay on the floor next to my sleeping pad. Upon cracking a bleary eye and picking up the phone, I saw that the MW had sent me a morning greeting, apologizing for not responding to my last couple of posts from the night before due to her being mugged by the sandman. To make up for it, she proposed meeting at a local coffee house for a cuppa. In a slight panic, I agreed.

See, it is one thing to flirt with a total stranger via the anonymous and completely senseless medium of text messaging, but it is something completely different to sit down with someone you do not know in the cold, clear light of morning especially after a night of saying who knows what salacious things to them as the effects of mucho beer slowly invaded the higher thinking portions of one's brain. Extra especially when said beer was still mudifying said brain the next morning. But agree I did.

So, I sat there at the coffee house wondering who was going to walk through the door. What if the waiter passed my note to the wrong person? What if I had been flirting with someone totally different from the MW? What if, instead of the electricity of the previous evening, I experienced only the sinking feeling of a "what the fuck have I done" moment when sobriety and morning's light showed me what a fool I had made of myself. Then she walked through the door.

It was the MW. She saw me and came over with a smile on her face.

What followed was an hour of polite conversation as we each tried to gauge the other. We admitted a mutual moment of be zapped when our eyes met the night before, but that was merely the moment that intrigued us to know more.

In that hour as we slowly sipped our coffee, we danced and parried, quized and answered, told each other a bit our our life's story. All too soon, it was time to go. As we chastely shook hands, I said that I would like to see her again and if that would be OK. She said yes, that that would be good. Then we went our separate ways and I returned to our apartment puzzling over the events of the last 24 hours.

Later that night, I got a text asking me if I would like to meet for a drink before turning in. Well, one thing has lead to another and I now find myself intrigued and enmeshed. I am fully aware that infatuations are heady but often lead to nothing once the glow wears off. I am also aware of the quickness with which all of this has occurred. What happens next is yet to be written. Just know that I have been happily blindsided by this and am more than willing to go along for the ride to see where it goes.

More than that, I cannot share. I just wanted you to know that my silence was not due to my normal procrastination, but something more.

I'll let you know how it goes.

P.

Pit Sweet Pit

2008-10-27T18:07:00.001-05:00

We are in the house. In the basement with no blinds or curtains on the windows, no shower curtain in place, all of our kitchen stuff still in boxes and bags on the counters or floor, but in the house none the less. I am completely exhausted.

I am sitting on my “bed” which is a mattress on the floor of what would be the living room at a more civilized time. My son has the bedroom (as promised) and is safe behind his closed door doing whatever teenage boys do at 10:30 on a Sunday night.

We started the day early about 150 miles south of here when we rose from our beds in our “other” home and hopped in the car for a teen driving clinic put on by the local Audi club. This is a wonderful event that teaches young drivers some of the things that driver’s education does not dwell on, such as emergency braking, unexpected lane changes at speed, how to recover from a wheel slipping off the pavement at speed, wet and dry slalom events, and the dreaded (and loved) skid pad exercise.

This is the second teen clinic that I have attended as a parent and a course assistant. The first was two plus years ago with my daughter and it was one of those hot summer days when you had to be careful to drink enough water. Today, on the other hand, saw temps dipping down close to the freezing zone with high winds, sleet and snow. My job was to stand out in that mess and pick up all of the rubber cones the drivers smashed and mangled on their way around the course.

After eight hours of that, we got to drive home, release the Dawg from prison, switch cars and drive another two and a half hours north in the dark and wind to our new home.

When we left here on Friday, there was no electric, heat, or hot water in the apartment. When we arrived here tonight, we had all three. Thanks to all who put in an extra effort to make that happen. We have plenty of work to do to make this a little bit of home for the next six to eight weeks (hey, I’m an incurable optimist) while the rest of the house gets finished off. At least we are not paying through the nose by the week for an additional place to live.

I am going to sign off now. This will get posted sometime tomorrow when I get within internet range. That’s another thing that we haven’t got here yet. Hopefully that will change in the coming week.

Ta ta all.

Delinquent Again

2008-10-12T21:03:00.002-05:00

It's been brought to my attention that I have not been posting very frequent - and it's true. Not because of anything wrong, just a run of the mill life I guess. I can run through the gist of it in a couple of sentences.

I still have the remnants of the cold my son gave to me four weeks ago. I have been doing some grouse hunting (more like grouse "looking for" and walking amongst the brilliant fall colors in the woods with the Wonder Dawg) when I have a few hours on the odd week day. The Duluth house is coming along but never as fast as we want. We hope to move into the apartment there someday next week. The house in the Cities had it's first showing in over six months last week. No word on whether the prospects want to buy. I refuse to look at my financial statements. I will see my daughter in a few days as she is coming back to the Cities for the weekend. I will stay down there to make and appointment at the Mayo on Tuesday where I will have a CT-scan to see how the experimental drug is doing. I go in for student conferences on Thursday morning where I will hear from my son's teachers how he is getting along in his new high school.

There, now you are all caught up. That wasn't so hard now was it? I hope that once we actually make the complete transition to the new house that I will feel the urge to wax more lirical (is that proper language usage?). Everything seems so temporary right now - life chopped into short bits - that my writing has suffered.

It could be worse though. I might have too much of the wrong kind of thing to write about and I would prefer we keep the current arrangement, thank you very much. So, I wish I could entertain you with more, but that's all she wrote.

The Badger

2008-09-29T17:03:00.002-05:00

The badger is a much maligned animal, somewhat furtive, and mostly nocturnal. This one was captured by a trail side camera in Minocqua, Wisconsin last weekend. As you can see, this particular specimen must have been disturbed as it emerged from its burrow after watching the Wisconsin football game. We sighted it later skulking around the periphery of a wedding dance that our whole family managed to attend.

The event saw my nephew joined in holy matrimony with a native of the region - hence the road trip to the Minocqua/Rhinelander region of north central Wisconsin. My son and I (and Sophie the Wonder Dawg) made a leisurely jaunt down through the side roads of the Chaquamagon National Forest, taking in the wonderful color provided for our personal enjoyment.

The fact that all of my brothers and sisters were able to make it, as well as my collegiate daughter, provided me with a lot of family bonding and a chance to catch up with the various goings on of everyone.

All three of my out of town siblings traveled back to Duluth after the affair. One had to leave immediately for the east coast, but the other two had a bit more time for family. One will leave tonight after a family dinner, and the other will go with me tomorrow to the Twin Cities to catch a flight on Wednesday.

Not much else to convey today. My health seems to be holding (if you don't count the killer kold my son passed on to me) and the Duluth house continues to come together. The other one, on the other hand, is not getting any business. The current economic clime is not helping.

Anyway, that's all for now. Cheers.

Virus Induced Insomnia

2008-09-15T03:24:00.004-05:00

It's 3:30 fucking AM and I am not asleep. Instead, I am sitting up in bed with my companion - some dude who never speaks but carries this big old-fashioned sickle and wears a smelly old robe with a hood that hides his/her/its face.

I can't sleep because I can't breath. I can't breath because all of the normally open parts of my head are now full of green slime that insists on leaking out whenever I am just about to drop off. And, we are out of Kleenex. Fuck. Paper towels are just not the same.

I am a lousy patient. I grumble and am crabby with those around me - especially the ones who passed this lovely little piece of biological warfare along. I want to climb into a hole and drink hot toddies until it is all over. But since there are only two humans involved in this domestic equation and only one of them is an adult with a drivers license, I have to shamble through the day leaking and mumbling and saying "fuck" a lot. Fuck.

I knew this was going to happen last week when my son, who was cleaning up after dinner, said "I think I'm getting sick." Fuck. He then proceeded to sniffle, snort, sneeze, and the next day complained every which way from Sunday that he should not have to go to school in this condition. I was sympathetic but told him that he was going to school and that was that. He said, "Fuck."

Once he was out the door, I did some cleaning of my own, walked the Wonder Dawg (who appears to be feeling much better, BTW, and has stopped trying to amputate her front legs at the shoulder using her hide feet to scrape holes in her arm pits - yea) one last time, and hopped in the car for my weekly jaunt to the unsold southern estate.

This last weekend was an unusually busy time for me as I uncharacteristically had two lunches scheduled and two evening dates on my calendar which left precious little time for wandering around the house naked, scratching all of the parts that itched, and saying "fuck" a lot as I looked at all of the stuff left that I have not yet packed and moved into storage, which is mostly everything. Fuck.

The first evening date was a fundraiser for an organization that I have supported for most of my adult life. I took place in the huge and very nice house of a well known business person and philanthropist right on the Mississippi River in downtown Minneapolis. I decided to drive the White Whale down to the event because it mostly sits these days and needs to get out on the road on a semi regular basis to get the battery charged back up and to move the fluids around so the seals don't dry up. Plus it was still clean from the previous weeks jaunt up to the car show in Osceola. See below.

Fuck. When I stuck this picture in, all of the text above turned into some kind of link and now I can't get rid of the underlined format. Fuck.

So anyway, I decided to drive the wagon down to the event even though the Prius would have been more politically correct because it was that kind of group, but the Prius was covered in detonated bugs and I needed a change of pace. So off I went on a beautiful Friday night to see how some of the rich and famous live, give them a check for a good cause, drink a bit of red wine and nosh on fancy finger food served by not so rich and famous out of work actors in white shirts and black pants. The whole thing went smashingly. I didn't dump my wine down my front or anyone elses, I didn't knock any old ladies over, I managed to not get in conversations with any old girlfriends whom I didn't recall in the slightest thereby leading to an uncomfortable and awkward evening. And the event was capped off by the appearance of a local celebrity who is known for his weekly radio shows about a little town on the prairie where "All the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average."

By the end of his comments, I was ready to go. The temperatures inside the house had been steadily rising as the pace of the rhetoric increased and I was now feeling small rivers of sweat streaming down my sides and was thinking that this was going to shortly ruin my facade as a sort of blue jeaned bon vivant and I therefore edged my way through the crowd and out the door at the earliest opportunity.

The night was still beautiful. Not a cloud in the sky. The streets full of people having a good time. The walks along the river crowded with bikers, skaters, joggers, doggers, and probably a few muggers as well. I ambled along up the street to where I had left the Whale and as it hove into view around a curve in the road, I was suddenly struck with chilled blade that went straight to my heart - for emanating from under the Whale was a slick of fluid in the street about two car lengths long. Fuck.

Of course, it could be overflow from a recent lawn sprinkling, but I didn't think so. My worst fears were confirmed upon reaching the car and crouching down to peer underneath. It appeared that the Whale had moved its fluids a bit more that I would have wished. Fuck.

I unlocked the car, tossed in my sport coat, popped open the hood and looked for the culprit. It took me all of ten seconds to find it.

I think I wrote a bit ago about going down to the southwest corner of the metro area to meet up with some old friends from my previous employment. No sooner had I arrived at the corner of the street where we were to meet when all hell broke loose. My dash warning lights all lit up and I noticed steam emanating from under the hood accompanied by the strong smell of hot anti-freeze.

That night, I wound up flat bedding the car home to the tune of a couple hundred bucks only to find that nothing was broken but rather one of the cooling hoses had slipped off of a plastic T-connector on the back side of the engine block. A bit of work with a screw driver and a hose clamp and all was good to go.

Fast forward to the present and you would have seen me peering into the dark recesses behind the still very hot engine just barely able to make out the black plastic T-fitting and the two black rubber hoses that connect to it in the dark recess behind the engine. One of the hoses had come off. Fuck.

Now, this is an easy problem to fix if you happen to have a long screw driver or a quarter inch ratchet drive, a 5/16" inch socket (the hose clamps were from NAPA), and about 14 inches of extensions. And a cold engine because in order to get your hands on these hoses you need to contort yourself in a serious way to reach down between the engine and the firewall in the midst of a very crowded area full of wires, hoses, fittings, and other delicate things that shouldn't be nudged or stretched, or disrupted in any way. Because of the location of the T-fitting, this operation proves to be almost impossible without resting your forearms on top of the engine valve cover at its rearmost end. Did I mention that the engine was still quite hot? Fuck.

Well, I didn't have much choice in this unless I wanted to drop another couple of bills (not) and flatbed the pig home. So, in my chic finery (clean blue jeans and a black long-sleeved T) I proceeded to attempt to reconnect the errant hose to its proper place without either falling forward into the engine compartment or giving myself third degree burns on each forearm.

I could just 'manage to get my hands on both the T-fitting and the bad boy hose, but I had no leverage to jam them together. In any event, I had to be careful that my efforts to reconnect one hose did not dislodge its partner in crime or disrupt any of a hundred other sensitive connections that could render four thousand pounds of roaring fury into a completely inert lump of useless metal.

After several minutes of this where passers by (the same crowd I had been hobnobbing with just minutes ago) saw only the butt of my jeans extending out from under the hood accompanied by lots of "fuck," "gawd damn it," and "shit that's hot," I eased myself out from under the hood, tried to regain an upright posture, looked down at my now grease covered forearms with a couple of red stripes branded into them and realized that I needed to go back to the party and attempt to beg a screwdriver and a pitcher of water off the host. Fuck.

Well, that's just what I did. It's amazing how fast the upper crust sea will part when confronted by a pair of black and bleeding arms. The host was very nice and immediately supplied me with a large pitcher of water and two different screw drivers. I went back to the car and repeated all of the previously described maneuvers only this time I was able to loosen the hose clamp before attempting to reinsert it over the T-fitting. It took several attempts before things again appeared secure. I then proceeded to fill the now empty coolant reservoir with regular tap water thereby disobeying generations of automotive mechanic's advice to only use the proper mixture of DISTILLED water and anti-freeze when topping off the coolant reservoir. Fuck that.

There were a couple of test engine starts to see if all held together and to get the fluids circulating again to see if more BAD water was required (it was and this time I took it straight from the outside hose). Finally, I trudged back to the mansion more grease stained and burned than before and before anyone could stop me, I made a bee-line for the kitchen sink and the dish soap which took care of the greasy part. Once somewhat clean, I went in search of the host to return the screw drivers. He was very gracious and insisted that I have another glass of wine to help me regain my composure. I can see why everyone likes to have him and his wife host events like these.

I then made my way gingerly home with one eye glued to the temperature gauge and the other on the road. The Whale made it without rupturing another artery and I let out a large sigh of relief when I was in my own garage and was able to turn the ignition off.

YoYo

2008-09-06T17:11:00.002-05:00

That's what I feel like - a yoyo. I am bouncing back and forth between our two homes and wishing desperately that we could reduce that number by one.

At the moment, I am at the southern manse where I collect the mail, pay the bills, mow the lawn, water the plants and then leave again for the school week up north.

Today involved a bit of recreation however. For many years, I have been going to a car and air show across the Minnesota/Wisconsin border in a little town called Osceola. There is a publisher up there that is the largest dealer of automotive books in the country and every year, they toss a party that pulls in thousands of cars, motorcycles, and a few strange contraptions that defy description.

This years show was the largest I think I have ever seen. There were so many cars that they had to park them in two overflow lots somewhat removed from the main display areas. I enter my car every year simply because it's easier to enter than to try and find a regular parking space. When my camera battery finishes charging, I'll post some of the photos that I took. It was too bad that I depleted the battery before I could get a picture of the Mustang station wagon that showed up just before I decided to leave.

This is the first year that I went to this show without my son. He is usually emphatic about attending, but this year he decided to go camping on the North Shore with one of his aunts. I got a phone call from him as I was wandering amongst the acres of wheeled iron. Sounds like he is having a good time getting spoiled.

Tomorrow I will once again point the car north after packing it full of boxes that will deposited at one of the storage lockers that I have become the proud master of (another thing that I would like to divest myself of).

So, no great happenings or blinding insights. Lots of road time though and a growing appreciation of books on CD that helps pass the time away. If anything more exciting than shopping for plumbing parts happens, you will be the first to know. Till then, BBFN.

She's Gone

2008-08-30T14:50:00.003-05:00

I remember packing for college and it involved dumping a few drawers from my dresser into an old foot locker that was my father's in WWII and throwing it in the back of the station wagon. My, how things have changed.

What you see above is a Surburban that I borrowed from my cousin in exchange for the Prius. It is packed to the max with what my daughter considers to be the "essential" items needed to begin college life. I don't know what the cubic footage of a Surburban is with all the seats down but for the front two, but it is more than my Audi wagon by a bit.

We carved out a little cave for the Wonder Dawg as you can see here. This was taken at a rest stop somewhere in Wisconsin. The girl looks happier than she felt at the time. I had gone in to do the basic reststop business and came back out to find one wistfull girl and one old dawg who was happy to have someone scratching her no matter what the reason.

The lead up to the move had been quite exhausting on all involved and it was no surprise to me that my daughter came down with a cold after burning her candle at both ends over the past few weeks as she attempted to pack up her life (not just for the college move, but also for the house sale) until the wick sputtered out and disappeared in a puff of smoke. She sniffled and sneezed all the way to Madison and was therefore not her best when it came time to move all of that gear into a room designed to accomodate two basic prisoners with a washcloth and a toothbrush between them.

As it turned out, we met her roomate in the parking lot of the dorm as we were starting to haul in the first bucket load of gear and the two of them got a chance to meet in the flesh after spending months talking to each other on facebook. The roomate had flown in a couple of days before and had moved most of her stuff into the room (not meaning that it was put away) before we even arrived.

While my daughter heroically muscled load after load into the dorm and up the elevator to the fifth floor, I stood guard over the SUV and the remaining gear and kept a cautious eye on the Wonder Dawg as she lay in the shade like a sensible person. After the last load was put in the big, wheeled cart, I put the dawg back into the truck, locked it up, and hoisted the two frame members for the futon couch that seems to be "de rigor" material for any incoming college freshman and followed my sherpa daughter into the bowels of her dormatory.

As you can see below, the room is not yet ready for Better Homes and Gardens.
That's her in the shadows under her trendy "lofted" bed. As you can see, I did a spectacular job of assembling the futon couch (hey, I'm an engineer) and after snapping this photo, I abandoned the field of fire, having declared victory, and retired to an air-conditioned pub under the excuse that I needed to take the dawg somewhere cooler (I parked in the shade). And that's where I stayed until it was time for one last dinner with my oldest.

I have to say that I never expected to be in this position. Long ago, I believed that I would be lucky to live long enough so that my children might be able to remember me at all. Seems that I was a bit premature - which is fine with me, but it causes me to re-evaluate my position on a frequent basis.

Anyway, my girl is now officially in college and now I have to pay the dues. I was about to write some stupid saying, but have decided that I will just end by expressing my profound thanks that we have all made it this far.

Moving Stress

2008-08-27T15:28:00.004-05:00

(Picture is of the boy in front of his "to be" bedroom window. In the background, you can see the house I grew up in.)

I am back in the Twin Cities after leaving my son in Duluth. He and his aunt drove up on Saturday with a packed pick-up truck as I followed behind in my pokey prius with the left overs. We set up in our temporary apartment in the same complex where my mother lives. After a brief argument over who got the bedroom and who got the fold out couch, we set up and got down to the business of feeling adrift and unanchored.

By Tuesday, when he started school, we had fallen into a semi comfortable routine similar to the odd couple of the play. I tend to retire to the bedroom early and he stays up until all hours conducting his electronic relationships.

His first day of school produced one grumpy teenager as everything was substandard to the school he had just left (the one that was soooooo boring just last spring). After dropping him off this morning (his second day), I headed south towards our other home where my daughter had been holding down the fort for four days trying to pack for her journey off to collage.

What I found when I arrived home was a house that looked like it had been ransacked on the lower level (teen territory), a dog who was very puzzled by all of the disruption in her schedule, and one very stressed out girl. She had amassed a pile of goods out in the garage that will accompany her to Madison that will exceed the capacity of the Audi, even if we can put the futon and bike up on the roof. I will have to take my cousin's offer of a suburban land barge and see if we can cram everything into that.

And, as if you need more, the girl informs me that she is getting sick. Oh yea. I get to spend five hours in a small enclosed space with a wildly contagious sicko after avoiding illness (well, mostly) for a long time now.

I will be glad when this is over. I have bad feelings about having to split my time and attention between the needs of both children. I feel like a bad parent for not being there for my son, but at the same time, I have to take care of things with my daughter as well. No one is to blame and no one is doing anything wrong, but the timing and the circumstances demand decisions that will short shift one child while supporting the other. The frustrations are very close to the surface and we need to be extra careful about being kind to one another. Tears are just below the surface.

Once the girl is ensconced in her dorm, I will leave and find a place to crash for the night. I don't think I can do a down and back trip of that distance in one day. I might also have the dog with me as we don't have any alternatives lined up at this time.

It will be interesting for sure. Hopefully, things will settle down a bit after this little flurry. I will still be doing the shuttle between cities and houses, but the ratio will change with me spending more time in Duluth and less down south. I am not sure what to do about the mail yet. I don't have a permanent address up north, but I don't plan on visiting the southern house more than once a week and I don't want the mail to stack up in the mailbox out by the road all week. Maybe I can get the construction crew to hang a box up on the outside of the northern house and make the official residense move to there.

Decisions, decisions, then more decisions. Who knew there were so many different kinds of toilets? Or shower controls? I am about ready to just turn it over to someone else and say "Pick out nice things - but inexpensive."

Arrrgh.

We're Baaaaaaaaack

2008-08-22T21:33:00.002-05:00

Actually, we've been back for a while, but this is the first real chance to sit down and write. As I do so, there is a party going on outside my door. Some of my son's friends organized a surprise going away party for him and as I took him out this afternoon on a shopping trip for his long promised cell phone and some other stuff, the friends gathered at our house and set up for the party.

He never suspected and the expression on his face as we walked through the door to a rousing chorus of "surprise" was a Kodak moment for sure. That was about five hours ago and things are still going strong.

So, a recap of what's been going on since the last update. We did the Blues Fest in Duluth and spent a week full of blues and family. There were dinners, poker, sun, ships, blues, more food, more blues, more beer, more blues. When it was all over, we bid adieu to Duluth and moved about 40 miles east and a little south to a cabin on the Brule River in Wisconsin for a week of relaxation, moving water, samores, fires in the fireplace, canoing on the river, rapids, picnics and lots of just kicking back and doing not much at all.

From there, it was home to face the music. We had a week to get my son packed up and moved back up to Duluth to start school and a few more days to get my daughter packed and moved to Madison for college. Right now, out house is a pile of boxes, bags, and piles of things that are not yet sorted and packed away.

Tomorrow, my SIL will drive down from Duluth in a pickup truck to help move the boy. Hopefully, we will be able to get the stuff he needs right away in one truck and my car for the move north. Since the house itself is not ready yet, we will be living in one or more alternative locations until we can move into the house. Our first temporary spot will be a guest apartment in the same complex my mother is living in so we will have lots of opportunity to spend time with her which will be good for all of us. After that, I hope we can move into the mother-in-law apartment in the lower level of our own house which is not seeing the level of remodeling as the rest of the house. We shall see if that works out.

After moving the boy, I will stay in Duluth for a day to take care of business up there before returning to the Cities and making ready for the move to Madison with the girl. The question there is whether we can get everything loaded into the Audi wagon (or on top). Yes, we have de-mothballed the White Whale for the Madison move. The Prius has been terrific so far, but we need the cargo capacity and the roof racks for the futon couch and the bicycle. Hopefully, we will be able to stuff everything else into the cargo bay. We will see.

Still no bites on the house sale. When all of the moving commotion settles down, I will have to schedule a meeting with my realtor and see if we can get things moving.

Last Thurday, I went down to the Mayo for my monthly checkup and to pick up a new supply of the study drug. Everything went smoothly and there were no surprises. I feel good and am glad that things continue to trend in a favorable direction.

In closing, I want to share a little of the tranquility I found on the river last week. I started every day with a cup of coffee down on the dock before others rose from their beds. There was usually no breeze to disturb the surface of the water. All was serene and quiet. The only sounds were the occasional blurp of a rising fingerling. On a couple of occasions, I was witness to a passing bald eagle flying up or down river. It was magical. The photo does not do it justice.

Da Fest

2008-08-10T10:52:00.002-05:00

It is once again Blues Fest time in Duluth. This annual event has turned into a time when our family gathers in a mini family reunion with all of the in laws and outlaws who can make it, showing up for a multi-day infusion of the blues in all of its various flavors. The crowd basks in the sun, drinking questionable beer, eating decidedly unhealthy treats (like hand dipped, deep fried cheese curds - actually quite yummy) as they watch the big ships drift by carrying the stuff that keeps our economy rolling.

Some even dance. Like this young lady below, though I think she could have found a feistier partner.

From here, we will travel a few miles east into the heart of northern Wisconsin to one of the premier trout streams in America - the Brule River. There we will spend a week at the cabin of an old friend and relax before returning home for the big packing push that will see both kids out the door and onto their respective educational paths for the next year.

I'll try to post from the cabin, but that will mean a trip into town in search of a WIFI connection. See you later.

Stitches Out and Hitting the Road

2008-08-05T20:31:00.002-05:00

I finally got my stitches taken out from my thumb surgery last Monday. What a relief. Now, I can wash my hair without little pokey things sticking me in the scalp.

We are shortly off for a little vacation up north. It's time for the annual Blues Fest down by the Bay and the family reunion that accompanies it. It is a time for sitting in the sun, drinking questionable beer, and listening to the blues as the big ships drift by out in the channel. Four days of music and nuttin much else.

It is a time when those of my family who are able to make it back to the old home place do so and we all wind up camping in some kind of lawn chair circle while the music plays on. I can't remember when this informal reunion started, but it's been going on now for some time.

My son is already up there - spending time with cousins - both local and from out of town. My daughter and I leave tomorrow to do the same. It will be a while before we return and internet access will be spotty. I'll try to upgrade as I can.

After the Blues Fest, we head to a cabin on a river in the adjacent state for a week of relaxing. It is a time of listening to the wind whispering through the tops of tall pines, of crackling fires, of sitting on the dock watching the world flow by, and some walks of solitude, remembering those who have gone before.

This will be the last bit of quiet and peace that I will enjoy for some time. When our week on the river ends, it will be back to chaos as I try to figure out how to move two siblings in opposite directions at approximately the same time. Bear in mind that neither one has done a bit of serious packing as of yet. This will not be pretty.

So, if you see me, or talk to me on the phone and I seem a bit distracted, or agitated, or maybe even homicidal, it's just the time we are going through and I'll be better - maybe sometime in October.

On the Road in Madison

2008-07-30T09:39:00.002-05:00

We (daughter and I) are in Madison, WI for her university orientation. Last night was spent in a bare-bones dorm room (she in the female wing with a roommate and I in the male wing solo so far). I am sure that my original dorm room was not too different from this one, but in those days it seemed larger. It has been a while since I slept in a bed that narrow and had to trundle down the hall for my nocturnal visits to the bathroom.

So far today, we managed to meet for breakfast in the dorm dining room before I dropped the girl off for a morning full of placement tests. My "todo" list was pretty short. Buy a two-day parking pass, buy a newspaper, find a coffee shop with WIFI and read paper. It's 9:45 in the morning and I have already exhausted my chore list. I don't expect to hear from Kate until sometime after noon so I have a lot of time on my hands and it's too early to hit the brewpubs.

Check back later and I'll let you know what exciting things transpired.

Ciao fer niow.

It's a Go, Again

2008-07-25T09:44:00.002-05:00

Well, somebody's magic wand worked.

My blood counts, specifically certain white blood cells, have been in the dumper for about two months now, preventing me from continuing with the Mayo study drug. In fact they were so low that I received special booster shots that came right from some underground secret bunker and were flown by special stealth aircraft right to my clinic where they were administered (painfully) for three days in a row. These things were guaranteed to put hair on your chest, increase your genital size (neither particularly attractive items if you are female), and scare the bejezus out of your bone marrow, thereby supercharging the production of the missing white blood cells.

Well guess what? Didn't work. In fact, the critical cells dropped in population. WTF? Am I an alien? I get these expensive secret shots and my skimpy neutrophils take a dive? What gives? I certainly have no clue.

As a result, my oncologist at the Mayo says she wants me to come down for another bone marrow biopsy. Her theory is that I am not making WBC's because my bone marrow is either A) totally infected with cancer, or B) dead. Neither of these scenarios sounded particularly appealing to me, so without telling her, I preferred to believe there was a series of options starting with C and running on for some time that would have all sorts of other possibilities described like, "subject proves to be a mutant with unpredictable healing powers" and going on along those lines.

So anyway, my son and I dutifully head south to the Mayo last week for said procedure. We leave early and arrive on time for the mandatory blood punch. No matter where you go for whatever procedure, they insist on stabbing you in the arm. This was no exception and I waited along with about 100 other cattle for my number to be called, my elbow punched, the obligatory test tube of blood to be drawn, and the "gauze" tourniquet to be applied that would make it impossible for me to bend my arm until its removal in some conspicuous public arena where it could be discarded in plain site of hundreds of people, thereby giving rise to suspicions of possible plague or TB threats.

From there we hustled up to our biopsy appointment where I made the mistake of congratulating myself on getting a 10AM appointment that meant we might be back home before the evening rush hour traffic hit and I could still make a little of this day. Big mistake. Oh, it was my fault entirely. By now I should know better. I was just feeling so good that I spoke honestly when a little bending of the truth could have saved so much more time.

It was at the check-in desk that I made my fatal error. When asked if I had eaten anything the red alarm bells should have gone off, but no - my serendipitous mood compelled my mouth to speak before my higher functions could kick in and I said, "Well, I had a piece of toast about 7 AM." "Anything on it?" she asked? "Just a little olive oil," I replied. "I'll be right back, please have a seat," she said.

It still had not sunk in that I had made a terrible blunder. I sauntered over to the seats where my son had already extracted my laptop from its case and was busy booting it up. I was thinking of all of the nice drugs I was going to be receiving in very short order when I heard my name called from the desk. Oh-oh, these things are never a good sign.

Upon returning to the desk, the nice nurse informed me that with sedated procedures (like what I was going to have), no food or drink could pass my lips for six hours prior to the procedure. Therefore, they would have to move my appointment back to 2 PM - was that OK?

Hmmm, lets see. We got up at the butt-crack of dawn and drove two hours so I could do this thing and get back home at a reasonable hour. Now, everything gets pushed back by four hours and my kid and I are like homeless people until then. Of course all of the other options were worse so I said OK and we left.

On any other occasion, I would have taken my boy to the place with the best burgers in town, but the no food/no drink kind of put the kibosh on that. In the end, we found a local newspaper, checked out the local movies, and went to see the new Batman flick at some suburban mall. Luckily, our new car has a nav system that lead us right to the place. All in all, it was a fine way to spend the time except for that it ran a little longer than expected and I arrived back at the Mayo about 45 minutes late.

I have to say that they were good sports about it all and still let me get holes drilled into my pelvis with juice and core samples taken. And they even let me have the sedation as promised so that I don't recall a bit of it, but awoke bright and chipper afterwards, and after promising that I would let my son drive home, they sprung me loose.

The drive home went fine. My son is proving to be a good driver, having only given me one heart attack moment when he slightly misjudged his closing speed on a stopped car in front of us.

However the next day started with a weird phone call. I was still reading the paper on the screen porch when the phone rang. It was the Mayo saying that my blood test results were a little unexpected and "could I please get another blood test today?" Unexpected in what way, I asked. Well, she replied, the cells in question seem to have made a rally outside the bounds of expected behavior. Well then, I said, you must have mixed me up with someone else, but sure, I'll get another test done up here today and have the results faxed down to you.

Hmmm, I thought. Very strange. Now a problem was laid in front of me. Do I go back to the local clinic that has been doing all of these tests, or should I find a new place?

I don't think I have written of this, but back when I first started this Mayo study and learned that I would have to have blood tests done on a frequent basis, I looked around for a clinic that was close to my house where I could have this done and that participated in my insurance plan.

Thanks to the marvels of the internet, I was able to go to my insurance providers website and search for clinics associated with that provider that were close to my zipcode. There were a number that showed up, but a phone call to the nearest gave me all I needed. They would do the blood draws, send them to a lab, and fax the results to the Mayo - no problem.

OK, I thought and scheduled my first appointment. But when I walked through the door of the clinic for the first time, I began to have misgivings. There were pictures of the Pope and the Virgin Mary all over the walls. There was Christian soft rock on the sound system. There were a lot of children and mothers around. I have to say that everyone was very nice in a Stepford wife kind of way. Nobody said or did anything that was unusual or out of the ordinary, but I was totally creeped out every time I went there.

You need to understand my frame of mind at this point. First, I was feeling pretty good physically. True, I was having night sweats, but they varied in intensity and lately they were on the light side. And, the low-grade fevers had disappeared as far as I could tell. During the day, I felt pretty damned good, which didn't quite jibe with the dead bone-marrow scenario. So, my conspiracy theory persona kicked in and asked theoretically whether the Uber-Catholic clinic might be "off" when it came time to reporting my blood test results.

Now, let's take a reality check here. First, I am not a conspiracy fanatic. I don't see plots behind every bush (except for the Wellstone plane crash). Second, I don't know how simple blood tests are done now, but when I was first studying these things, people did them while looking at slides under a microscope with a clicker-counter in one hand as they identified cells in their viewfinder. I suppose now it is all automated, but in the end, errors can be made.

The problem was that my counts were so low for so long (all done by the same clinic/lab) and then there is this miraculous leap in numbers seen first at the Mayo and repeated again by the new clinic that redid the blood test as asked - so where do I go with this? To a happy place I guess.

Whether there is a conspiracy or not, I now have the go ahead to restart the Mayo study drug. I hope that in doing so, I can lay off on the last of the night sweats. They are such a pain. We shall see.

In any event, I am in better shape now than a few weeks ago (according to the tests), so that is worth celebrating (on a minor scale at least). So, have a good weekend. I'll let you know more as it comes in to me.

Ciao.

Routines

2008-07-20T09:55:00.002-05:00

It's Sunday morning around here. The larvae are still sleeping. The Dawg and I have gone through most of our morning routines which prompted me to think some about that.

These days, routines take on more importance to me. I suppose that they provide the structure that I wrap my time around. In the old days, when I worked, routines were forced upon me. Now my life is much more free form, so I get to choose my own little practices (well, sometimes I get to choose).

In writing of these things, the first problem is where to begin. Does a day begin the first second after midnight or when you get up. This is an important distinction for me because there are a couple of routines that I must deal with that occur in those dark and silent hours when most are asleep and dreaming.

I wake up at least twice between midnight and six in the morning. On at least one of those occasions, I get up and peel off the soaking T-shirt that clings to my sweaty body and lay it over the edge of the bathtub before sitting down and giving my bladder a well deserved emptying. I sit because its dark and I don't have to aim and its easier than standing when in a partial wake mode. As I sit there I feel my body cool as the sweat slowly evaporates. Then it is up and into the closet for a dry T-shirt and then back to bed - trying to avoid the wet, sweaty patches.

When I can finally persuade myself to rise for the day there is a similar trip to the bathroom where another shirt is left on the alter of night-sweats and a fresh one donned along with a pair of raggity sweat shorts before exiting the bedroom and performing another morning routine - shutting off the lights that illuminate the stairs going down to the lower level.

Then it's into the kitchen, open the patio doors, hang up the hummingbird feeder that was brought in the night before to keep it from being emptied by raccoons, then fill the tea kettle with water and put it on the burner to heat before heading to the laundry room to greet the old Dawg.

Dawg and I have our morning routine down pat. I open the door, she slowly rises, stretches, shakes herself a bit to send the last shards of sleep flying, comes over for an ear scratch, and then starts prancing excitedly for me to open the door and let her out into the day. As I go through this routine every morning, I have my own internal litany that I go through. I silently thank the universe that I have the opportunity to spend one more day with this smelly, grizzled, gassious creature that seems to be my personal, hairy, itchy guardian angel.

Then it is out the door to explore the morning as we make the walk down the drive. Me to retrieve the morning paper. Her to chase whatever form of wildlife might be visible, smell all of the interesting things that only dawgs can smell, and to at some point do her morning pee (and sometimes poop, but usually that comes later).

Having gotten the paper, I slowly walk back to the house swatting at the deer flies that buzz bomb my head at this time of year. The dawg runs around on her own routines, meeting me at the back door knowing that breakfast awaits just on the other side. She and I then go through that routine which never varies. I put two scoops of dried dawg food into her bowl, run a little water over it and set it down. I then pick up her water bowl and dump it out and then refill it. She always stops eating and backs away a little as I set the water bowl down next to the food bowl. There is some kind of dawgy etiquette going on there, but I don't know what it is.

While she eats, I grab the paper and continue with my routine of coffee making. The paper goes down on the kitchen table as I walk over to the corner of the counter where the little appliance garage is. I extract the coffee grinder and the plastic tub of beans. I measure out six scoops of beans (down from eight - trying to find the sweet spot of coffee production - enough but not too much) into the grinder, plug it in and turn it on.

While it noisily goes about its business, I gather up yesterdays coffee and filter from the Melita on the counter, throw it away in the kitchen garbage (should I compost it?), and prepare a new filter for the Melita cone.

By then, the grinder is done and the ground beans go into the new filter and the cone goes on top of the glass carafe. The water is boiling by now and it is slowly poured over the coffee in a sequence of about four pours. While each pour is draining through the grounds, I prepare the thermos and find a mug for myself. When the last of the boiling water has been poured and drained, the mug is filled and the remainder poured into the thermos.

Then with mug in hand, I grab the paper and walk out onto the screen porch to one of the rockers, coffee on the side table, feet up on the cushioned stool and I begin to read.

That first mug of coffee usually sees me through the first section of the paper. The second mug gets me up off my duff and if it is a week day, down to the computer in my office to download the financial's from the day before and to make sure any bills that are due are covered. If it is a Sunday or Monday, there is no financial data to download, so I may check emails or like today, compose a post. Then it is back upstairs for a little more paper reading before preparing my breakfast in my routine fashion (of course).

If you have stuck around this far, I can only assume that you either have no life of your own and are living vicariously through me, or you hope in vain that I will actually write something clever and justify the amazing amount of time you have spent reading this entry, or you are genuinely curious about what I eat for breakfast every day. Well, here you go.

I cut a slice of homemade bread a little less than an inch thick. I place it in the toaster and while it is toasting I pour a large glass of orange juice, collect my morning ration of pills from the little dispenser on the counter and carry the pills and juice out to the table on the screen porch. Then it is back inside for a small plate which is laid in wait on the counter next to the toaster in preparation for the exiting moment the toaster pops its treasure up.

Before that happens though, there are more routine steps to go through. There is the wooden tweezers to get from the utensil jar on the counter (for grabbing the hot toast from the toaster), the teaspoon to get from the silverware drawer and the olive oil to retrieve from the liquids cupboard just above the toaster. When all is laid out in its proper place, the toaster pops, the tweezers tweeze, the olive oil is poured into the teaspoon with a little slop over, and the teaspoon distributes the oil over the piece of toast. Then a quick clean up (oil into the cupboard, spoon into the dishwasher) before carrying the toast out to the table where it is consumed with relesh while reading the remains of the paper with the routine wrapped up by the downing of the pills assisted by the orange juice.

There you have my morning routine. It varies little with the seasons. When it is inclement or too cold to be on the screen porch, the kitchen table serves as an alternative location. Sometimes I am out of orange juice and have to drink plain water, but all in all, that is how I start my day.

At some point, usually as I am ready to take my first sip of coffee, Dawg comes up to me and nudges my arm with her nose signaling a need to go out. Our summer routine on this has me letting her out the laundry room door and then returning to my seat on the porch. When she is ready to come back in, she comes around to the back of the house and up on the deck outside the door to the porch where she will wait for me to let her in. In the winter, I simply wait at the laundry room door as her excursions are shorter and I am not going to be sitting out on the screen porch in my skivvies to let her in.

All of these things will change of course in the relatively near future as we relocate to our new home up north. Dawg and I will have to redefine our procedures for her toiletry needs. Our new yard will be much smaller and more public. There are actually dawg katchers up there who will snatch up dawgs not on a leash. So the days of letting her out the door and not worrying will be over.

We will figure things out though. New routines will be established that we can all count on and measure our time by. If you hang in there, I will let you know what they are.

Life is Too Short

2008-07-16T23:47:00.003-05:00

Life is too short for some things. For example, I hate my toothpaste. Why should one have to subject ones self to an unpleasant situation twice everyday? I have enough to be depressed about without having to dread brushing my teeth.

That's what I mean. Life is too short for this shit.

So why am I dealing with it every day? That is the big question.

Background - I needed to buy some toothpaste to replace the tube that the nazi security guards confiscated on my way back from Mexico. I know, I could have avoided it by buying some small tube of whatever, but I spaced it and the vigilant guard was rewarded after taking apart my luggage with a tube of organic toothpaste, which he pitched.

So, upon returning home, I went shopping for a replacement and bought a tube of organic toothpaste from a known national brand, but did not look at, or did not register the flavor. It was not until the next day that I discovered that I had bought a year's worth of horrid flavor that I would have to subject myself to every morning and every night.

How many of you chew fennel for fun? Bueller? Anyone? Anyone?

Just as I thought. No one in their right mind would buy anything that tasted of fennel. Would they? No.

So now I have this tube of hateful toothpaste and I can't seem to get rid of it. Oh, it would be simple enough to buy a different tube of toothpaste at the natural food store. I know that, but it hasn't happened so far. Why not? I hate this stuff. What is keeping me from just buying a new tube of toothpaste? What is my problem?

Do you see my dilemma? This is a simple problem to fix, but I seem to be incapable of doing so. Am I caught in some kind of Greek drama, doomed to live out a scenario that is obvious to the actors, but unchangeable?

You tell me. I don't know.

What I do know is that if you don't like your toothpaste, change it.

P.

*******************

Postscript: Another thing I know. Don't blog after taking pain medication. He he he.

Gimps

2008-07-16T15:22:00.002-05:00

My daughter is in a leg imobilizer and popping pain pills like tick-taks and I have a left hand that is still partially numb and wrapped up in a soft elastic bandage. My son is being called upon to wait upon our needs which should produce sufficient material for at least a couple of posts.

The girl's surgery went well according to the surgeon and she is able to hobble around on it, but is still confined mostly to her bed. My surgery also went well (I think). I even got to see the work they did before they sewed me up (way cool). But, as I say, the paw is still mostly numb so I am reduced to doing minor wiggles that I can't really feel.

On the matter of my blood counts, my Mayo doc wants me to come down for another bone-marrow biopsy to see if they can determine why I am not regenerating my neutrophils. So I will do that early next week. Fortunately, I now have a chauffeur who is more than happy to assist me with my transportation needs.

That's all I know for now. More later.

Still Waiting

2008-07-13T15:03:00.002-05:00

I was hoping to be able to give you all a definitive report on my health status and treatment program but it was not to be (for now anyway).

I had a blood draw done on Thursday morning in plenty of time for it to be sent out to the lab and the results faxed down to the Mayo. On Friday morning I called the study administrator at the Mayo with that information and asking her to call me as soon as she got the fax. That was a voice mail transaction.

Later, I called the clinic where the blood was drawn and spoke to the receptionist (always an opportunity for the ball to be dropped) and asked if the results had come back and had been faxed to the Mayo. She said she would get a message to the doctor and have them get back to me (another bad sign - I haven't seen the doctor since my initial visit). Later still, I got a phone call from someone at the clinic who said she had "misread" the message and that she had faxed my previous results to the Mayo. No word on whether my new test results were in.

I recalled the study associate at the Mayo and got VM. Repeated a couple of hours later - same result.

Long and short is that I did not hear from the Mayo by 5 PM which means that I would hear nothing more (or at all) until Monday at the earliest.

So, I am still not taking the experimental drug. I am still going through night sweats, but the low grade fevers seem to have backed off. Maybe the white blood cell boosters have worked. I don't know.

So we did what we had to do this weekend. We packed the Dawg off to the neighbors, packed ourselves up Saturday morning and drove up to a friend's cabin near Moose Lake for a reunion of the group who went down to Mexico for spring break a few months ago. My assignment was appetizers and Mango Martinis. I am happy to say that cudos were given for both.

The Mangotinis were so popular that we had burned though the bottle of vodka by 9:30 last night and I retired shortly after that.

This morning, my daughter drove us into Moose Lake and abandoned us at Art's Cafe as she beat a hasty retreat to the Twin Cities to renew her acquaintance with her boyfriend while my son and I waited for our new car connection to meet us at the cafe.

Fortunately we were able to get a breakfast order in before the car guy, his wife and son walked through the door. While we were waiting for the food to arrive, we concluded the transaction for the car and when we walked out full of eggs and hash browns, we had a brand new (used) Prius waiting for us.

Took us a few minutes to figure out how to make it go, but since then it's been 50 mph as we trundled on down the road. Now I'm sitting in my favorite local brew house, nursing a pretty fair IPA and writing up this post. Tomorrow, I'll meet with the builder, feed the money monster, and see if I can get my kid enrolled in a school here.

There it is. I'll let you know whenever I hear from those slugs at the Mayo.

The Fifth

2008-07-05T17:16:00.002-05:00

I'm not taking it. It is it. You know, like The Fourth, only a day later.

Nothing dramatic to report. The boy and I got back on Thursday and I almost made it to my medical appointment on time. I learned there that I have mild carpal tunnel issues in my left wrist which should be "watched" for the time being. My thumb on the same hand (NPI) needs a little loving scalpel attention. He said that I could waltz in and after a little local anesthetic, zip, snip, and out I go with no more trigger thumb. I think I'll sign up for that.

On the FOURTH, my son and I went on the annual Watermelon ride. We wimped out and settled for the 15 mile route which kept us mostly on trails in the area. It was a beautiful day for an activity like that. By noon, we were home.

After that, the boy went off with his aunt and I just lay around all day occasionally taking a tylenol for the low-grade fevers that continue to haunt. Bout six, I headed over to the old neighborhood for a low-key BBQ followed by a pontoon boat ride out on the lake as the local shoreline residents attempted to outdo each other with their fireworks displays. Since when have private individuals start providing entertainment like this which could give some small communities a run for their money.

It was pretty nice. Old friends, good food, free entertainment. Even so, I was ready to head home when it was over to my empty house and my smelly dawg.

Now, it's the FIFTH and things are quieter again.

Up Nort

2008-07-02T17:28:00.002-05:00

Two gorgeous days in a row. It's enough to spoil a guy.

My son and I drove up yesterday after getting off to a slow start. You would think that with a slow start, I would have had plenty of time to make sure I packed everything that I needed into the car. The last time I drove north, I forgot to pack my meds. This time I almost left without the dog food, dishes, leash, etc. I was reminded of that at the last moment by my co-pilot who was still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Why he didn't tell me about my toilet kit, I don't know.

So, here I am with a brand new toothbrush, toothpaste, contact case, contact solutions, but no glasses which means that once I take my eyes out, I am totally dysfunctional.

Work proceeds on the house. I am starting to see some exterior framing going on which will slowly define the expansion on the lake side of the house. Late this afternoon another cement truck pulled up and the floor/ceiling of the garage expansion was getting poured. I hope that I can catch a couple of snaps later today to upload to the web album.

For those of you who are keeping score, my latest blood draw did not clear the hurdle. In fact, the neutriphil count lost some ground. This resulted in a flurry of phone calls between the Mayo and my pocket (fone home). I am now set up to receive a series of WBC stimulus shots starting next Monday. These are the same little shots that I used to give to C when her counts dipped too low. They come in little tiny syringes with real big price tags. And (bonus), they hurt a lot.

Hopefully, they will do the trick and jump start my WBC factory so that I can get back on the study drug. We shall see.

We head back south first thing tomorrow morning. I have to meet with the hand surgeon early in the afternoon. I am interested in what he/she will have to say.

That's all for now.

Nite Blahs

2008-06-27T15:38:00.002-05:00

Well, the girl is off on her big 10 day trip to North Carolina for a national conference on national affairs, followed up by a visit to Gettysburg and then NYC. Travel is all on a large coach that drives straight through with alternating drivers. She got herself all packed and organized IN TIME and without any parental prodding or assistance. Good for her.

Now it will just be us guys (sorry Sophie) batching it for a while.

Usually I prefer to have tales of our various family affairs to bore you with, but sometimes these pesky medical issues get in the way. This is one of those times.

I have been taken off of the experimental cancer drug due to low blood counts and hoped that yesterday's blood draw would show enough improvement to start up again. I continue to head in the right direction, but the counts are just barely too low to restart. So, I will have another sample drawn Monday or Tuesday and the results faxed down to the Mayo.

I am getting increasingly anxious about this because I am experiencing nightly bouts of night sweats and as of yesterday, low-grade fevers. This makes for a long and uncomfortable night.

I have also weened myself off of the sleep aides that I have been taking for the past two years. I was uncertain whether there were any long-term issues and decided to see if I could do without. I can, but it is a rocky path at the moment.

So, the past few nights have been marathon sessions of damp, twisted sheets, fever induced hallucinatory dreams, and frequent trips to the bathroom to empty an aging bladder. What a deal. I seem to be falling apart all at once, which from a design standpoint is not all bad. I struggle however in the acceptance of the process no matter how elegant it appears from a lofty, disengaged perspective.

Anyway, if I seem cranky to you, it's just due to lack of sleep, bad selections in Netflix movies (although I watched "Lars and the Reel Girl" last night and it was very touching), and sheer terror that I might have to finally face my mortality at last.

Bonehead

2008-06-23T22:26:00.002-05:00

Sometimes you just think that you would be smarter by now. All of these years of mistakes and learning from those mistakes should add up to something, don't you think. I think so, but then, I don't seem to be a good example of that.

Tonight, I had both of my children sitting down for a family dinner for the first time in weeks. The evening was beautiful. We ate out on the screen porch and the neighbor did not decide to mow his lawn with the world's loudest riding mower. The burgers were good and the beans unusual. Pretty much perfect.

Until my daughter and I started in on one of our sarcastic banters, which started fine but before I knew it had swerved over into a mess of quicksand and emotional razor wire. This resulted in my daughter stomping out of the house and my son informing me that she was going to come back and kill me in my sleep. What a comforting thought.

Then, later, I decided to watch a netflix movie I had rented based upon its academy award nominating acting not really sure of the subject matter. The movie, "Away From Her" was a beautifully shot and acted story of what Alzheimer's can do to a relationship. A real pick-me-up. Sometime in the middle of that, my son came up and insisted that this was the right time to get him a cell phone. That didn't go very well either.

So now, here I sit, having pissed off both of my children and feeling emotionally drained by a film that would make Rachael Ray slit her wrists on camera it was so sad.

On the positive side of things though, I managed to mow the lawn without severing any vital utility. The house did not burn down even though I forgot to turn off the grill when the burgers were done. And the phone company guys came and buried the phone line without tearing up the septic system (or at least they didn't tell me if they did). Plus it was a gorgeous day with humming birds sipping at both feeders.

So I guess you have to take a balanced approach to these things. I already hugged my son and told him that I was happy he was home and I will do the same to my daughter if she comes home before I lose consciousness.

On the health front, I am still off of the study drug. My neutrophil counts are still too low to start up again. I will have another blood draw done later this week to see if they have improved further.

Ta.

Serious Stuff

2008-06-17T15:51:00.003-05:00

OK, a little bit of serious talk after all the zaniness of the past few weeks. This is, after all, a document of what our life as a family is like with a cancer in our midst. I sometimes hesitate to talk much about it, preferring to relate the more light hearted aspects of our days and usually I have ample material to work with.

But this is also a chronicle of our journey, and with that in mind I need to bring you up to date with some of the physical things that affect how I feel.

Most of you know that I have Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. I was diagnosed fourteen years ago as of last Sunday. Fourteen years ago, I had a child who was four and another who was one. I did not know how much time I had to be with them and their mother who was my rock. I often wondered if they would remember me at all.

Those were hard times for my wife and I. So much was unknown. So much fear of what we could not see. Looking back now, things took a much stranger turn than we could have ever envisioned.

Now, I am the sole parent and provider for these two children who are eighteen and fifteen respectively. This fact makes my future stand out even more so, or so it seems to me.

As many of you know that I have NHL, you will also know that over the past fourteen years I have tried and exhausted the benefits of all but the most horrific treatments for my particular disease. It was with that in mind that I visited the Mayo Clinic last winter and was accepted into a phase II study for a drug called RAD001. I have been taking that drug every day up until last Thursday when I made my monthly visit to the Mayo for a routine checkup.

The results of my blood workup on that day showed that the vital measurements of my blood were now too low to continue the study. I will have another blood draw done this Thursday to see if they have come up after a week without the drug. If they have, I will continue the study at half dose until my counts come up further.

This in itself is not all that worrying. Other signs are more ominous. I am experiencing night sweats again. This is a classic symptom of NHL. It is symptomatic for a lot of other things too, but for me, they have always been a sign that the lymphoma is once again on the move. This alone is not a confirmation of that however, so I try to put my fears back in the box until we do another CT scan. It's a tough genie to try to stuff back into the bottle however and dealing with fears such as this goes right to the core of living with cancer. You must do everything you can to resist the relentless pull of the disease, to not give up, to keep searching for the positive, to celebrate the living.

I am not always successful, but I try.

I can't remember if I have written much about this next bit of physical decrepitude (I seem to be falling apart all at once), but I have been suffering from a pinched nerve in my neck that has been giving me symptoms that mostly affect my left arm and hand. This is a re-occurrence of a problem that first reared its head back in 2000. At that time I had an MRI of the neck and an electrical analysis of the nerves and muscles of my left arm and hand (the Saigon Torture Test).
The results showed a pinched nerve in my neck that services the left arm and hand, but no damage to either nerves or muscles. Physical therapy was proscribed and that successfully treated the condition until last fall.

At that time, I started getting the same symptoms as before, tingling and numbness of the arm and hand. We tried PT again, but it did not relieve the symptoms. Over time they got worse until I was having pain and weakness in my left hand - specifically the middle finger and thumb. This is not an insignificant problem because I am left-handed. This is made a little weirder by the condition of "trigger-finger" that is affecting my thumb.

I finally went to the doctor about it. We had discussed the problem before, but had to revisit it in light of the new, more severe symptoms. I was scheduled for another MRI and STT (or EMR in polite medical terms). I have now had both, and while I have not seen the official write up of the EMR, the doctor who was doing the torture said that it looked like carpal tunnel to him rather than a problem caused by the pinched nerve in the neck. This was good news because the surgical option for carpal tunnel is a whole lot easier than the one for a nerve problem in the neck.

So, the next thing I have to do with the hand issue is meet with a hand surgeon specialist and get his or her take on my situation. It could be that there will be two of us trying to recover from surgery this summer in this house. Oh joy.

So there you have it. A brief medical update. I'll let you know if the situation changes and you can ride alone in the co-pilot's seat.