March 31, 2014 (Mon) – “If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun.”

Katherine HepburnSpoiler alert: This blog will not be about cancer. You know, ya gotta take a break now and then from that topic. And since there really is no significant change in my diagnosis/treatment/bodily functions…oops. Sorry, TMI. But in any case, status quo is a good thing and we’ll leave any further updates for another day.

Many of you might be familiar with this saying from Katherine Hepburn. You can look at this a whole lotta different ways. We shall discuss alternative interpretations of this phrase later in the body of this discourse. OK, even I have to gag at that last sentence. Sometimes my fingers fall prey to college writing essay style where you just throw in stuff that sounds intelligent. But you and I know that my blog style rarely includes words with more than three syllables.

Squirrel!

All right, I admit. I’m a major rule follower. Unless of course, as you know, you include the 4 years I spent in Isla Vista. So we wiPlaying safell leave those out of this equation for now. As a goody three-shoes in high school, I never cut class, had a crew cut for sports, never drank, and always wore regulation clothing. This was back in ’66-’70 after all. Jeans and shorts not allowed, believe it or not. Long hair that slightly covered your ears, or one sip of beer, was enough to get you cut from the football team. Enough with the dress and behavior code though.

And I’ve always been a planner. Back in the day (eek, that really makes me sound old), my glove compartment was jammed with all sorts of fold-up maps. Yes, maps. You remember those, right? Right? 40 years before GPS. Had to know exactly where I was going. At all times. Heaven forbid I might make one wrong turn. Plus no way I was going to stop and ask for directions. I am a guy after all.

And cheat on a tests? Oops, forgot we were leaving out college years. Let’s skip that one. And it may be difficult for many of my friends, coworkers and fellow Rotarians to believe, but I was, and still am to a degree, a pretty shy guy. I know, I can hear some of you saying “yeah, right.” And the pictures below would seem to attest and support that disbelief. But bear with me.

This journey for the past year has taught me to live one day at a time. Of course, that is not news since that is how I’ve signed off 72 prior posts. But I’ve also learned to be less concerned about about what people might think as enjoying life and having fun have taken even a higher priority than BCD (before cancer diagnosis). So the rules I’m talking about breaking are not the legal ones that will get you into hot water with the Gendarmes. I’m talking about behavior rules that might limit your enjoyment of life. Be silly, be crazy (or crazier), do the unexpected, be unafraid to step outside your comfort zone. What’s gonna happen? Someone might laugh? Wonderful. That is the ultimate goal. Trust me, my previous comfort zone would CAB Collage1not have supported my endeavors as evidenced in these pictures.

OK, I am cheating slightly in that most of these were taken long before the life altering news a year ago. So I learned to be a little off-the-wall earlier on. Much of my efforts and dress-up, as many of you know, were in the course of working with kids with cancer. And making them laugh is exactly the goal. Yet the elf/jester outfit (in the upper right corner of the pic and courtesy of the Old Globe) is worn every year at our Rotary holiday luncheon, in front of 300 of the most influential and high level business people in town. So what? They love it, the seniors invited by our club each year love it, and what the hell, I love it. Have fun, allow other people to laugh and have a good time, and make a memory. Life would be awfully boring if you didn’t step outside your box now and then. Oh, BTW, I have probably 3x more pictures that are not in this collage. Most involve wearing a dress. Don’t ask. I think it has to do with being as out-there as possible. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Forgive the sales pitch, but I will include a quick reminder each blog until May 4th about the T-shirtupcoming Breath of Hope Walk that I am participating in. If you can make it, I’d love to have you join “Team Craig – Get Fuzzy” on what is a very casual 5K stroll down near the bay. If you can’t make it, I’d appreciate your assistance at any level to support our team, lung cancer awareness and the Moores Cancer Center at UCSD. Some of you have already joined the cause – thank you! But I know lots more of you can and will support this effort – why not just click now? Let’s put some peer pressure on the other teams to meet our challenge early on. Thanks!

Business as usual. Day at a time.

March 19, 2014 (Wed) – “Mr. Clean, Mr. Clean, Mr. Clean,…ding..ding..ding”

Mr. CleanYou’d really have to be a geezer to remember, or recognize, this guy. Yet my 23 year old son just informed me that he has seen this guy’s image a lot. Hmmm.  But the title above refers to the 1958 commercial (click here) and jingle that came with it. So why am I into a bald headed, buff guy? OK, let’s not go down that path you were just headed. I get it. But I am not planning on duplicating his chrome dome anytime soon. However, his guns I wouldn’t mind.

Am I professing to be of clean character? As you know from prior posts and confessions, it depends what timeframe you are looking at. So that really is not it. Clean soul? Not really for me to answer. Is our house clean? Damn straight, although I doubt if Kim or our twice-a-month housekeeper uses this product.

All right, I can’t stall any longer. For one reason, it’s big news. And for another, it’s 9:30pm and I want to finish this blog before I crash.

I just received the results of my brain MRI scan that I had Monday. In the complicated vernacular of doctor-speak, what I was told was “everything looks great.” Took a minute (OK, a nano second) for the news to register. With the flare up of my hip and sacrum in late November, I’ve been just a tad anxious since Monday morning when they magnetized me. Well, looks like upstairs Fuzzy is beat, or in full retreat. Guess I can write rhyming poems as well as blogs. What talent.

No further scans/tests scheduled at this time. I meet with my onc-doc at the end of this month. Perhaps he will determine that I have stopped glowing enough from my hip radiation at the end of December to warrant another fill-the-body-with-radioactive-sugar-juice PET scan. We shall see, but right now I am off the hook with nothing on the horizon. And I really like that word: Nothing. Reminds me of NED. And NED’s my friend.

OK, now that you are in a good mood, time to step up to the plate. And you thought this blog was free. :)

On Sunday, May 4th, I am participating in the San Diego Breath of Hope Walk. This walk helps bring more attention to lung cancer T-shirtresearch and at the same time benefits the UCSD Moores Cancer Center. I am forming a team that will blow the rest of the groups out of the water. My goal is 100 team walkers and at least $5K in funds raised. We can do it! So if you are a local San Diegan, I’d love to have you join our team (and sign up a bunch of your friends) and/or make a donation. If you can’t make it, I’d love to have you support our effort with a coupla (OK, more than a coupla) bucks. Don’t ask, you don’t get. :) I have now 72 blog posts during this 1+ year journey. A buck a post? $.50/post? Whatever works. So here is the link to join our team and/or support us: “Team Craig – Get Fuzzy“. Thank you! I will return this broadcast to its regular scheduled channel and promise not to hit you up (too much) in the future.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

March 8, 2014 (Sat) – I’m Having an Affair

AffairLet’s clear this up right away. Unless you think I’m typing this from beyond the grave, the type of affair I’m talking about is not the Dr. Phil spill-your-guts version. If it had been, my wife would have taken care of business and she’d be currently collecting that life insurance policy I spoke about earlier.

So what (not who, thank you) am I having an affair with? It’s certainly not the gym, having only had two dates with that entity in a year. I have cheated a bit lately having dabbled in a dalliance with some donuts courtesy of my boss who brought them in to a company meeting. Some warm Krispy Kremes would temp anyone to stray, right? And yes, I will admit to falling off the wagon about once a year and entertaining a bunch of old Twilight Zone reruns back-to-back-to-back, just as I am doing right now while pecking out this blog. And if Groundhog Day sidles up and nuzzles my DVR, I will give in to temptation and drop everything to watch it (for the 30th time). I could watch that over and over. Oops.

No, the affair I am talking about having is with everyday life.

I probably just lost half of you. That last line would indicate that I might continue in this vein and bore you to tears with the rest of this essay. Well, from my perspective, boring is the operative word. I now have a whole new appreciation for the daily stuff that is just part of everyday life. Even the mundane. OK, before you give me any well-earned grief, I do not categorize annual trips to Hawaii as mundane. mundane lettersThat is a wonderful anomaly. But getting up on a Sunday morning, grabbing a cup of coffee and the paper (remember, I’m a dinosaur and still read the printed version) delivers a renewed sense of enjoyment that I had taken for granite. Oops. Granted. Still have our kitchen remodel on the brain. That wasn’t so mundane either I suppose.

Likewise, just having a couple of friends over for a glass of wine, even if it isn’t Rombauer, and something that happens on a regular basis, now provides a whole different perspective on what it means to enjoy life to the fullest. It seems like a simple thing, and something we all do, yet to me, it now means everything. Of course, that is a bit of a metaphor, yet every daily encounter with what might be termed “just stuff,” is no longer just stuff. It’s life. And I’m damn glad to be partaking. And that’s a different type of partaking than I referred to from my college days.

BoxingAlright, enough philosophizing. Those of you that I bore on Facebook know that I was recently the recipient of a very cool 61st B-Day gift courtesy of a couple brothers and my sister-in-law. They conspired to talk Nonito Donaire Jr. into autographing a boxing glove for my birthday last month, personalized to me and my “Get Fuzzy” battle. Nonito is a four-division world champion and the former IBF, WBO, The Ring Super Bantamweight Champion. His manager tried to brush off my sister-in-law but she was not taking no for an answer. And Nonito was very accommodating. What a very cool birthday present.

On another note, I was somewhat disappointed that nobody either noticed, commented on, or solved the secret code I inserted in my last blog. Go back and take a look at my booking picture. It is actually quite obvious and you don’t even need your secret decoder ring. What a sneaky way to gain additional blog views, eh?

On the medical front, I am scheduled for my next brain MRI on Monday the 17th, St. Patty’s Day. How ’bout a little luck of the Irish on 4-leaf cloverthat day? What do you say?

Business as usual. Day at a time.

February 23, 2014 (Sun) – Guilty as Charged

Jail comboAny guesses as to what I am guilty of? Depends how far you go back. Gotta be careful here as my kids read this blog and if you travel back as far as my college years, well, you can just imagine. Or even back to my kid days. OK, I’ll fess up to:

  1. Putting my feet in wet cement
  2. Along with my buddy, setting his backyard tree on fire
  3. With my nefarious grammar school chums, denuding a neighbor’s house of all its Christmas lights, but feeling guilty a day later and leaving them in a box on their doorstep. Yes, I still feel bad about that one.
  4. Buying firecrackers and cherry bombs on the black market
  5. Purchasing alcohol before I was 21
  6. Drinking that alcohol
  7. “Partaking” in college (defined however you wish)
  8. Sneaking into a movie theater without paying
  9. Cheating on my wife. Yeah right. I’d already be dead.
  10. Jaywalking, speeding…OK, now we’re just getting silly.

Why come clean now? Eh, I’m sure a lot of you are thinking, “is that all?” OK, I was mostly a goodie two-shoes in high school, never even having cut one class. Might even have made the goodie three-shoes level. Too afraid of getting kicked off the football team I suppose. Made up for it a bit in college. And this was all BR, as in Before I joined Rotary, with its 4-way test. Reading this Chuck? BTW, this is not an all-inclusive list. Gotta leave some mystery.

But the question remains: what am I feeling guilty about?

The easy answer: feeling too damn good.

Feeling goodOK, that that is a pretty lame statement. No, let’s be honest. A pretty stupid statement. But on a certain level, it is how I feel. Let’s face it, relatively speaking, a year after being diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer, I am feeling very fortunate to be in the position I am. Quite a few don’t even make it this far and manyGuilt others have, or are having, a very tough time. So I don’t mean to be glib or come across as not having sympathy for my fellow survivors who may not be doing so well when I expound on my good health. Just the opposite in fact. So there is an element of guilt that creeps into my perspective. Yeah, I know. Nobody said I was being rational. And I know this whole scenario could turn on a dime and I would not be blogging this same conversation. But I’ll take what I have. Plus, as I said, it’s all relative.

Now that I’ve talked so much about how good I feel, here comes the “relative” part. And yes, I talk about my relatives. Always in a good Craig Froway of course. Remember Hawaii? Nuf said. But my buddy, Tarceva, likes to play games with me and right now he (she? I’m an equal opportunity druggie) is treating me to a frustrating case of Don King-itis. OK, I’m not a Photoshop genius like my daughter but you get the drift. Have to slump way down in my seat in my car so I don’t poke holes in the overhead lining. Plus my eyes feel like I’m constantly being barraged by a dust storm. I can now be legitimately described in that lineup above as “squinty-eyed.” Eh, small stuff.

Loren nancarrowThis past Friday, the Reuben H. Fleet Science Center, where I work, was privileged to host a fundraising concert in honor of Loren Nancarrow, who recently lost his battle with brain cancer. It was a very cool event and raised quiet a bit of dough for Scripps Radiation Therapy Center where he was treated. They are trying to raise enough ($500K) to have the Healing Gardens there named after him. Click here for more info.

Well, tomorrow is D-Day. Back to the gym for the first time in over a year. Gotta get back in shape for those weekly Lifting weighttriathlons I mentioned. Right now I get winded retrieving a beer from the fridge. Notice I didn’t use the term “ice box?” I’m not that old. But yeah, gotta get back on track. If I’m successful, I will have to do some convincing of my onc-doc that I lost weight on purpose. He ain’t gonna like it.

Oh, and I totally forgot what I promised in a prior blog. For those of you (I’m assuming none) that have been wracking your brain trying to remember what TV show filmed it’s final scenes at Pacific Ocean Park (P.O.P) back in the 60′s, it was The Fugitive.  Now you can relax and add that bit of trivia to your next party conversation.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

February 13, 2014 (Thurs) – Happy Anniversary to Me…

Happy AnniversarySo today, believe it or not, is the 1-year anniversary of my initial lung cancer diagnosis, back on lucky February 13, 2013. Kind of a bitter sweet celebration. On the one hand, who would want to raise a glass to celebrate such a downer event in their life? On the other hand, I’m still here. Duh. And that certainly is something to shout home about. So I will.

HOME!

OK, I know that is not what that expression means but you get the drift.

So cue it up:

Tonight my wife and I celebrated with a beer. You might expect that it would have been a Mai Tai based on my prior post. But we are trying to wean ourselves off the Hawaii fix we got after 10 amazing days on Maui.

Let’s not be so quick on that Craig…

Business as usual. What really does that mean 365 days after Dx? For those in the know, Dx stands for diagnosis. After 10 days of eating and drinking in Maui like there was no tomorrow, Dx could easily stand for “Double X,” the size of clothes I will now need to start buying.

Digressing as always.

However, business as usual means exactly that. Trying to live my life exactly as it was before Double X, er, Dx. Obviously that is not Reclinerentirely possible. For example, I can no longer compete in weekly Ironman triathlons or dead-lift 500 lbs. So I’ve had to sacrifice some things. I’ve been told I should “take it easy” and not push myself too hard. Yet, while I still can, I am not comfortable with that advice, despite the recent purchase of a new leather recliner. Hmm, maybe cutting back ain’t so bad…

But once I start going down that path, I’m concerned that it will give me an excuse to continue to cut back, even when I don’t need to. I’ve already been put on temporary hold as it relates to playing softball. I suspect that some of my teammates are bribing my onc-doc to keep me on the injured reserve list. I’ve been playing in our league virtually non-stop for 31 years. It drives me crazy not being able to play. So I am doing what anyone facing that kind of disappointment might do – eat a lot! My doc is going to be ecstatic when we meet at the end of the month.

Hot tubBusiness as usual means living, and enjoying, life to the fullest. Does it look like I might be following that advice?

This is the family group enjoying the spa at our rental house, er mansion, in Kaanapali. But if you think Hawaii was just about relaxing, eating, drinking, and enjoying family for 10 days… you’d be exactly right!

We were also able to get in 4 awesome days of golf with nary a rain drop. But just so you don’t think it was all peaches and cream, here is a quickie video from when we got greedy on the 5th attempt and pushed our luck. These are my two bros. I’m the videographer.

Now, doesn’t that make you feel sorry for us?

Thought not.

How about this view from our place in Wailea? Any sympathy now?Wailea panorama

That would be a big negatory, am I correct? Perceptive, aren’t I?

Not really trying to rub it in; just expressing that I am doing my best at articulating how important it is for me, now one year later, to continue along the same path of celebrating life as before that fuzzy x-ray popped up. And no, my head is not in the sand. Not this week anyway. :) But while I continue to do battle with a variety of side effects, it’s all small stuff. So I plan on keeping up the pace as long as I can. And in fact, I feel better today than I did a year ago, before I began any treatment. So nanny nanny.

Last week while in Maui I also celebrated the big six-one.  61 B-day cakeWhen you step over that mental barrier, and you are in my shoes, it becomes very confusing when you feel certain aches and pains. Prior to this year, I would have attributed them to just getting older. But now I am constantly looking over my shoulder at every little wince and tweak, wondering if Mr. Fuzzy is back at it. I have wanted to get back to the gym, which would obviously involve sore muscles and joints. Boy would that mess with my head. However, I can’t let that stop me as I know I need to get back into better shape than just being able to bend my elbow with a beer after our softball games.

Still awaiting my onc-doc meeting at the end of February to see when I might expect further scans. My radio-doc, however, has already scheduled a brain MRI in mid-March. He also will be doing a regular x-ray of my hip and, careful now, sacrum, to see how well the bones have healed up. That may result in green-lighting my softball comeback, despite my teammates’ bribery efforts.

Business as usual. Day at a time.

February 1, 2014 (Sat) – Life is Good

Life is Good benchOK, I fully expect the copyright police that are trolling the web to nail me for this blog title but I am using the picture with the registered trademark symbol, right? Besides, there is no better heading for this blog that I can think of. And I have a hard time imagining someone who makes a gazillion dollars off drawings of stick figures would give lowly me any grief. Heck, I didn’t give them any grief when they stole Craigslist from me.

But there you have it. A lung cancer survivor, almost a year after initial diagnosis, claiming that life is good. But at the moment, I can certainly claim that opinion. No hip pain, no known hotHawaii 2014 spots to deal with, no more scans for at least another 6 weeks to stress me out, and for those of you that are friends on Facebook, and to whom I keep rubbing it in, another wonderful vacation in Hawaii. Some of you are aware that my wife and I have been the beneficiaries of annual trips to Hawaii, courtesy of my brother and his wife. This is our 5th year basking in that generosity and I can think of no better vacation than to spend it with family. To the right is the view from our deck overlooking Kaanapali in Maui. A bunch of golf, eating copious amounts to keep my onc-doc happy, and plenty of libations to stay hydrated. And I’ve been very hydrated, thank you very much. Hey, those 6 bottles of Rombauer are staring me in the face every time I open the fridge. What else am I supposed to do?

In fact it was 12 months ago on last year’s trip that I was feeling pretty crummy thinking I had a bad case of bronchitis or something. Just a few things have transpired since then, eh? Yet, as I approach the anniversary of my diagnosis in a few days, I feel better now than I did back then. Take that bogus statistics. I’ll save the cute celebration clip art for the anniversary blog to follow in about 12 days.

TornadoAnd yet, I’m no dummy, despite what my “dumbbell English” test scores back in 1970 might have revealed. I know I am in for the fight of my life, this year as well as all of the years to follow. And follow they will. I realize that I may well be in the eye of the tornado at the moment but I will certainly take that location versus being out on the F5 edge of the whirly thingamabob. How do you like that high-brow term from someone who works in a science museum?

Earlier in the week, just two days before leaving on vacation, I was experiencing an increasing level of discomfort in my upper right chest, radiating through to my back. It was difficult to take a deep breath. The fact that it was getting worse had me very concerned. I was trying to ignore it but decided to call my uncle-doc for advice and he sent me in to urgent care to get a quickie (no, not one of those kind) x-ray to just be sure nothing nefarious was going on. Take that dumbbell English. The x-ray confirmed no new fuzzies invading my breathing premises. Final best guess is that it was from hitting a (very) large bucket of balls the week before in preparation for our trip and my body was just then castigating me for my stupid maneuver.  OK, maybe I am a dummy after all.Pinnochio

I had already made up my mind that if something wasn’t kosher but that delaying any additional treatment for another two weeks wasn’t an issue, that I was not going to fess up to anyone 2 days before leaving for Hawaii. But the findings made that little lie not necessary. I do have to admit that because my last day in the office was crazy busy, I forgot to call my wife and tell her the good negatory news. So when my radio-doc’s office called home to schedule my next regular scan, since she could not get a hold of me, she assumed I was hiding the bad news and that the radio-doc was calling because they found something. It took some convincing that I was not playing hide and seek. Especially after I confessed that I would have if the results were not good.

Pachinco machineSo I have one more analogy to leave you with before I head down to the jacuzzi with my pina colada. How many of you have had a pachinko machine, or even know what one is? The kind I’m thinking of is where you drop a metal ball, like a large ball bearing, though a series of pins and where it ends up at the bottom is anyone’s guess. That’s how this journey has been at times. Just when you think you are heading down a certain path, PING, the ball takes a whole different track. PING PING PING PING. So, rolling with the punches is definitely a character trait that is highly recommended for a cancer patient. I know, easier said than done. But considering the options of dragging myself and others around me through the muck of doubt and worry, versus riding the roller coaster and occasionally throwing your arms up in thankful glee, was not much of a debate.

As Cookie Monster might say: “Positive energy good. Negative energy bad.”

Business as usual. Day at a time.

January 20, 2014 (Mon) – “Ladies and Gentlemen, Step Right up…”

OK, your first thought might be a circus. But I can’t come up with too many similarities between my journey and a circus. Now, an amusement park is a whole different animal. It just hit me the other day that many of the events of the past 11 months have an POPeerie connection to games of chance, rides, booths etc. that you might see at the San Diego County Fair. For those of us who can’t let go, aka The Del Mar Fair. And for those of you who frequented the haunts of LA in the 50′s and 60s: P.O.P. 10 points if you know what that stands for. Give up? Or did you just cheat and Google it or click on the link? That was an amusement park on the Santa Monica pier called Pacific Ocean Park. And 20 points if you know what long running TV show filmed its last climatic episode there. Not gonna tell. Gotta have some suspense, otherwise you might not come back to a future blog for the answer.

So how do I dare to compare a cancer journey to an image of someone hawking an overstuffed prize animal for ringing a coke bottle top? Ooh, hadn’t thought about that one. Might be something there after all.

First and foremost is my comparison of my fight to the game Whac-a-Mole. Although I can’t imagine any of you not knowing what Whackamolethat is, it’s a game where you whack a mole with a mallet who pops his head up randomly in one of several holes. The more heads you whack, the higher the score. So at my last meeting with my radio-doc after he prescribed the radiation on my hip and scrotum, er sacrum, I used this analogy about whamming the cancer wherever and whenever it pops up. My normally friendly but stoic doc actually laughed at my analogy. And when I asked him what the next line of treatment would be if hot spots starting popping up elsewhere, he actually got into the game and said, it all depends on how big the herd, or whatever moles come in, was. For the record, a group of moles is called a “labour.” And if you look closely, you’ll see I substituted my fuzzy heads for the mole heads. The last two fuzzy moles have been whacked directly on the noggin and are hopefully down for the count.

Wheel of chanceAnother similarity might be a wheel of chance. Unlike the Vanna version, this one is not so much fun, no matter what section you land on. But that is how all of the side effects I have experienced have jumped around. Just when you thought you were over one, a couple months later you strike gold and get the benefit of it once more. And there is one on this wheel that is up there twice. Guess why? Uh huh. You’re smarter than you look. But that borders on TMI.

Another one we all remember is the one where the carny says he can guess weightguess your weight. Yeah, well, my docs are all about watching my weight like a hawk. Any slippage is a cause for concern so I have been very diligent about ensuring I keep them happy. More happy than they should. But hey, I aim to please. And I aim to please a bunch during our upcoming trip to Hawaii.

house_of_mirrorsWho remembers getting lost in a house of mirrors as a kid? I remember getting stuck in the one at P.O.P. for over an hour. But this journey has been somewhat like a house of mirrors. When one direction looks like the right choice, you walk right up and slam your nose in the mirror letting you know you made a slight error in judgment. When my hip pain looked like a simple case (if one can have a simple case) of arthritis, it turns out the cancer was having a munchie fest after all. Reminds me of the munchie fests I used to have in college after, er, never mind.

I also remember the shooting gallery where they preload a tube of BB’s into a rifle and you have to shoot out a star image on aStar piece of cardboard. Always looked easy enough since all you had to do was wipe out the star image. So just when you thought you had it nailed and you were due for a 6 foot stuffed bear, the carny would reel in the cardboard target and show you the tiny sliver of red star still showing. Kinda how the fuzzies have persevered. You think you have them nailed but there is always a little bit lingering somewhere. Whack them moles!

And of course, the ultimate and obvious comparison would be the famous roller coaster. From scan to scan, treatment to treatment, roller coaster 2this whole journey has certainly been an up and down ride. Mostly up, although the Chi-town meltdown would be considered a big dip. But now back on the uphill slope, click-clicking my way slowly up the incline. Here’s to the dips being just blips in the track down the road.

I could probably think of a zillion other analogies tying in bumper cars, carousels, bungee jumping, and for those as old as me, the hammer. But I think you’ve been subjected to enough of my blogitations.

And before I leave, I want to thank all of you that responded to my request for coming out of the closet, at least temporarily, so I know who is out there reading my blog. There were way too many of you to thank individually but please know that I read every comment, and appreciate every posting, you all make. Much grass. Oops, slipped back into my college persona…

Business as usual. Day at a time.