Bucket List

 With time now awaiting, seems like I need a bucket list.  There are domestic and international trips to take, people and places to. See at least once more; and crazy experiences to embrace.  I’ve already done stand up twice, so if thats an item, check.  I am making a long term travel list and inviting people to join me.  I’ll post the travel opportunities as I have them figured out.  I don’t want to skydive, but maybe do the I Fly indoor skydiving ( which looks like the thing that got Charlie Good and GrAndpa Joe in trouble in Willie Wonka.). Must remember to wipe the ceiling, and not steal the gobstopper..  there are also some Austin things I want to do at least once more- like Peter Pan mini golf, bowling, SXSW next year, and to try out a “smash room”, where you pay to go all Office Space on things.  I’ll. Sprinkle those in with travel. Next up - my problems with algorithms. 

A bit behindcertainly,I’m remiss in updates

 I have several post a to add, but all mostly related to thr top level news. A couple of pesky spots in my brain have been growing, necessitating more aggressive treatment and a recalculation of prognosis overall. Two months ago, I went to Houston to visit my mom.  I had scheduled a dinner with an old colleague.  After missing the dinner entirely, I decided to just go to my moms house.  All visual clues I have used before failed miserably.  And since my phone was dead,I couldn’t call anyone or use maps.  Fortunately, Jill still tracks me on her phone,so mom, Jill and colleague figured out I was not in Mexico and started brainstorming ways to help.  I didn’t quite warrant aSilver Alert,but you can report someone as “expected and not arrived.”  Apparently, that means that if any law enforcement person found me on the side of the road, they could look me up and say “your mom is expecting you in Magnolia.”eventually,,I pulled into a Super 8, checked in,plugged in my phone, and saw the extent of the concern to find me.  I let everyone know I had been lost, but fine.  The next morning, I am getting dressed and see 3 missed calls and 3 texts from my mom.  Then the hotel phone rang.  That’s a jarring sound- when was the last time you got a call in a hotel room?  It was Mr.  Patel from the office.

“ your mother is here.”

Props to mom and Tom for tracking me down.

I met them in the Super 8 lobby and followed them back to their house, which I had missed by more than 15 miles. The last bit of the story - when my mom came in, she told Mr. Patel, “ I am Russell,s mom.”  Which likely confusedhum, but she ultimately convinced him to ring the room.

Frightened for my safety, Abby drove Jill to Houston, then went back to San Antonio from there.  Jill drove me and my car back to Austin, the first of my full “Driving Miss Daisy” new reality. 

Jill and my brother talked and decided I likely needed more help.  My car keys have been taken, and I am being visited by a rotating visitation of daughters and ex wives.  Dr. V prescribed a steroid and then changed up my chemo drugs.  Stacy got me a zoom appointment with Stanford medical, and Dr. V said there was one more thing we could try to extend my time, but if I started this infusion chemo, it would likely disqualify me for any trials Stanford might know about.after digging into pros and cons, I started Avastin 2 weeks ago, and several people say they see a difference.  I won’t be racing F1 anytime soon, but I may be able to be more independent again eventually.  

Still looking at a much shorter runway, I decided I should have a “1st annual last birthday ever.  Jill made that happen out at Stacy’s lake compound, and 70 friends and familymmbers attended. I’m going to do this every year, but will add swag.  Like a tshirt next year, shot glasses, and other giveaways as years pass. 

Though I say I am full on Miss Daisy, I tend tend to define my help by the variety of Downton Abbey characters I need to get me through a day.  Starts with Tom the driver.  Buttons are tough, so I also need Bates the valet.  Jill and the girls often act as butler, maid, and footman, snd even sometimes Miss Patmore the cook.  Of course, I am being visited by my 3 daughters: Sybil, Mary, and the middle one (Jan perhaps?). 

Are you Ready to Tumble???

 So, with the divorce finalized, the move complete, and my next round of radiation and Chemo chugging along, I thought I might start considering the future.  A few months ago, a couple of divorced guy friends gave me the low-down on on-line dating.  They told me the apps to use, the ones to avoid, and had lots of interesting on-line dating stories.

I am not ready to start dating, and don't know when / if that time will come.  But realizing I am way out of practice meeting people, bantering, and flirting, thought I'd dip my toe in the pool, and hope there is not a lot of pee in the pool.

Becaue of age, brain tumor, or a deranged auto-correct (my guess), I didn't quite remember the apps they told me to use.  So I had some interesting experiences while trying to remember.

First, I downloaded Rumble.  Apparently, it's a dating site for men and women to find each other and box.  While I doubt I'll keep the app. I do have a bout scheduled with "Crusher Karen" in early July.  I need to train for that.

So, since Rumble was obviously not right, I downloaded Grumble.  This was much better - people bitching about things.  MY people.  But still not a traditional dating site.  Do I tried Tumble.  Thought it might be for hook-ups, but it's actually gymnasts looking for training partners.  I deleted it after getting `18 messages from Larry N.

So, realizing I wasn't going to get this one, I moved on to their next suggestion.  Pretty sure I was off on this one too.  

Fender is a dating site for people who like to work on cars.

Bender is for hard-core drinking.  I'll keep this one for now.

Then I tried Binder, and found 2 apps.The first one wanted to know if I was a dominant or a submissive.  Not knowing the answer, I moved on to the second app named Binder.  Turns out it is a dating app for people who love office supplies.  I have a date this week with Edith at OfficeMax.  We are meeting in the coffee and snacks aisle.

Minder turns out to be for people looking for others to take care of them.  Keeping this one too, based on my health situation.

Finally, my friends might have said "Hinge", but with my luck I thought that would be Home Depot dating.

So, I tried Fringe.  I think I may have accidently joined QAnon.  On the plus side, I have a date with Marjorie, who is apparently an elected official.  We are going to New York for pizza, and then down to Florida for golf.  If she likes me, she said we could go shooting.

 

As a public service, these are most definitely NOT dating sites (trust me): Mumble; Fumble; and Finder. Sender is a messaging app, Humble is something about self esteem, and Tinge is a painter message board.

So - how does one know if they are dominant or submissive.  Please, NO pics.

But our Pharmacist is Lonely!

 Halfway through radiation and about to start a new round of chemo.  Actually 40% through radiation.  Yesterday, I went to my appointment and the machine was down.  That seems like something to avoid - radiation in a malfunctioning machine.  I told them my microwave in my new duplex seems powerful, so maybe I borrow the mask and stand right next to it?  As you might expect, that was a non-starter.  So, I have an extra day of detention added on next week.  And I have been so compliant!

The poison is coming from a different specialty pharmacy than last time.  But they still ask 1,000 questions.  Got through them all yesterday and Temodar, the Chemo teller, was scheduled to arrive at my door today.  But I got a voicemail this morning saying Temodar had been delayed.  I called them back to see what the problem was - insurance, my new address, Temodar needs to be at the circus one more day?  No, the order went in too late to make a truck last night.  Perhaps if they cut the questions to 400 or less, we could have made the truck.

The nice lady at Acredo (my new specialty pharmacy that sounds like a life coach), kept asking me these specific questions:

1) do you have enough medication on hand to last the next few days? and

2) would you like to speak to the pharmacist about what to do about missed doses?

Me: "I am not missing any until they arrive.  I start the five-day regimen when I get the Chemo."

" But would you like to speak to our pharmacist?"

"No thank you.  Does he (or she or them) want to talk to me?"

"No sir. Unless you had questions about what to do about the missing doses."

I guess in her mind, I take this every day and this delay is forcing me off it for a few days.  That is a frightening thought - daily Temodar year-round.  I appreciated the concern for my potential gap in poison consumption, but I don't feel the need to chat with their lonely pharmacist to give him/her/them/all y'all (my preferred pronoun) something to do.  So, I wait one more day to start poison.  And then take it Friday through Tuesday nights.  With radiation finishing on Wednesday.  

Fair warning - I might feel like crap and be unpleasant next Thursday / Friday.  I mean, more than normal. I'll try to take it out on the Acredo pharmacist is them is still available.

Imagine Dragons is so 2019

 So, I started radiation again yesterday.  Did a full load of 30 treatments back in 2019 after the initial diagnosis.  I created my "radiation" play list then, which consisted mainly of "Radioactive" by Imagine Dragons" on repeat.  [I was going through a lot.  And to be fair, I asked for suggestions and get none].

So, trying to be more proactive this time.  And I have Spotify, which gives me access to a whole universe of songs.  This year, the list has three parts, with different themes.  First is process, second is outcome, third is hope.  I am looking for suggestions in all phases.  Though I only have 8 more sessions to go.

Process

Radioactive, Imagine Dragons (it's still the best, most spot-on radiation song I have found)

Shock, Anna Tojoux

Radiation Vibe, Fountains of Wayne

Outcome

Hurt, Johnny Cash

Forecast Calls for Pain, Robert Cray

Bang Bang (My Baby Shot me Down), Nico Vega

Till the Casket Drops, ZZ Ward (admittedly a very pessimistic outcome song)

Leading to:

Hope

I Will Survive, Cake

You've Got Time, Regina Spektor, and

Hallelujah, Rufus Wainwright

Any and all suggestions welcomed.  If I use your suggestion, I may send you an NFF (go back a few posts for that).

Compliant without complaint

 I am fully moved into my new duplex.  The couple in the "B" side moved out last week.  I met their dog on the way out.  It was a lab named :"Lily".  A new couple moved in this weekend.  They have an adorable little girl named "Lily."  A good trade-off, but I am going to lobby for them to get a dog.  Lily needs one.

I often say "I am content, not style." So I invited my friends Laura, Julia, and Meg over on Sunday to help me with style. Not only did they rearrange my furniture to make the place look so much better, they helped me determine where artwork and knickknacks should go.  I furnished margaritas to help lubricate the creative process.  Yes, that sounds a little wrong.  I see that now.  I guess "lubricate" is best left solely to car repair discussions.

At the end of the Extreme Russell Duplex Makeover, they gave me a list of things I needed to get / do to finish up.  Some pillow covers to match art work, a few decorative vases, and a frame for an "Art From the Street" painting I have.  

I bought and installed everything on the list and sent them all pictures of the result.  What follows is the actual text transcript:

Me: (accompanying pix) "Going down my to do list"

Laura: "Oh you're so compliant"

Julia "looking good"

Meg "What a snazzy, grown up man space"

Me: " I'm so including those quotes in my next dating profile.  I'll be golden to empty 

nester divorcees."

Laura: "Snazzy and compliant man with a job.  It's more rare than you think."

Me: "I found 3 on Grinder."

Laura: [spitting out water meme.]

NFF

 With the house sold, I am looking for ways to invest the equity from the sale.  I have been reading up on new types of investments - like crypto and NFT's (non-fungible tokens).  

I don't quite understand it all yet, but the little I have learned inspired me.  In my exhaustive research (a couple of google phrases), I found that an entire market has been left fallow.

I am hereby launching the world's first market for NFF's (non-fungible Funyon's).  Each NFF is an original jpeg of Funyon art that can be found nowhere else on the interweb.  Below are the first set of NFF's I am releasing to the world.  Send me a message should you be interested in purchasing one or more.  I anticipate they will be priced $50 to $100, based on conceptual design, volume of Funyon's required, and the probability of the market going through the roof.  With your purchase, you will get exclusive rights to the jpeg, a certificate of Funyon-ticity, and if you buy in the first or second round (coming soon), an actual bag of Funyon's.

Should this be as successful as I believe it will be, keep an eye out for the next type of NFF's: Non-Fungible Forks (featuring Fork Art), and Non-Fungible Fungi (featuring exclusive mushroom art).

Without further ado, the first set of NFF's:

Dis-May

 Ok,

Divorce?  Yes

Sold house and moving?  Check and check (and one of those was a large check).

Next?  Gotta be something health related, right?  We’ll see. Had my MRI today, and will see brave Dr. Valliant Wednesday.  Until then, some thoughts on my latest MRI.

Got a call this morning from ARA, telling me their 3 Tesla machine was down and wouldn’t be up by my appointment today.  So, the nice ARA lady checked all the other sites, and no one has an opening till the 23rd.  Nope.  Last MRI had a troubling spot, one which Dr. V sounds much less optimistic about.  He said we could do another MRI in six weeks or start treatment right then.  Today’s MRI was scheduled 6 weeks later.  So no, I don’t want to wait another few weeks.  But wait, ARA lady had an idea.  It seems the place I go to has a 2nd 3 Tesla machine and I could get in this evening.  Guess they forgot about that one.  

Jill used to watch “Unsolved Mysteries.”  I never got the appeal.  I need more closure in life, not less.  But, with my frequent doctor visits, I feel like I have watched the first 15 minutes of about 1/2 the shows on HGTV.  Enough for them to rip the place apart; discover the wreck of an old pirate ship underneath the house, and decide to use part of the wreck to build a signature kitchen island.  I never get to the reveal.  I assume it all goes well, but you kinda need to sit through the full 30 minutes to know.  It’s possible HGTV is just full on chaos- people ripping apart houses and leaving them like that.  Some months ( like this May), I kinda hope that’s true.  

The newly rediscovered 3Tesla machine had the same mirrors that gave you a view of the back wall.  But instead of a magazine page picturing a beach, it was just some stacked boxes.  So, I didn’t spend 30 minutes on the beach.  More like 30 minutes on the docks in the Ship Channel.  And maybe the tech was also rediscovered in the room.  The ARA folks are amazing, but for the first time the IV he gave me actually hurt.  A lot.  So, with all of this, even with the warm blanket, it was less a 30 minute restful procedure, and more like 30 minutes stuck inside a car alarm.  But, the real test is still Dr. V on Wednesday. I am 3 years into the 2-5 year prognosis of the tumor acting up again, so I could be back in treatment soon.  Or not.  Possibly my Dis-May could turn into an “A-May-zing.”  

Home is Where My SIgned Lease is

 Now that the house has sold (ish), my search for where to live next goes into high gear. Looking at condos, townhomes, and duplexes to rent, and have been finding several in Northwest Hills, where I grew up. Looks like I will go full circle. To be thorough, I've also been checking out apartments. Looked at a massive complex in Mueller, that must have had 25,000 units. Felt very Soviet apartment block. It also was full of young professionals. Nothing against them, but not really my preferred neighbors at this point in my life. I envision a lot of "quiet down! It's 9:30 and I am trying to sleep." I asked the leasing person if the place was mostly young professionals, and she told me, "we have one family." Very diverse. When I asked the same question at other places, I got some variation of this response, "we rent to anyone who qualifies." Oh, a fair housing, non-discrimination thing. I explain that I am not trying to break any laws, just wanted to know if they rent to any black people.

Our amazing realtor has been sending me other listings, and now that the house is mostly sold, will take me to see some. Her list did include one "55+ community." Hell no. So, somewhere between frat house and assisted living - that is my sweet spot. I think I have visited enough apartments to finally rule them out. I have now sent five inquiries that were never returned, and have been stood up twice on appointments. Certainly, it's not a renters' market, but damn, some day you will need tenants, and you will not have Russell Smith to kick around any more! [that may have come from a different sentence, not sure how it got there.] The first place that stood me up was a condo complex. Had an appointment at 1 on Saturday. No one was there. I called and left a message. I emailed them later. I even wrote a note on the back of my business card and stuck it in the door. No one got back to me. It still seemed like a good possibility, so the next Wednesday, I signed up for another tour the next day. I called the next morning to make sure they knew I was coming, and the leasing person sounded annoyed and said, "yes, I have you scheduled."

Awesome, sorry I ever doubted you. Not like nobody was there last time I had an appointment.

But I am a forgiving person. And I need a place to live. So I go to the appointment. They will likely have something close to what I need in a month or two, but can't show me anything right now. Not moving there.

I had set up one final appointment with a complex in NW Hills. They were annoying the other way - sending me two email and two text reminders of my appointment today at 1. Fine. Better than standing me up. But wait.

I arrive at 12:50, and the leasing office has a sign ("out on property. Be back 1:15). OK, my appointment is at 1, but I can wait. It's just my non-valuable CEO time. Or actually, lunch. No worries. 1:20 rolls around. No one.

I shot them a quick e-mail: "Thanks for all the reminders. It helped get me here on time for my appointment with, well, no one." Sent at 1:20. Then I went to a shortened lunch. When I got back to the office, I had two messages from Shannon, the missing apartment person.

1:22 pm "I am so sorry, I am not feeling well and the appointment will need to be rescheduled. Again, I do apologize for any inconvenience this may cause."

1:24 pm "Sorry to see you won't be able to make your previously scheduled appointment. You can reschedule for another time if you'd like here ! We want to make sure you have enough time to take a look around our community and apply to an apartment home ahead of your desired move-in date."

Shannon - even with everything else, if you'd stopped with the "I'm sick" e-mail, I would have been fine with it.  But - then telling me I missed my "previously scheduled appointment" and then professing worry that I won't get to see anything before I move in?  That doesn't quite qualify for a "fuck you" but I do think it qualifies for a "fuck off."  And yes, there is a tonal difference.

Animals and Creepy ass Babies

 Trigger warning- this starts cute and goes a bit, downhill.

It’s been a month of cute animals and creepy ass babies.

First, cats.  This is Elsie living her best life at the lake, where she and I spent a long weekend while the house was shown.  Yes, we are selling. And yes, we sold.  And yes, it was quick and for a kinda obscene amount.

And here is Leo. Just living his best life in general.

Next, the dogs.

This is Evans, a very good dog my friends Jennifer and Scott are helping train to be a service dog.

And these are Yara and Luna, my friends Bobby and Tara’s dogs who visited us at the lake. My brother and sister in law have a place that truly is dog heaven.  Call for rates.

Next is this teddy bear hamster.  Theadora.  No, I’m not getting a rodent, but she was cute.

Next, the baby bear.  That’s Kaileigh in her natural habitat.  She’s going to grad school soon and will be studying lions. YES, freaking LIONS. For now, she is back with bears, and this might be our first grand bear.

And finally, images from a store in Dallas that still haunts my dreams.

You’ve got your doll,parts.

And your animal skulls.

And your flying squirrel crushed by the weight of the world.  Sorry Rocky.

And your funeral signs.  My question - why is there no funeral parking at the Mortuary?  Seems like the place that would have that parking.

This image I can’t quite shake.Or explain.  Nor do I want to know any more.

And finally, there is the javelina.

So, yeah.  That answers “how is your 2022 going?”

El distrito de pollo

 Do you know how some large cities have districts that are dedicated to a specific industry / culture / etc.?

Like the Garment District in New York?  Or various Chinatowns, Little Italies, Irish Springs, and the like?

My three examples in Houston:  there is a full-blown Chinatown out southwest and a second, smaller Chinatown downtown.  The only thing I remember about the smaller one is that there is a restaurant named Fu Kim, which makes my inner teenage boy giggle to this day.  There is also a Flower District, with multiuple wholesale flower markets.  We saved money for our wedding by buying directly from the flower district.  Houston also has the Harwin district, AKA the "Cheap, plastic Chinese Crap" district.

I haven't been up to Dallas enough to know the various areas, but our administrative office is smack in the middle of the world famous Chicken District.  It spans the intersection of Abrams Avenue  and Forest Drive ("chicken, Forrest, chicken!).  In about a half-mile square area, there are the following: KFC, Church's, Popeye's, Chik-Fil-A, Williams Chicken, Regio Roasted Chicken, and El Pollo Loco.  In this strip is also a Hustler Hollywood store, which, while technically not a chicken restaurant, is included here because of the breasts (and the porn).  There's also a McDonald's, who serves something that may be considered chicken-adjacent.  I even think they are building a new "Gus Fring's Los Pollos Hermanos" on the strip.

I am ussure why this north Dallas intersection has drawn this much chicken business.  There's not like a wild chicken flock living under the bridges of I-635.  

The only thing even remotely similar that I have found is the three breakfast joints in one neighborhood in Plano.  Or possibly it was in Flower Mound, Denton, White Settlement (an actual real town), Arlington, Frisco, Garland, Grapevine or Coppell. By the way, DFW, at last count, has 193 distinct cities.  Wherever the breakfast district is (could have been Euless, Richardson, Irving, Highland Village, Little Elm, McKinney, or even Allen), they each have a full menu of omelettes, frittatas, benedicts, and other egg-centric meals.

I know your next question.  I do NOT know which district came first.

Vegas, baby! Until the Rapture

 A few weeks ago, I took a trip with three high school friends to Las Vegas.  Check your imagination right there.  Consider it this way - it was 223 years of old white guys visiting Sin City.  You know we were asleep every night by midnight.  Except me, story to follow.

And building on the cumultive oldness - there was a restaurant called the Heart Attack Cafe, where they have a scale outside, and if you weigh 350 pounds or more, you eat free.  I am happy to report that 223 years of old white guys weighs 702 pounds.  Or two free meals, though it didn't work that way.  Put another way, we weighed 3.147982062780269 per white guy year.  I'm pretty sure that number is pi, which I think would have been included in the free meal if we had qualified individually.

Being old white guys, we stayed in an AirBnB instead of a hotel.  Quieter, cheaper, and almost impossible to get anywhere.  But we had four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a coffee maker and a foosball table, which sadly never got used.

We ate, drank, gambled, and had a fun time.  Two of us won some money, one broke even, and one lost, so I think in the grand battle of the Old Men and the Vegas, we'll call it a draw.

These are my friends Scott, Chris and Kenneth.  The one who still has a baby face is only 55, while the rest of us have breached the "over 55" barrier.

We did drink in some festive places.  This place had tequila and mescal drinks, and we came here after visiting the place that had $5 "Fuck Putin"shots.

Scott and Kenneth doing - God knows what - to what I can only assume are idols of Egyptian deities.  Vegas!!

Scott in the AirBnB before we called in the domestic violence unit.

Of course, this was what preceded the call to the police.

Leaving Las Vegas (by plane, not the Nick Cage way), I saw this billboard and found my next cause.  I am gathering my Jewish brothers into a class-action lawsuit against the rabbis who scarred and tormented us.  ANd no, I didn't visit the website.  That would absolutely be part of any future Dateline I am in.

We spent a couple of nights hanging out in the Fairview area, what used to be called Downtown.  Vegas used to be a city for gamblers, then it became Disney Land.  Now, it's more like Times Square, with fewer skanky Elmos and more guys with ass chaps.  If the video uploads, this is exactly the feel of the area.

My friends on Saturday night were gambling in one particular casino. I wanted to wander a bit.  I had been winning moderate amounts in every place we went, and I knew if I stayed in one place, I would give it all back.  So, around 11 I started wandering a bit, going into different casinos and shops, and people watching.  Every 20 minutes or so, I'd head back to the Golden Gate (where the boys were), and made sure they were still there.  

At midnight, I was just across the street and decided I should check in.  Couldn't find them.  I texted.  No response.  I texted again and got this response: "we are almost back to the house."  

"Um, what?"

"We left a bit ago."

Checking my texts, there were in fact a string of "we are leaving soon", "where are you?" and "we'll meet you by the taxi stand" over the course of six or seven minutes.

Well, damn.  My friends had been Raptured and I seem to be Kirk Cameron in this scenario.

So, I head back out of the casino and see a bunch of cop cars and police closing down all the streets.  That cannot be good.  Fortunately, it wasn't a massive police sting, just them closing off every street for the 5k race in the morning.  Right.  I seem to remember hearing something about that in between shots earlier.

I go to the taxi stand and tell the first taxi driver where I am going.

"No way I can get you there.  All the streets are closed between here and there."

Oh, double damn.

"Looks like it's about 2 1/2 miles away, your best bet is to walk."

Now, Vegas is not really a walkable city, apart from up and down the strip.  My google map confirms it's only 2 1/2 miles, but gives me a walking route that avoid crossing the freeways, and will only take 68 minutes.  Walking across Vegas sounds a bit sketchy, but better then trying to run across the freeways.  So I set out.  ETA somewhere near 3 in the morning.

I cross many of the closed streets and see another taxi.  I go up to him and show him the address.

"Yes I can get you there."

"Fantastic."

"But I need to turn in my taxi now, so I can't help you."

"So you can, but you won't.  Is it because I was left behind?  Don't you recognize me from Growing Pains?"

Alas, he didn't.  So I start walking again.

A few blocks later I see one final cab coming up the street.  He was nice enough not to run me over when I laid down in the middle of the street.

I told him where I was going.

"Yes, no problem."

"Fantastic, I say, waiting for the "...but..."

"Hop in."

He got me there in five minutes.  Didn't even have time to turn on the meter.  I think I gave him $50, and was happy to do it.

The boys were asleep.  Didn't seem surprised to see me in the morning, but were strangely uninterested in how I got there.  And why I was wearing the 5k t-shirt.

But, all in all, a fun trip.

Yes, there was a holiday letter.

 The Smith holiday letter 2021 had a much smaller distribution list, as you will understand below.  As it's now several (or 3) months later, herein is the hertofore embargoed letter:

December 2021

The Lost Biblical Book of Russell (Job’s fourth cousin, thrice removed.  Twice for cause, and once for a misunderstanding over an ox).

And the Lord said unto his personal assistant Jim, “Jim, it doth been many centuries since I have tested a believer’s faith in me.  Bring unto me the name of someone I can fucketh with, as a test of his faith.”

And Jim said unto the Lord, “Have I got the guy for you!  Lo, his name is Russell.”

And the Lord asketh, “Is he a good Christian man?”

Jim respondeth,” Um, no.  He seems to be Jewish.  Possibly also Unitarian.  And may even be an atheist.  I found all of this on the internet.  And, by the way, THAT was an amazing invention, big guy!””

And the Lord commanded “Hit him with my best wrath.”

And so begins the trials of Russell.  Which technically started in 2019 with a brain tumor, continuing into 2020 with the end of Chemo and the global pandemic.

“Jim?”

“Yes, big guy?”

“What should we start with?”

“Let’s give him a second form of cancer, something in his plumbing.”

And thus did the holy colonoscopy reveal colon cancer in March.  Leading to surgery in April.  Which removed the colon cancer.

“Well, that didn’t do much, Jim.  What else you got?”

“Well, sir, he’s vaccinated, but I could give him a breakthrough CoVid case.”

“Bring it.”

And thus did Russell get a breakthrough CoVid case, with a bonus sinus infection.  But both cleared quickly.

“Jim, looks like he is still standing.”

“Sir, just wait.  I’m not done.”

And thus did the stone manifest itself in his kidney to causeth pain and discomfort.  But this too, passed.

“Jim, are you sure you are up for this?”

“I was considering scurvy next.  But he drinks a lot of margaritas.  I doubt scurvy would stick.”

“Jim, do NOT incur my wrath.”

“I have one more thing.  We could break up his 25-year marriage.”

“Well, that sounds better than smiting someone or something.  Unless he has cattle.  Does he have cattle I could smite?”

“No sir.  He did have a lovely cattle dog named Blossom.  But she died a few years back.”

“Oh, I remember Blossom.  She was a good dog.  No way I smite any creature that amazing.  So, smiting is out.”

“He still has difficult cats.”

“But wouldn’t smiting them help him?”

“Fair point, sir.  Guess we’ll have to go with the marriage thing.”

And thus did Jill and Russell agree-eth to part ways in 2022.

“And make him keep one of the cats.”

“Sir, haven’t we done enough to him?”

“OK, we can end here.”

And here endeth the Book of Russell, 2021. 

 

The children he begat had good years.  Kaileigh, the eldest, moved from projects with raccoons and opossums in South Carolina to bears in the Everglades, and finally back to raccoons and opossums as she explores graduate school options.

Twin A (or Alex, as she is now called), is finishing up year 3 of college at Loyola in New Orleans.  She has enough credits that she graduates in May 2022, and is considering next life steps. She moveth the crazy orange cat Leo to New Orleans, where he is leading his best cat life.  He even got to travel the south with New Orleans evacuees escaping hurricane Ida, becoming for a handful of weeks “Florida cat.”

Twin B (Abby) is also is her third year of college at Trinity in San Antonio, but will go all four years before moving on.  She has moved from Chemistry to Physics to Quantum Physics and is presenting at conferences and continues to dance and sew.

Russell is still leading Refugee Services of Texas, and he and his organization are neck deep with Afghans these days.  After the chaotic withdrawal from Afghanistan, tens of thousands of Afghans were displaced and in need of a new home.  After four years of low resettlement under Cheeto Voldemort, his agency is growing and expanding at a rapid pace.  He taught one class at UT this year, and was excited to be back in the classroom. He joined the board of Regarding Cancer, a small, young non-profit in Austin who provide peer support to people getting cancer diagnoses and their family members.  Something he can relate to.

He is heading to Hawaii after Christmas with his brother, his brother’s family and their friends.  He will be spending his 25^th anniversary there.  Ironically, at 25, the gifts start back over.  So, like the first anniversary, 25 is “paper.”  Sadly though, it’s “Papers served.”

I guess I can switch to first person here, after the divine narrator and third person.  I am unsure what the future brings, with my health and now, pretty much everything else.  Lots of things will be different, even though Jill and I will continue to be close, and continue to have amazing kids.  But, for at least now, I wanted to continue to have a holiday letter, if only to my peeps, and even if it is the last one.  I wish all happy holidays and a great 2022.  I certainly need a great 2022.  2021, much like its predecessor, kinda totally sucked.

Love,

 

Russell

8106 Greenwich Meridian, Austin, Texas 78759

Russell:  russasmith@aol.com; 512-627-8699

Russell’s blog:  http://cornerpieces2.blogspot.com/

Oh, right. Houston

 Just came back from a quick 32 hour trip to Houston.  Went there to gather with the other refugee resettlement agencies to meet with Governor Jay Markell, President Biden's person who is heading up "Operation Afghan Allies Welcome."  After a slow start, we (RST) have already welcomed over 1,000 Afghans to our sites across Texas in the last two months.  And things are just now picking up.

I am the old white guy on the right.  OK, one of the old white guys.  Governor Markell is in the middle.  I was excited to meet Houston Mayor Sylvester Turner and Congresswoman Sheila Jackson Lee.  Neither of whom are old white guys.

I came in for the day Friday, spent the night, and then headed home today.  Since I was staying way SW, near Harwin, I decided to take a trip down memory lane and see some cheap, Chinese-made plastic crap in one of the 2,382 stores.  [Jill-I didn't buy anything].

I did find this, and it is problematic for so many reasons.

It's a set of knock-off Chinese made cheap plastic Disney Princess dolls.  Sleeping Beauty and Belle are there, of course,  but also Skanky, Sleazy, Pestilence, and Ivana T.  Notice the tagline at the top "The more you play with me, the happier I will be."  Not sure who the "I" is there, probably Skanky.  

Then, of course, there is the promise that this is "The Best Welcome Gifts for the Children."  I asked if they could donate a few thousand for our newly arriving Afghan families, but got a hard no.

I would have bought a few myself, but the sets were $79,97 each.  High quality Chinese plastic crap.

Having satisfied my Harwin itch for another 15 years, I went to the Houston antique mall on Hempstead.  I am a collector of stereoscopic pictures - cool, 3D pictures from the late 1800's and early 1900's.  When I visit other cities, I sometimes sample their antique malls, both to look for stereoscope pictures and to interact with cranky old white people.  [Makes me feel better about myself.]I didn't find any steroscope pictures, but there was this:

Now I remember why we left Houston.  All the damn bears and zombies.  I am safely back in Austin, where we may be weird, but not like that.

My Own Private Golf Cart

 Grandpa Sid was a badass.  And a sumbitch (his own words), but definitely a badass. He took up running in his 70's and ran (with some walk mixed in) the Capital 10,000 well into his 90's.  The Austin American Statesman, who puts on the race, through kindness, and I imagine, some amount of concern over liability (Honestly, a 93 year-old keeling over during your big race is terrible PR), started providing a golf cart and driver for "Team Sid" around when he was 96.  It allowed him to complete the race at whatever pace he wanted till he was almost 100 years old.  Total badass,

Grandpa Sid for many years had a specific goal - he wanted to "Beat his age."  Meaning, he wanted to finish the 6.2 mile course in no more than the years he had been alive.  (i.e. at 78, he wanted to finish in 78 minutes or less).  As he got a bit older, he did loosen it to finishing within the number of years for which he had at least started.  Grandpa Sid was a big proponent of "I'm now in my 81st year" kinda statement.  So, therefore, at 80, he got that extra minute.  For years, he hit his goal, but as he got older, that got harder.  Certainly, he had the speed during the golf cart years, but in those years, he spent so much time just interacting with the other runners, I doubt he hit his goal.  Nor did he care.

In Grandpa Sid's honor, I started an annual goal of "Ride my age."  I wanted to cycle the number of years I was on my birthday.  I kinda think I may have actually accomplished it once (either at 48 or 49).  At age 50, on my birthday ride, I hit a big patch of mud on the Brushy Creek trail and had a hard spill.  That year, I decided I was 38.  Done.

In recent years, I have had to come to the realization that riding my age is not in my cards.  With my plethora of health things that have come up, riding more than 50 miles in one outing is not where I am these days.  Or, as Jill puts it, "hell no."

So I have had to adapt to my own private golf cart.  Cue B-52's.  Meaning, I can ride my age during the week of my birthday.  And to make it special, I add one to grow on, cause god knows I need one to grow on each year at this point.  So, for example, last year, for 55, I rode 30 miles on Saturday and 26 on Sunday.  boom (little b).  This year, I rode 35 miles the Sunday before my birthday and 24 miles on my birthday (adding a few extra to grow on).  boom.  Someday I hope to get back to the original goal.  Or conversely, be around long enough that someone, out of respect or fear for my safety, rents a golf cart to follow me each year.

Helium Man

 Today was supposed to be the day I did a relay half Ironman with two work colleagues. We first signed up for the race in 2019, but had to put that off because of brain tumor.  Mine, that is.  

So,we bounced our registration to 2020.  And then, of course, CoVid.  Not mine, but ours.  The Waco 1/2 Ironman did not run in 2020.  So, on to 2021.  

And then, colon cancer.  Sure, at some point, it is worth considering cause and effect.  I’m not quite ready to blame the Ironman for all of this, but there are now several data points.  Still more likely correlation than causation, but worth further study.

I healed nicely from colon surgery and was riding regularly, building up my mileage.  I was still slower than I needed to be, but still had time to train.  Then, boom.  CoVid. This time, mine. Followed by kidney stone.  Training slows, stops, restarts.  

About three weeks ago, Jill and I were 30 miles into our planned 41 mile ride, when she saw me struggling.  Sometimes I resist admitting it, but I was really struggling.  I stopped at Louis, King of France  Catholic Church, while she finished the ride and came back to get me.  One thing that puzzles me is that, during this time, services let out, and people streamed past me leaning against the tree next to the church, got in their cars, and left.  Not a single person asked me how I was doing, or even why I was there.  Setting aside the whole Christian charity part, it seems almost like a slam dunk.  Dude in distress is at your door, potential new Catholic!  I must note a couple of things, though.  This is the church that often displays crosses to show how many babies have been lost to abortion.  AND - I was wearing my new Cycling Jersey that says “Abort Texas Republicans” on the front and “You Have to Have A Heart to Have a Heartbeat” on the back.  So, it’s possible I’m not high on their proselytizing agenda. But I am a middle aged, heterosexual white guy, so there’s that.

Jill picked me up, and I remain a Jew and an occasional Unitarian.  But I had to admit I would not get to the place I needed to be by today to do the Boron Man. See earlier post.  So, very sadly, I bailed. Fortunately, I was easily replaced, so the show went on.

This morning, I decided I needed to ride a bit.  The cycling part of the 1/2 Iron is 56 miles.  It was a lovely day, and I did 20 miles.  So, about 1/3 of the 1/3 of the half.  By now I’m down to atomic #1. So I did a Helium Man.  I did feel a bit floaty, and I have been talking in a high voice all day.  And I do believe Helium Man may very well be a They Might Be Giants song.

At three distinct points on the ride,I came across a group of three vultures, feeding on some type of road kill.  The first was a squirrel, the second was a bunny, and the third looked a bit like a spider monkey, or possibly a koala.  

After the third encounter, the head buzzard looked at me like Beaky Buzzard looking at Leo the Lion in the old Warner Brothers cartoon.  I’ll be impressed if anybody gets that reference.

But I gave him my best “I’m not dead yet,”  which I know is a better known reference.  But he tells me, “I’m so old, all I can eat now is marshmallows.”  Anybody?  Nobody?

So, I need a new cycling thing to sign up for and look forward to.  Gonna skip trying the 1/2 Iron for a few years.  Certainly it’s likely not causing my ailments, but why test that?

You've Got to be Kidney Me!

 Oh for fucking fuck's sake.  Sometimes that just has to be said.  

OK, colon cancer is a thing of the past. Fine.  Great.  So, of course, there had to be a next thing on my disease-merry-go-fucking round.  I got a breakthrough CoVid case.  Nothing too serious, but it brought a friend - a sinus infection.  So, I lived in another part of the house, and got over what was actually pretty mild.  Binge-watched Ted Lasso and Money Heist, so I used my time well.  At the tail end of Covid, I kinda thought I got food poisoning.  Very painful stomach and serious nausea.

But I still had some serious drugs I never used from post surgery, so a couple of high powered pain killers and a night of sleep, and I felt good as new.  All of this had a vaguely deja vu feeling.  But from Friday morning through the following Thursday, food poisoning was my self diagnosis.  But then.  Thursday night, unbelievable pain returned.  Oh yes, I remember now.  Jill took me to the hospital, where the doctor said it could be one of two things.  My own diagnosis of a kidney stone, or a burst appendix.  And while I am excited I got both the diagnosis and the treatment correct (kidney stone and serious painkillers), I am even more excited my brief hospital stay did not lead to appendix surgery.

But still, zero stars for kidney stone.  My body makes tiny pebbles that cause unbeleivable pain.  It's something that works itself out, unlike, say, any other of my maladies.  It would be amazing if Brave Dr. Valliant, on my next visit, told me, you know, brain tumors just need to pass.  Then you'll be fine.  But alas, that is probably unlikely.  Likely 98% not gonna happen.

I am worried about what is headed my way next.  Jokingly, I've been telling people scurvy, both because it sounds like I've been on a pirate ship, and because I can proactively seek treatment with margaritas.  I told this to my therapist (no, not Sanjeep - he went full-time into tech support and is now making $175k a year, and still able to bill Medicaid).  My actual real therapist ssaid, "yeah, like scabies."

"Um, no.  Scurvy.  Like scurvy.  You and I still have some work to do.  I don't joke about scabies, leprosy, or even that disease that makes you tired all the time - was it "Roseanne Barr" syndrome?  Or did that just make you casually rascist?  Like having Gibson's Palsey makes you casually anti-Semitic.

Not Lyme disease.  Not beriberi.  Not river blindness.  Not even gout.  It's scurvy or nothing for me next, dammit.

I'm a survivor (what), I'm gonna make it (what)

 Massive apologies to Destiny's Child.

Just met for likely the last time with Dr. Lakshman, the surgeon with a poop emoji on his laptop.  One final check on everything, and he and I have parted ways.  The final check had nothing on the colonoscopy, the surgery, or the recovery, but I can say (warning here - skip to next paragraph if you don't want to visually picture, well, what is coming), I absolutely understand the concerns of people who get abducted by aliens.  Probes are unpleasant.

But all is healed, all is well, and I believe I can now call myself a colon cancer survivor.  That's exciting.  Certainly tempered with the knowledge that, as I understand it, I won't ever be able to say that about the brain tumor.  Maybe brain tumor Endurer, maybe brain tumor long-term Endurer (I hope), but Survivor is not really in the cards. Still, you take the victories as they come.  And with this, I must express my apologies to my brother and Kaileigh who now both have expedited colonoscopy timelines, based on their family history (me).  And Abby and Alex, though they won't know this or understand it for some years.

February 2036: "Happy 35th birthday!  Time for your colonoscopy!" Maybe they can get a two-for-one special.  

Recently, I joined the board of a small, young organization in Austin called Regarding Cancer.  They connect people who get cancer diagnoses and their family members with people who have gome through that experience.  They also place volunteers in chemo clinics (interrupted by global pandemic), to sit with patients who are enduring the hours-long chemo treatments.  This seemed like a place I could lend my particular skillset, as I now have way too much experience with getting cancer diagnoses.

One of their fundraisers is a comedy event - Stand Up for Cancer.  Sadly, with the Delta variant, it's being cancelled this year.  But it got me thinking of my own stand-up, the one time a few years back when I surprised my staff at a comedy event fundraiser we were having by doing 3 minutes of stand up.  Jill's cellphone video is below.  If this worked correctly, you probably need to copy and paste this to your browser, and when the page comes up, click on the date "March 1, 2017" to play.  Don't worry about your bank account, but feel free to send me your pin and DOB.

file:///C:/Users/au-ceolt/Google%20Drive/REFUGEE%20SERVICES%20OF%20TEXAS/CEO/Personal/RSmith%20Comedy%20Routine-click%20date%20March%201,%202017%20to%20play.html

Dad Advice

 I was looking through some old files, and found this letter I wrote to Alex when she was a senior in high school.  The twins' English teacher asked for parents to write a letter of advice to their children they could read at the end of the semester.  Since we have two, we divvied it up.  I took Alex, Jill wrote to Abby.  I am sure her letter was heartwwarming, lovely, and life affirming.

I wrote and sent this before the beginning of my "adventures" in May 2019.  Should there be a need for material for a memorial, testimonial,obit, or the like, feel free to use any of this.  And to be clear, nothing is more eminent than it was.  But, you know, it's good to be prepared.

October 2018

Alex,

I thought about trying to write this in iambic pentameter verse, but then realized I don’t even entirely know what that means, so abandoned that idea.

Your teacher asked that we write and share wisdom and advice for the future.  So, without further ado about nothing (see what I did there?), here you go:

Dad’s Advice to Alex:

1)      Embrace laughter.

Humor will serve you well in life, in both the good and bad times.  But there are also times when you need to put it away.  Experience will teach you when those times are.

2)      Show up. 

Be present, go to the rallies, listen actively, be there for the friends in need, and for the celebrations. A large part of life is just showing up.  Given enough time, since I am a numbers person, I could likely calculate what part of life, on average, is showing up.

3)      Explore the paths.

Whenever you see an interesting path, be curious and see where it goes.  It may not lead where you want to go, but it may be something you didn’t even know you were interested in.  Keep track of where you started from, and turn-around if the path is dull.  And then explore the next one.

4)      Focus on interests and not positions.

This one has become part of my core philosophy.  Often we get stuck arguing about positions (specific ideas about how to get something done).  It will almost always help to take a step back and focus on interests (what we want accomplished).  Usually, when we move off the “how” and focus on the “what”, life works better.

5)      Don’t nurture regret.

There will always be things you wished you did or didn’t do, and it’s important to learn from them.  But also know that the path you did take is just as interesting, if not more so.  What could have been never will be, but what is, is.  (I don’t think I nailed the landing on that last sentence).

And finally, one I’m not so good at, but hope you will take to heart:

6)      Stay in touch.

I’ve lost touch with too many friends and acquaintances over the years through inertia – the day-to-day laziness we all get.  I don’t call my parents or brother enough, and have lost track of good friends I should’ve kept up with.

I love you.  I am enormously proud of you.  I am so excited for you as you head toward the next chapter(s) of your life.

Dad

P.S.  My smaller, more insignificant advice is on the back.

Dad’s less important advice:

1)      Fonts matter.  Consider Garamond, or even better, Optima.

2)      Always go to the funeral.  Yes, I hope you don’t have to follow this anytime soon, but I’m just planting the seed that you should never be too busy to go to someone’s funeral.  [Someone you knew, not every funeral]

3)      An outstanding pen can make a measurable difference on your day.

4)      People may say they aren’t “dog people”, but anyone who is mean to dogs or professes to “hate” them should not be your friend.

5)      I would really appreciate a grandchild at some point from one of my girls.  I’m fine with adopted, fostered, or whatever other variety there may be.  No specific pressure on you, just putting it out there into the world.

6)      Love who you want to love, no matter what anyone else says.  As long as that person is nice to you, I will love them too.  (perhaps this should have been on the front page).

7)      Your relationship with your twin will ebb and flow.  Remember that she is the person you will know longest in this world.  Try not to kill each other.