Here we are, a day before Thanksgiving, 2019. I am generally not one to be overly excited about he whole "what are you grateful for?" discussion after a large meal, but it seems appropriate this year, before the big meal.
I am grateful to be here, getting ready for Thanksgiving. I honestly can't say I had a lot of worry that I wouldn't, but looking back at the past seven months, I do get a bit of retroactive angst about how things could have ended up on that drive in May, and with all that has transpired.
I am grateful that the drive in May was not my last, and that no one, including myself, got hurt, and even the car somehow only got a tiny scratch. I have now had 30 or 40 driving experiences since then that have ended more expectedly.
I am grateful for Jill. She keeps me grounded and positive. She supports me doing things that help me heal, and helps me understand my boundaries, even as they change. She also single-handedly got the twins off to college. Jill is my love.
I am grateful all my girls are here for Thanksgiving. The twins are back, and both are enjoying college. Kai-Loo has been staying with us on and off, and doing her one-woman estate sales business as well as working on a research project with bats at Texas State.
I am grateful for family and friends, who have been supportive in a thousand ways. Too many to name, but some of the ways: calling and checking on me; bringing food; taking me to lunch; sending random funny greeting cards; sharing their own stories; sending a rainbow unicorn; supporting Jill, as she has had to deal with a lot this year; and reading my random thoughts and saying nice things.
I am grateful that I am no longer losing weight, and that food generally tastes the way it should. Two sad hold-outs: coffee and wine. But margaritas still taste fine. And I am very grateful for that.
I am grateful that I can cook again, and that I am both riding and writing. Those three things help me find my place in the world. I'm also grateful to be able to be back 100% at work, doing what I love to help vulnerable people in a difficult environment.
I am so grateful for all of these things. My Corner Pieces.
Wednesday, November 27, 2019
Wednesday, November 20, 2019
A Sneak Peak of my Secret Turkey recipe
My Saturday ride included a handful of Mighty Fine friends (both fine people and teammates from Team Mighty Fine). Including Laura, who works at HEB corporate, and Pam, who made an impassioned defense of the little HEB on the corner that could. Or that at least can, sometimes. I believe I was clear that I love HEB, but I do admit my annoyance is at the Spectrum dudes, and I promise to not be so hard on the corner HEB.
It was with that new attitude that I stopped by the store this evening. First thing I notice - no Spectrum table next to the far door. Perhaps the guy from Target relayed my concerns and HEB made a change!
Sadly, no. I did my shopping clockwise, which is the scientifically proven most efficient way to shop. This way, I end my trip in produce, so my freshly chosen produce gets home fastest (it’s just like getting it straight from the farm! Ish).
But, dammit, Spectrum dudes weren’t gone, just moved to the middle of produce. So now, instead of blocking Metamucil and generic Tylenol, products I only occasionally need, I have to pass them to get to the bananas.
A new strategy is in order. Fortunately, I adapt quickly.
“Excuse me sir!”
“Oh, great. Can you tell me where the worshcheshire sauce is? I’m sure I’m not spelling that correctly, but it shouldn’t matter because I’m actually asking you out loud.”
“Well, um...”
“What about ghee? Or is it pronounced “jee”? It’s Indian, and it’s like butter. I’m pretty sure it’s jee. I was going to go to the Asian market across the street, but thought I’d check here first.”
“Actually, sir...”
“And do you have any idea what to do with jackfruit?” I keep buying it because it looks cool, but now I have three and have no idea if it’s even edible.”
“Actually sir, I don’t work here.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Eventually you will sucker in someone with crappy internet and cable.”
So now I am coming up with my list of interesting and/or obscure products to confound Spectrum dude.
Olive loaf?
That memory pill made from jellyfish?
Those chips made from crickets?
Suggestions welcome.
It was with that new attitude that I stopped by the store this evening. First thing I notice - no Spectrum table next to the far door. Perhaps the guy from Target relayed my concerns and HEB made a change!
Sadly, no. I did my shopping clockwise, which is the scientifically proven most efficient way to shop. This way, I end my trip in produce, so my freshly chosen produce gets home fastest (it’s just like getting it straight from the farm! Ish).
But, dammit, Spectrum dudes weren’t gone, just moved to the middle of produce. So now, instead of blocking Metamucil and generic Tylenol, products I only occasionally need, I have to pass them to get to the bananas.
A new strategy is in order. Fortunately, I adapt quickly.
“Excuse me sir!”
“Oh, great. Can you tell me where the worshcheshire sauce is? I’m sure I’m not spelling that correctly, but it shouldn’t matter because I’m actually asking you out loud.”
“Well, um...”
“What about ghee? Or is it pronounced “jee”? It’s Indian, and it’s like butter. I’m pretty sure it’s jee. I was going to go to the Asian market across the street, but thought I’d check here first.”
“Actually, sir...”
“And do you have any idea what to do with jackfruit?” I keep buying it because it looks cool, but now I have three and have no idea if it’s even edible.”
“Actually sir, I don’t work here.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Eventually you will sucker in someone with crappy internet and cable.”
So now I am coming up with my list of interesting and/or obscure products to confound Spectrum dude.
Olive loaf?
That memory pill made from jellyfish?
Those chips made from crickets?
Suggestions welcome.
Monday, November 18, 2019
I am a Lucky Sumbitch
Been thinking a lot about Grandpa Sid recently. More accurately, he seems to keep coming up. Like a cantankerous, foul-mouthed ghost watching CNN at full volume.
My aunt Randy texted my brother and me a couple of weeks back with the intriguing question:
"What did we write on grandpa's gravestone?"
"Um, Sid Smith, and a couple of dates a hundred plus years apart?
"Yes, but the phrase he wanted."
"Oh, that. He was a lucky sumbitch."
"OK, thanks. Do you remember the Hebrew?"
A bit of explanation is in order. Grandpa wanted that phrase, but he wanted it in Hebrew. Through six years of Hebrew school, I learned exactly five words* (English transliteration follows, as I can't find the Hebrew alphabet on my computer. Which is either a testament to my marginal tech skills or proof that my computer is anti-Semitic):
Father - Abba
Mother - Ema
Yes - Ken
No - Lo
God - Adonai
The best I could have done for grandpa's gravestone is something like:
Adonai (God)? Lo (no). Abba (father)? Ken (yes). Ema/Abba (mother-father)? Ken/lo (not exactly, but sometimes something close to that).
Aunt Randy decided to seek more professional assistance. I think one of my cousins found some relevant Hebrew. Possibly through google translate, but I have no idea. Randy did say that they found out Hebrew doesn't have a word for "sumbitch", so they had to do a more rough translation.
I kinda think Grandpa's "He was a lucky sumbitch" probably ended up being in Hebrew something like "He was blessed with many bounties by the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob."
Last week I had a board meeting up in Dallas. We had a couple of new board members, so at the beginning of the meeting we all went around and introduced ourselves with some relevant information about our place in Refugee Services of Texas, our tenure, and then one "fun fact" about ourselves.
I actually have about seven fun facts. And no, I am not going to share them all now. You'll have to wait for a future blog post. But the one I did share also had to do with Grandpa Sid.
Long story a little less long - after re-districting removed him from his beloved Congressman Doggett's district, grandpa decided to run for Congress. As a family, we spent likely $200 on t-shirts, bumper stickers and yard signs (printed only on one side), with what is one of my few claims to fame - his campaign slogan: "At 95, Who Needs Term Limits?" An AP reporter did a story on him and it went global, and grandpa did morning radio shows and was featured in over 100 news articles. My slogan was included in the end-of-year Time Magazine as one of seven quotes of the year. Grandpa came in third (out of four) in the democratic primary, and I still write him in every time for US Congress district 10. The husband of one of my co-workers at the time was a documentary film-maker, and did this incredible 10 minute video on his run**, should you want to learn more (The More You Know!):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O--E3WPsIsI
And then this last weekend was my birthday. I have had to revise and our postpone some of my goals for the year. Mainly the cycling goals. My "lose thirty-five pounds and get a bunch of new clothes that I couldn't have fit in since 1986" goal (one I didn't even know I had)? Check. But I pulled out of the MS150 and my 1/3 of the 1/2 Ironman in October.
I also had to give up on the "go a full year without a near death experience" goal. I need one of those signs on my bedroom wall "Days without an industrial accident ___", but "Years without a near death experience." Gotta start that one back to zero in 2020.
For several years my birthday goal was to ride the number of miles that matched my age. I kinda got this from grandpa Sid, who took up running in his seventies, and ran/walked the Capital 10,000 well into his nineties. For several years his goal was to "beat his age" - i.e. when he was 85, he wanted to finish the 10k in less than 85 minutes. I was successful in my "ride my age" goal till I had a wipe-out on a muddy trail on my 50th birthday. That year, I decided I was 36.
This year, I briefly set a goal of riding 54 miles in a day. I did quite quickly understand and agree with Jill's "Oh, hell no." So I revised the goal to 54 miles over the weekend. I rode with Jill and some friends from Team Mighty Fine on Saturday, going 31 miles. Then I went solo yesterday for 24 miles, adding up to 55 for the weekend (I had to have one to grow on!).
I was happy to ride with friends, and delighted that a bunch of friends joined me on my sorta-annual Hofbrau trip Saturday, and that two of my girls were home this weekend, and the other comes back next week. I am truly blessed with many bounties by the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
* I did learn the alphabet, how to generally pronounce things, and then memorized the prayers that I needed to recite that helped me to become a man at the age of thirteen. Only in re-reading that am I seeing how that can be mis-understood. I only became a man in the biblical sense. Still problematic! I wore a suit, spoke Hebrew I didn't understand to a gathering of my parents' friends, and received about $10,000, several Cross pens, and a red lava lamp from Bobby.
** And then check out IMDB, where I was able to get Abby and Alex listed as cast members for the film "Sid Smith for Congress as "twins", and add this synopsis:
"After being redistricted out of his long-time congressional district (and thus losing his Rep Lloyd Doggett), Sid Smith - newspaper man, long-time Austinite, Realtor, 20-time winner of Cap10 K (from age 72 to 92), widow of Bert Kruger Smith, raconteur, sum-bitch, and outspoken liberal, decides that he will run for the seat at age 95. With little more than a couple dozen yard sides (printed on only one side), a catchy campaign slogan from his grandson Russell ("At 95, Who Needs Terms Limits?), and a handful of bumper stickers and t-shirts, Sid hits the trail in his long shot bid. Along the way, he garners international attention and builds momentum to the big election night, where he finishes...not last."
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1387273/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1
My aunt Randy texted my brother and me a couple of weeks back with the intriguing question:
"What did we write on grandpa's gravestone?"
"Um, Sid Smith, and a couple of dates a hundred plus years apart?
"Yes, but the phrase he wanted."
"Oh, that. He was a lucky sumbitch."
"OK, thanks. Do you remember the Hebrew?"
A bit of explanation is in order. Grandpa wanted that phrase, but he wanted it in Hebrew. Through six years of Hebrew school, I learned exactly five words* (English transliteration follows, as I can't find the Hebrew alphabet on my computer. Which is either a testament to my marginal tech skills or proof that my computer is anti-Semitic):
Father - Abba
Mother - Ema
Yes - Ken
No - Lo
God - Adonai
The best I could have done for grandpa's gravestone is something like:
Adonai (God)? Lo (no). Abba (father)? Ken (yes). Ema/Abba (mother-father)? Ken/lo (not exactly, but sometimes something close to that).
Aunt Randy decided to seek more professional assistance. I think one of my cousins found some relevant Hebrew. Possibly through google translate, but I have no idea. Randy did say that they found out Hebrew doesn't have a word for "sumbitch", so they had to do a more rough translation.
I kinda think Grandpa's "He was a lucky sumbitch" probably ended up being in Hebrew something like "He was blessed with many bounties by the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob."
Last week I had a board meeting up in Dallas. We had a couple of new board members, so at the beginning of the meeting we all went around and introduced ourselves with some relevant information about our place in Refugee Services of Texas, our tenure, and then one "fun fact" about ourselves.
I actually have about seven fun facts. And no, I am not going to share them all now. You'll have to wait for a future blog post. But the one I did share also had to do with Grandpa Sid.
Long story a little less long - after re-districting removed him from his beloved Congressman Doggett's district, grandpa decided to run for Congress. As a family, we spent likely $200 on t-shirts, bumper stickers and yard signs (printed only on one side), with what is one of my few claims to fame - his campaign slogan: "At 95, Who Needs Term Limits?" An AP reporter did a story on him and it went global, and grandpa did morning radio shows and was featured in over 100 news articles. My slogan was included in the end-of-year Time Magazine as one of seven quotes of the year. Grandpa came in third (out of four) in the democratic primary, and I still write him in every time for US Congress district 10. The husband of one of my co-workers at the time was a documentary film-maker, and did this incredible 10 minute video on his run**, should you want to learn more (The More You Know!):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O--E3WPsIsI
And then this last weekend was my birthday. I have had to revise and our postpone some of my goals for the year. Mainly the cycling goals. My "lose thirty-five pounds and get a bunch of new clothes that I couldn't have fit in since 1986" goal (one I didn't even know I had)? Check. But I pulled out of the MS150 and my 1/3 of the 1/2 Ironman in October.
I also had to give up on the "go a full year without a near death experience" goal. I need one of those signs on my bedroom wall "Days without an industrial accident ___", but "Years without a near death experience." Gotta start that one back to zero in 2020.
For several years my birthday goal was to ride the number of miles that matched my age. I kinda got this from grandpa Sid, who took up running in his seventies, and ran/walked the Capital 10,000 well into his nineties. For several years his goal was to "beat his age" - i.e. when he was 85, he wanted to finish the 10k in less than 85 minutes. I was successful in my "ride my age" goal till I had a wipe-out on a muddy trail on my 50th birthday. That year, I decided I was 36.
This year, I briefly set a goal of riding 54 miles in a day. I did quite quickly understand and agree with Jill's "Oh, hell no." So I revised the goal to 54 miles over the weekend. I rode with Jill and some friends from Team Mighty Fine on Saturday, going 31 miles. Then I went solo yesterday for 24 miles, adding up to 55 for the weekend (I had to have one to grow on!).
I was happy to ride with friends, and delighted that a bunch of friends joined me on my sorta-annual Hofbrau trip Saturday, and that two of my girls were home this weekend, and the other comes back next week. I am truly blessed with many bounties by the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
* I did learn the alphabet, how to generally pronounce things, and then memorized the prayers that I needed to recite that helped me to become a man at the age of thirteen. Only in re-reading that am I seeing how that can be mis-understood. I only became a man in the biblical sense. Still problematic! I wore a suit, spoke Hebrew I didn't understand to a gathering of my parents' friends, and received about $10,000, several Cross pens, and a red lava lamp from Bobby.
** And then check out IMDB, where I was able to get Abby and Alex listed as cast members for the film "Sid Smith for Congress as "twins", and add this synopsis:
"After being redistricted out of his long-time congressional district (and thus losing his Rep Lloyd Doggett), Sid Smith - newspaper man, long-time Austinite, Realtor, 20-time winner of Cap10 K (from age 72 to 92), widow of Bert Kruger Smith, raconteur, sum-bitch, and outspoken liberal, decides that he will run for the seat at age 95. With little more than a couple dozen yard sides (printed on only one side), a catchy campaign slogan from his grandson Russell ("At 95, Who Needs Terms Limits?), and a handful of bumper stickers and t-shirts, Sid hits the trail in his long shot bid. Along the way, he garners international attention and builds momentum to the big election night, where he finishes...not last."
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1387273/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1
Thursday, November 7, 2019
My Annoyance is Half-Full
There are two ways to view the following interaction:
1) I am feeling better enough to start being annoyed again at stupidity. AND
2) Unfortunately, brain tumor plus radiation plus chemo didn't fundamentally change the way I interact with the world, making me a better person. Maybe a little, but judge for yourself:
I generally avoid the sad little local H-E-B that is really close to my house. To be clear, I love H-E-B, do most of my shopping there, and my most meaningful teenage job was at H-E-B #4 on Far West. H-E-B is a great local company, and is very philanthropic (something that matters a lot to me).
Certainly, it has joined the two annoying trends of simultaneously being both more full-service and no service. The stores built a bunch of infrastructure to cater to people who don't want to shop, but don't mind driving to the store. That seems half-lazy to me. If you are going to put on clothes, get in the car, and drive to the store, pick your own damn bananas. But live and let live, except that this specific trend required the re-purposing of most of the best parking spaces. It's annoying, or would be if I actually heeded the signs. I'll never park in handicapped spaces, and I am fine honoring "Parents with Children", "Expectant Mothers", "Having a Crappy Day" spaces, and the like. But if you are going to set aside the best parking spaces for "half lazy shoppers", I don't feel any obligation to honor that. Sorry if that means that I will occasionally get someone's groceries because I'm parked in spot A-205. Well, not actually sorry. My suggestion - go full-lazy and get the groceries delivered, or get out of your car and pick your own damn bananas.
I am a person who will always want to do my own shopping. But, that doesn't mean I'm all in for the other trend of full-on DIY grocery shopping. H-E-B has also upgraded the self-checking infrastructure. So, either they shop for you, or you have to do everything yourself. Weigh and price your own produce, re-stock the shelves, check yourself out, and at the store I frequent on Jollyville, there is now an expectation that you collect and bring in at least ten carts from the parking lot on each visit.
But I still love H-E-B! Except the pitiful one near my house. It's the size of large 7-11. It's been many different stores over the years, all of them pitiful. I think the last iteration was a Piggly Wiggly, or maybe a Skaggs. It's the kinda store that they know not to ask "did you find everything you were looking for?" Because no, people never find everything they are looking for there. If that was the priority, they would be shopping elsewhere. But sometimes you run out of olive oil, or need bananas. And it is very convenient.
It's pitifulness may have caused the store to need to seek additional revenue sources. That is the most generous explanation I have for the fact that for the past several months, every time I come into that store, I am accosted by a young man in a suit trying to sell me internet services.
"Excuse me!"
"Sorry, did I run my cart over your foot?"
"Excuse me sir, but are you in the market for internet services?
"No, I am in the market for groceries. Like literally, in this market to buy groceries."
"Can I ask you a question?"
"You mean a second question?"
"Who is your internet service provider?"
"Let me answer that with a question of my own. Do you know if they have ginger? The real store I shop at was out."
"Can I tell you about the specials we have going on at Spectrum?"
"That's three questions. And seriously? I need ginger, and you want to sell me re-branded Time Warner? Which is still just terrible Time Warner, with a new name."
And this happens every time I shop there. If you know me well enough, you know that I mean that literally this interaction, often word-for-word, happens.
I finally complained to management, and told whoever it was (some person in a red shirt I ran into - it's possible they didn't even work there), that this sales table further degrades my already bad shopping experience. And that I may have to change my last-minute, or can't-find-that-one-thing shopping, to the Randall's. Even if I have to pay six times as much. Which I will have to at Randall's.
I related this interaction to Jill, who felt I was justified in providing feedback to the guy in the red shirt (even if he worked at Target), but that I should leave the poor salesdude alone.
I see her point, and wish (on some level) that I came through this whole experience with more patience for annoying people trying to sell me things when I am just trying to live my life, and buy ginger. But also happy (on some other level, perhaps a darker level), that chemo and radiation did not change the essence of Russell. Which is the ability to be unreasonably annoyed at certain instances of mundane human interaction.
Feeling better these days!
1) I am feeling better enough to start being annoyed again at stupidity. AND
2) Unfortunately, brain tumor plus radiation plus chemo didn't fundamentally change the way I interact with the world, making me a better person. Maybe a little, but judge for yourself:
I generally avoid the sad little local H-E-B that is really close to my house. To be clear, I love H-E-B, do most of my shopping there, and my most meaningful teenage job was at H-E-B #4 on Far West. H-E-B is a great local company, and is very philanthropic (something that matters a lot to me).
Certainly, it has joined the two annoying trends of simultaneously being both more full-service and no service. The stores built a bunch of infrastructure to cater to people who don't want to shop, but don't mind driving to the store. That seems half-lazy to me. If you are going to put on clothes, get in the car, and drive to the store, pick your own damn bananas. But live and let live, except that this specific trend required the re-purposing of most of the best parking spaces. It's annoying, or would be if I actually heeded the signs. I'll never park in handicapped spaces, and I am fine honoring "Parents with Children", "Expectant Mothers", "Having a Crappy Day" spaces, and the like. But if you are going to set aside the best parking spaces for "half lazy shoppers", I don't feel any obligation to honor that. Sorry if that means that I will occasionally get someone's groceries because I'm parked in spot A-205. Well, not actually sorry. My suggestion - go full-lazy and get the groceries delivered, or get out of your car and pick your own damn bananas.
I am a person who will always want to do my own shopping. But, that doesn't mean I'm all in for the other trend of full-on DIY grocery shopping. H-E-B has also upgraded the self-checking infrastructure. So, either they shop for you, or you have to do everything yourself. Weigh and price your own produce, re-stock the shelves, check yourself out, and at the store I frequent on Jollyville, there is now an expectation that you collect and bring in at least ten carts from the parking lot on each visit.
But I still love H-E-B! Except the pitiful one near my house. It's the size of large 7-11. It's been many different stores over the years, all of them pitiful. I think the last iteration was a Piggly Wiggly, or maybe a Skaggs. It's the kinda store that they know not to ask "did you find everything you were looking for?" Because no, people never find everything they are looking for there. If that was the priority, they would be shopping elsewhere. But sometimes you run out of olive oil, or need bananas. And it is very convenient.
It's pitifulness may have caused the store to need to seek additional revenue sources. That is the most generous explanation I have for the fact that for the past several months, every time I come into that store, I am accosted by a young man in a suit trying to sell me internet services.
"Excuse me!"
"Sorry, did I run my cart over your foot?"
"Excuse me sir, but are you in the market for internet services?
"No, I am in the market for groceries. Like literally, in this market to buy groceries."
"Can I ask you a question?"
"You mean a second question?"
"Who is your internet service provider?"
"Let me answer that with a question of my own. Do you know if they have ginger? The real store I shop at was out."
"Can I tell you about the specials we have going on at Spectrum?"
"That's three questions. And seriously? I need ginger, and you want to sell me re-branded Time Warner? Which is still just terrible Time Warner, with a new name."
And this happens every time I shop there. If you know me well enough, you know that I mean that literally this interaction, often word-for-word, happens.
I finally complained to management, and told whoever it was (some person in a red shirt I ran into - it's possible they didn't even work there), that this sales table further degrades my already bad shopping experience. And that I may have to change my last-minute, or can't-find-that-one-thing shopping, to the Randall's. Even if I have to pay six times as much. Which I will have to at Randall's.
I related this interaction to Jill, who felt I was justified in providing feedback to the guy in the red shirt (even if he worked at Target), but that I should leave the poor salesdude alone.
I see her point, and wish (on some level) that I came through this whole experience with more patience for annoying people trying to sell me things when I am just trying to live my life, and buy ginger. But also happy (on some other level, perhaps a darker level), that chemo and radiation did not change the essence of Russell. Which is the ability to be unreasonably annoyed at certain instances of mundane human interaction.
Feeling better these days!
Monday, November 4, 2019
Thought I was Breaking Better
I may not be a facial hair kinda guy. Enjoyed the goatee for a bit, but I think at least 58% of that was that it covered the birthmark under my chin. I went a full month without someone asking me "what happened to your chin?" Think of that annoying question everyone asks you all the damn time, then imagine a period of time without someone asking you that question. It's nice, right?
But eventually, that ended up not being enough. Over the weekend, I decided I would divest of the facial hair in stages. First the goatee, leaving just the stache. I've never sported a mustache, and it is Movember. Which I think has something to do with mustaches. And November.
I was mainly worried that I would end up with a porn stache. Now I wish it looked like that.
But eventually, that ended up not being enough. Over the weekend, I decided I would divest of the facial hair in stages. First the goatee, leaving just the stache. I've never sported a mustache, and it is Movember. Which I think has something to do with mustaches. And November.
I was mainly worried that I would end up with a porn stache. Now I wish it looked like that.
I showed Jill, and her immediate response was, "that's a Hitler mustache." Nice.
We went to brunch with her sister, mom and stepdad. When her mom saw me, her first reaction? "You look like Mussolini."
Well, crap. It is definitely not a porn stache. It's a World War II fascist stache. A Fache? Fascache?
I asked, "Anyone know what Francisco Franco looked like? Or the leader of Yugoslavia?"
Gordon at least had a guess for who that was. "Tito?" And told me he could look at their vodka bottle when he got home to see if I looked like that.
Several relevant points here. All of us were a bit light on our World War II facts. I think there was a Tito in Yugoslavia at some point, and I do think they were in the Axis for a hot minute, but the inter-web tells me they renounced the Germans right away and then got invaded.
Second, and to me more important, I am absolutely certain that Tito, from Tito's Handmade Vodka, was NOT named for a strongman leader of Yugoslavia. If he was a strongman. I've actually met Tito (the Vodka guy), and he looks like a guy who makes vodka.
But then, in my internet research, I found Hideki Tojo, leader of Japan during WWII. And damn if my fascache didn't resemble his a bit too.
So right after brunch, the mustache went onto the scrap heap of history. Now I think I look a little like a skinhead.
Which is not great, but better than Hitler.
I'm taking bets on how long it will take for someone to ask about the red mark on my chin. I'm guessing it'll be less than 24 hours (and I realize I am just asking for it from all of you, but fine.). I'm working on better stories.
So far, all I have is:
"What happened to your chin?"
"Brain cancer."
A little harsh and random. I'll work on it.
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