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.

 

My Million dollar RPG Game

 OK, maybe a litle less than a million,  But a cool idea nonetheless.  And to be clear, this has been developed with my amazing daughter Kaileigh.  

The background:  while Kaileigh is in Florida doing research on bears in the Everglades, and sending us amazing pix of bears, her mundane mail comes to our house.  She gets a monthly Wildlife Professionals magazine, and medical and dental mail.  Not like, actual teeth, but, letters from her dental insurance provider - Dentaquest.  I send her a list of the mail we accumulate and if there is anything she needs, I forward.  Yesterday, there was nothing forward worthy, but we did have this amazing text exchange:

Me: BTW - DentaQuest is my new favorite RGP game.  I play it daily.

Me: I'm currently on the quest to increase my knowledge by finding the Wisdom Tooth of Andor.  My weapon is only dental floss.

Kaileigh: You must collect some silver fillings and upgrade your enamel armor if you have any chance to fight off the Plaque.

Me:  The Plaque?  You must be far.  I'm still battling gingivitis.

Me: Have you conquered the Retainer of Incisor Valley yet?  I hear you are awarded a gold crown.

Kaileigh: No, I'm stuck on the molar bridge.  I'm having a hard time defeating Halitosis, even with my tongue scaper.

Me: Use the Night Guard!  He can help you defeat Halitosis.

Kaileigh:  Oooh, that's a great idea! I've been leaving him on brushing duty.

I love this kid!  To be clear, I love all my kids.  But it will be some time before either twin would entertain this silliness with me.

Feel free to add to the storyline.  Should it make it into the actual game, and someone decides to make a real game, code it, market it, sell it, and give me royalties, I will certainly send my thanks.  And if anyone knows how to get a silly idea developed into a video game, that's also a gap I seem to have.

OK, fine

I have given up on Corner Pieces ever being a real book (sorry Pinnochio!).  At my agency, we are creating a cookbook featuring stories and pictures of 20 refugees, with recipes from around the world.  Doing the research in how to print it, I came to the conclusion Corner Pieces will never get there.  So I link it here.  I''ll post about the cookbook when it comes out.  Should be really cool.

Corner Pieces

Post Covid World

 Certainly, I know we are not yet post CoVid.  However, things are creeping toward that, aren't they?

Last week, I travelled to our administrative office in Dallas, and visited our sites in Dallas and Fort Worth.  Never would I have imagined being so excited to drive to Dallas.  After driving there and back, yes, the drive is still a grind.  But, it was so nice to be able to go.  And I didn't even stop at Buc-ees.  There are people on my staff that have joined the cult of Buc-ees.  I don't quite get it, but their bathrooms are 1,000 times cleaner that every other option, so I give them that.

A few post-Covid observations (this time, likely just a few - which Jill insists means three, and I still think means 3-5 - which is in fact the actual definition of few).

1) In Dallas, I stayed at our normal hotel - the Hyatt Place.  While normally an acceptable hotel on its best days, the Hyatt Place hasn't quite heard about vaccines and the eventual end to CoVid.  Whether as a cost-saving measure or because of the difficulty of hiring these days, they have disposed with housekeeping.  If you stay more than three nights, you can ask them to clean your room once, if you give them 48 hours notice and then leave the room for 12 hours.  I was staying three nights, so I had the pleasure of an uncleaned hotel room for my stay.  Now, I don't typically trash hotel rooms, but I do generate trash, and the takeout food remains did give the room a faint thai coconut soup aroma by my departure.  Happy I didn't choose the Mexican place.  I never mind using a towel more than once, and usually there are signs about saving the environment and hanging up towels if you didn't need them washed.  Every time I did that before, they would get replaced.  Not this time!  And finally, I found myself making the bed on my third day.  Just wanted to come back once to a made bed (and coconut soup aroma).

The Hyatt Place breakfasts were always a bit - underwhelming.  I was always surprised at how thin one could slice bacon, and how paper thin bacon tastes nothing like bacon.  And much more like paper.  But they usually had at least a banana or an apple that was not rotting.  Now, they have a "grab and go" breakfast.  Which was more of a "grab and no."  An expired individually wrapped blueberry muffin, jackfruit yogurt, and a small carton of lowfat buttermilk.  I stopped at the store and got some fruit and granola bars.  Make my own bed and make my own breakfast? Certainly makes me feel at home!

2) We received a grant from the North Texas Community Foundation, and their celebration reception happened to be the Thursday I was in town. So I put on a nice shirt, a tie and my sport coat (first time in a very long time) and head to Fort Worth for the reception.  I know that I haven't worn the sport coat in some time because, as I was interacting with donors and community partners, people starting pulling out their business cards.  I reached into my sport coat pocket and was pleased to find a stash of business cards.  Unfortunately, they were for my last job, the one I left three years ago.  The funders were surprised to find out that the Executive Director of Austin Child Guidance Center was accepting the grant for a refugee music project in Fort Worth.

3) And then this week, I had a day with TWO coffee meetings - at the beginning and end of my day.  And while it was amazing to interact with humans and be out at coffee shops, my 38 minutes of sleep that night reminded me why I used to space out coffee shop meetings.  

Brave new world!

And now, this

 Enough of the cancer already.  Every once in awhile, I go back through my camera and find a bunch of interesting photos.  Things that interested me at some point.  A window into my brain, plus some cute animal pix.

OK, there has to be some pix related to cancer.  My colon cancer beard (now gone):

 

Contrasted with my brain tumor beard:

Elsie has taken up the treadmill.

But after a strenuous workout, she still needs a cuddle with Sigmund.

After Austin's storm-pocalypse, this tree seems to be a-peeling.

Kaileigh is still living her best life.  She is doing a project with bears (!) in the Everglades.

This comes after a project in South Carolina with Racoons and opossums
.

You may have noticed this is neither a raccoon nor an oppossum.  This kitty took advantage of the trap B&B one night.  I doubt she left a good yelp review.

My niece Hannah graduated last weekend from UT.  My mom and Tom came up from Magnolia and Abby was in from San Antonio.  Stacy, Holly, and nephew Ryan (pictured) as well as a good number of Hukes were there.  We are all vaccinated.  Doesn't this look a little like actual life?

And in case you were wondering about Leo, he is by the "Cat Mate" 24/7, waiting.  Tried to teach him about time, and even gave him a little kitty watch.  Didn't take.  "This thing feeds me.  Will it feed me now?  How about now?  If I wait here, certainly it will feed me soon.  How about now?"

As You Wish

 I am on the other side (the good side) of colon surgery, healing from robot surgery and learning to live without my sygmoid colon.  Without getting too specific, eleven days in, seems like the plumbing work was successful.  I needed some of the serious painkillers they gave me for the first few days, but now I have a bunch left over to add to the collection of cannabinoid products gifted to me during chemo.  I have almost enough inventory to start my own little pharmacy.  But I would never ever do that.  

My diet is heading back to normal, and the remaining discomfort is attributable to the incisions rubbing against clothing.  I'm back up at my office, and since there are days no one else is here, I may end up topless.  But I would never ever do that.

So, when you get two different types of cancer, you automatically qualify for a free genetic test.  I do love free things.  Certainly, I prefer the 2 for 1 cocktail specials (now illegal), free candy from strangers on Halloween (now impractical and likely creepy), and free beads from Mardi Gras floats (now forbidden till Alex graduates from Loyola).  But a free genetic test it is!  Partly to see if there are other fun surprises down the road for me, but mostly to see if there are things any of the Smith girls need to be on the lookout for.

As opposed to every other medical report from the past two years, this one was good news.  They check 59 genes (the ones they have identified to be possible causes of various bad things).  You get one of 3 results - positive, negative, or "variant of unknown significance."  I think negative is what you want here, and 57 were negative.  Meaning I have the genes, but no abnormalities.  Nothing was positive, but I did have two "Rodents of Unusual Size."  Meaning I have a couple of variations that can be associated with particular disorders but probably aren't.  I kinda wish I took more  Biology or Genetics.  But both variants may be possibly connected to things I don't have, things my kids don't have, and in one case something that sounds kinda awful but would have shown up at birth.  Again, a variant that could be connected to something I don't have and didn't pass on.  And apparently, 93% of these variants eventually get re-classified to negative anyway.  Don't have it, didn't pass it on, and it is meaningless anyway.  So, all good.

And at the risk of revealing too much medical information, and likely now starting to get Facebook ads related to this, one variant may possibly be related to an increased likelihood of schwannamatosis.  Yes, I did look this up.  And it is a real thing.  Apparently 1,000 to 1,200 people have it, mainly in Japan.  I don't.  And I am not passing it on to my kids.  I mention it because when my healthcare professional told me about this, both Jill and I laughed.  Not sure why Jill laughed, but I laughed because it is one of the funniest named disorders I've ever heard.  I have had my fill of "-inomas", so hearing that I have a variant that could possibly have some connection to "Onomatopeia-tosis" just made me giggle a bit.  And to be clear - I don't have Omomatopeia-tosis, nor or my kids at greater risk of getting DavidSchwimmer-tosis.

So, all in all, it was the best healthcare news of the past 48 hours, maybe longer.  Though I am still trying to get my head around the final finding - my brother and I are actually fifth cousins, thrice removed.  Not even sure how they got his blood to check.

Sigmoid and the Sea Monsters

 Are all colon doctors full of energy?  Jill and I met with my new colon surgeon today.  He brought in a laptop that had a giant poop emoji sticker on the back.  Bold choice.  But like my new high-energy oncologist, Dr. Lakshmi was equally high energy.

Looks like I will be scheduled for surgery in a couple of weeks. He told me about the 2-4 rule.  2-4 hours of surgery, 2-4 days in the hospital, and 2-4 weeks recovery.  Likely I will be out for a short time, then need to work from home for some of the recovery.  If only I had had any practical experience working from home, sequestered from human contact and doing on-line meetings.  Certainly shouldn't be that hard, right?

In the exam room, there was a diagram of someone's digestive track, pinpointing every single disease that can/does occur.  It was useful to see the plumbing, but damn, that person had some serious issues.  Kinda put things into perspective.  Certainly, my thing is not fantastic, but I don't have withering bowel syndrome, or super nasty carcinoma of the urethra.  (That was an actual thing that might have been on the chart - the font was really small).

My first spitfire colon doctor had me thinking they would take out 1/2 my colon.  It's closer to 20%.  I will be losing my Sigmoid Colon (Freud's medical doctor third cousin).  You have your first part, then your second part (sorry if that's too technical), then the Sigmoid Colon, then we head to the exit.  I'm just losing that fancy outer room that some swanky bathrooms have, often with attendants and spritz bottles of mouthwash.  And when you think of it that way, ewww.  Sorry.  

But they will take my colon sitting room, stick the other parts back together like PVC pipe, it will all heal, and then I get to go back to just one cancer!  I did smart-assedly ask if they used gorilla glue, and he told me they use tiny staples, but then they do actually use some form of glue as well.  If you ask a smart-ass question, sometimes you get an answer. Again, ewww.  

Dr. L told me they use a "minimally invasive" method, called the DaVinci Code, or Method, or something.  I wasn't sure what minimally invasive meant (even after he clearly described it).  I thought it included not asking too many hard questions.  But no, google tells me it is robot assisted!  Awesome.  And instead of one big-ass scar, apparently I will have a few, small incisions, around my belly button, on the bottom of my left foot, and if I heard him correctly, on one of the cats.  My pick.

So, off to a new adventure.  I was going to ponder if I am in the midst of a terrible series of alphabet-named cancers (like hurricanes).  Cancer A dissipated in the Atlantic before it could become a Tropical Cancer (likely around the Tropic of Cancer - see what I did there?)  So, we started with Brain, then moved on to Colon.  I stopped pondering this when I tried to think of a "D".  Maybe it's possible and other D body parts exist, but tell me honestly guys, what is the first thing that comes to mind?  Yeah, me too.  Not funny after that.

Head, Colon, Knees and Toes, Knees and Toes

 I tried out lots of ideas for blog post titles.  

The other title that came closest: "Heads and Tails"

So, I got some unfortunate news yesterday.  Had my first colonoscopy this week, and was happy to have that completed.  It's a few years past when they suggest you first get one, but I had good excuses.  From age 50 to 52, I really didn't want to do it.  I mean, wholly and completely had no interest.  Then, my interest didn't improve, but came to the conclusion I probably should.  Soon after I came to that epiphany, boom, brain tumor.  Other priorities.  Still, something I need to do.  So I went to the gastroenterologist.  Started setting it up.  Then, boom, CoVid.  That, plus I was going through the bonus chemo.  The doc and I agreed it could wait.  But, bonus chemo ended.  Ban on non-critical medical procedures eased.  So, I persisted, and set up the procedure for this past Monday.

The preparation was as unpleasant as people warned me about.  I will not go into it here, or ever.  But I did it, got the procedure, and was feeling very proud of myself.  The doc removed some polyps and said he'd get back to me.  Or at least that's what Jill tells me.  They knock you out for the actual procedure, which is such a good idea.  And I was still very groggy for the debrief.

But I was not at all drugged yesterday when the doc called me and told me one of the smaller polyps had tested positive.  I have colon cancer.  That's all I know right now.  I think I will get a CT scan soon to see how serious it is, if it's early or late, likely get myself an extra oncologist, and then start looking at treatment options.  I think this will happen next week.

Since my blog has been mostly about cancer already, I don't think I need to move to a new blog for this.  So that's an upside.  I do wonder if I should change the name to cancerpieces.blogspot.com.  And for the record, I don't (think that I) have cancer of the knees or toes.  Just wanted a clever name to lighten a truly shitty week. Pun kinda intended.

The Four Utilities of the Apocalypse

 And you thought 2020 was difficult?  We are just on the other side of snow-pocalypse here in Texas.  Or as they called it - Winter Storm Uri.  

I'm going to have to stop you (technically me) right there.  When (THE FUCK) did we start naming winter storms?  And how did we get to "U" without me ever knowing this?  Apparently, here is the beginning* of the list of named winter storms for 2020-21:

• Abigail
• Billy
• Constance
• Dane
  
• Eartha
• Flynn
• Gail
• Harold
  
  

*Why only the beginning?  Because, to get the whole list, I would need to upgrade to Weather Channel Premium.  Which the app on my phone has been bugging me about for over a year.  And what do you get with Weather Channel Premium?  Besides of course, winter storms I through Z (and whatever alphabet comes next)?  My app tells me that I should upgrade to get the "actual forecast, not just an approximation based on historical data".  I kid you not.

And - Winter Storm Harold???  

"Harold, stop blowing snow and get in this house right now!  It's time for the Golden Girls marathon on Hulu!"

But apparently, after I (Ichabod), J (Jezebel), K (Karen - of course), LMNOP, Q (Quantas), R (Rumplestiltskin), S (Snickers), and T (Tad), there comes Winter Storm Uri. 

But wait, Russell, you said you had to upgrade to get all the names.  Well, yes, but I am a strong proponent of the "one month free and then unsubscribe" school.  Which is how I watched the Mandalorian.  And how I got 12 free cassette tapes from Columbia House. No, not recently.  In 2018.

Winter Storm Uri is a mean, vodka fueled storm that comes to disrupt your elections, and your power and water.

And in case you were wondering, "they" (the weather industrial complex) names all sorts of things.  Yesterday, I drove through Morning Fog Barbara.  The app is warning me about this Saturday's upcoming Light Sprinkle Marvin.  I know this because for the next 30 days I am a premium weather customer.  Let me know if you want a house specific forecast.  At least through March 31st.

And now, back to Uri.  

There's a bit of a social compact that goes along with living in Texas.  I mean, in addition to having to put up with the idiot-ist of politicians.  Texans agree to very very hot summers (over 150 days of 100+ degree temperatures last summer alone).  In return, we are spared harsh winters.  

Here's how this is supposed to work.  Every year, our tv weather people tell us 2 to 5 times that there is a "chance of snow, sleet, or freezing precipitation."  And every year, we don't get any snow, sleet, or freezing precipitation.  By the way - hail doesn't count.  We get our share of that in hot months (March to November).  I still don't understand sleet.  But I see that I can get one-on-one explanations from Al Roker on premium Weather Channel.  Need to remember to take advantage of that before April.  

This is sprinkled in with a once-in-every-five-years light dusting of snow.  Just enough to scrape enough off the cars to make a tiny, adorable snow person.  It is clearly part of the bargain that we should never see enough snow and ice to shut down the city (sure, the light dusting shuts us down, but that's because we all suck at winter).  Snow and ice that takes out power, water, and other utilities, closes our grocery stores and makes all roads impassable for nine days?  Oh, hell no.

Austin was below freezing for 144 hours.  The weather people (when I had power) told me that was a long time.  It started on a Thursday with cold.  We should have known we were in for trouble, as the power said "um, no.  Not going to do this."  Our power went out and the temp in the house dropped.  My brother saved us twice during Uri.  Thursday night we slept at his lake house, which had electricity (which includes heat).  By Friday evening, our house was back up.  Satrurday, we tossed a bunch of spoiled food and bought what we could.  HEB was already a bit, light, by then.  Sunday was when the actual snow and ice started. Electricity says "um, hell no.  See ya."  Went out from Sunday afternoon till late Monday.  This is when we realized that, for whatever reason, the gas stove needs electricity to run. Seems like a design flaw.  My grill was frozen, so we grazed on anything that was not spoiled (round 2) and that needed no cooking.  I did manage to heat water over the fireplace to make coffee.  Until the water went out Monday.

When we got electricity back, it stayed on, and we never were in danger of freezing to death.  And in a Jewish miracle, the firewood lasted two days, so that when our heat came back on, I still had four pieces left.  Note: a minor Jewish miracle, at best.

So by Tuesday - electricity on, water off.  Oh, and internet was down the entire time.  I read a couple of books.  And spent the rest of my time harvesting ice and snow and melting it, just so that we could flush the toilets.

The ice cleared a bit by Friday (day 8), so Jill and I trudged through the snow and ice to the local HEB, that had literally nothing on the shelves.  And a long line of people waiting for that nothing.  On Sunday, after a week without a shower, I checked in with my brother. The lake house was also without water, but the downtown condo was aqueous.  And the roads were just passable enough for a trip downtown for a shower.

Water came back the next day, and the boil water notice expired two days later.  Internet came back two days after that, so our utilities are all better.

We survived Uri with mostly inconveniences, compared to others who had serious issues.  Well, my car did die, but I was eventually able to revive it.

So, I have to ask, what comes after global pandemic, Cheeto Voldemort, and Austin's 100-year winter storm?  I tend to think it's probably a river of blood, or the slaying of the firstborn, but I am kinda hoping for a rain of frogs. That would be cooler.

I am 100% certain we are approaching end times (ok, 93%, since Judaism is old testament).  But I admit I should have seen this coming.  We moved offices late last year, as we are expanding in Austin, and I moved my admin staff out of the current site to give them more client services space.  When we were looking for space, three of the four offices we looked at were completely furnished, with desks, chairs, personal items, and all office amenities.  In one space, there was a cellphone on a desk, and in another (I swear this is possibly true), a steaming cup of coffee on a counter.  From my limited understanding of Kirk Cameron movies, I believe a bunch of insurance agents, marketing reps, and credit union employees got raptured.  So, my question is - "is it a good or bad idea to take over an office where the former occupants got raptured?  And if they come back, are we required to vacate the premises?  It means they didn't make it to heaven, right?  Seems like we get to keep the office in that case.

But anyway, we are doing fine now.  Thanks for asking.

You've Lost that racist president, whoa-oh, that racist president

 I feel practically giddy today.  Even a widespread phishing attack on my employees can't get me down.

Today, somebody sent emails to all my staff, with a variation of:

Hello Katie,

Hope you don't have so much on your plate? Well in case you do, please
peg it because i have a task for you to carry out urgently.

Drop your number so i can brief you about it all.

Thanks,Russell Smith
Chief Executive Officer at Refugee Services of Texas

Sent from IPhone.

I let my staff know that this wasn't from me, and that I don't even know how one "pegs it".  Two people thought it was adorable I didn't know what that meant and both told me emphatically not to google it.  

But, feeling light and less burdened by racist presidents, I went over to my aol account.  The one I've had for 25 years, since that cd arrived in the mail.  The one that is so infested with spam and viruses, I wear gloves and a facemask whenever I open it.  I then sent this e-mail to the emphatically not my e-mail address that the original email came from.

Russell,

I got your e-mail and tried to call you, but there was no answer.  Can you send me a number where I can reach you?

Katie

Not sure what I'll do if this person sends me a phone number. 

But then, I thought, perhaps there was an even better way to screw with this person.  So I did some googling (avoiding "peg it"), and found a couple of numbers to give out the next time someone e-mails and asks for a phone number.  I've called them both, and they are 100% legit.  Feel free to use them on scammers, spammers, creepers, or whoever.

• (646) 926-6614: The Mary Sue Rejection Hotline, which will say, “Oh hello there. If you’re hearing this message, you’ve made a woman feel unsafe and/or disrespected. Please learn to take no for an answer and respect women’s emotional and physical autonomy. K THANKKS.” Best of all, it’ll send texts as well, and waits an hour to send the text once it’s received one so you have time to bounce.
  
• (719) 266-2837: Call and Oates, which lets callers pick a classic Hall and Oates song to play.

This Moderna World

 Just got the Moderna vaccine - 1st dose! Sorry, no vaccine selfies. I have a couple of underlying conditions that put me in Group 1B, and on a routine doctor visit (for one of the underlying conditions) this morning, they said they had it available. And would I like it? Um, yes!!!

My PA told me she would check and see if they had any left, as they had been going quickly. The only discomfort I felt was that three-minute wait to find out that yes, they indeed had a dose for me. I think I remember massive needles from childhood vaccinations. And all of the Facebook vaccinations I have seen seem to include long, painful-looking needles. And though I have had a couple of flu shots in recent years that were easy peasy, I also had a spinal tap in 2019 that was objectively awful. So, my needle experience runs the gamut.

But, the nurse wiped my shoulder, then gave me my vaccination and said, "that's it." I asked her twice - "you sure?" I honestly didn't feel anything. I thought maybe I'm in some placebo control group, where they wipe your arm with an alcohol wipe, put a Band-Aid on, and then follow you to see if just the idea of getting vaccinated keeps me safe from CoVid. But I don't remember signing up for that, so I am mostly confident I am now half-vaccinated for CoVid. And by the way, the needle in the Moderna promotional pic is 1000x scarier than whatever they used on me, assuming they did.

And I will be fully vaccinated by Valentine's Day. But since Jill is still waiting for her vaccination, no big Valentine's Day plans. Maybe we can shoot for St. Patrick's Day date night. Like we used to! Getting dunk at an Irish Bar, peeing in an alley, passing out in the yard. Though I don't think we (or I) ever did that. Maybe that memory is one of the side effects I should report (assuming I got the actual vaccine). And actually, a President's Day date night sounds better, as it really seems like Cheeto Voldemort will finally go the fuck away. Hopefully without burning the whole place down, but away!

One interesting thing - Facebook is already showing me ads for travel and dining experiences for my "post vaccine world." Maybe there is a Zuckerberg/Clinton/Soros tracking device in my left shoulder now.

Oh 2021. How much I needed you.