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.

A Hanukkah Miracle

We have had quite a few questions from people who have received our holiday letter.  Well, mainly one question.  “Who is Allie? And actually, quite a few theories/guesses. To wit:

Is Allie the triplet you told me about?  I remember a story of ya'll having three, but realizing you could only afford two and gave one away.  Or maybe sold one for scientific experimentation?  Did she find her way home?

In this CoVid year, so many people are adopting new pets.  Did ya'll take that one step further?

Is that the new cat tender you hired?

And even-is this an odd, 2020, CoVid, Zoom prank, adding a random extra kid into your Brady Bunch holiday card to confuse and amuse your friends and family?

All good theories.  But sadly, all wrong.

The correct answer is, of course, "Allie?  What the hell are you talking about?"

Mundane Dreams

 On Sunday, I finished round 12 of max bonus chemo.  Temodar, the Chemo Teller, is once again quiet.  Based on how the earlier rounds have gone, sometime around Thanksgiving I should be back to a semblance of "normal".  And this being the last round of chemo for now, there is a possibility that the normal period will go on for a period of time.  A Year?  Maybe two?  Based on what I've got, it's not something that is beaten back and we keep an eye on it to ensure it doesn't come back.  My Chevy Astro Cytoma will act up again, with the questions being when and how.  And after the when and how comes the "what next?"  Radiate, rinse, repeat?  Cyber knife?  Cyber bully?  Some new cool nanite technology?  Brain transplant?  [less likely].  

Just need to plow forward, and take things as they come.  Between the last two rounds, I had a series of mundane dreams again.  These were not about weirdly constructed hotels or polite visiting Unitarians, like last year.  The two I remember were about Spotty and fried chicken.

A few weeks back I had a very convincing dream that I had gotten a a new dog.  She was small, white, and fluffy.  She had black marks on her tummy, and I named her Spotty.  Not sure how I knew this,  but Spotty was a very good dog.

Then last week, I had a very vivid dream where I was talking to Alex on the phone, and walking her through how to fry chicken.  She has been cooking a lot in New Orleans in her apartment, between hurricanes, and apparently it was time to fry some chicken.  From the two or three times I have fried chicken at home, I even think it was fairly sound instructions.  I remember telling her to soak the pieces in buttermilk, for example.

The next day I called her.  If she had actually fried chicken in the last couple of days, I believe that would have been sufficient proof of a new superpower.  Chef Mentale! Able to dream about what people are cooking.  About as useful as Super Doppler, but you take the superpowers that are offered.

Unfortunately, no chicken had been fried by Alex or any of her roommates.  She had recently fried some plantains, but even though I have done that before, Chef Mentale was clearly talking chicken.

So, 12 rounds of chemo are in the books.  And then yesterday was my 55th birthday.  "I can survive....  FIF-ty FIVE!"  Which is the bastardized version of a terrible song by either Sammy Hagar or David Lee Roth that has been going through my head.  I'd look it up, but I don't want to give it the attention.  I just want it to go away.

I was not feeling fantastic, so I took 1/2 day off work, lay on my new couch, ate Tiff's Treats (thanks Joyce, Susanne, and the folks at AGE!), and watched what can only be described as the perfect antidote to this awful year.  I found the movie "Pick of the Litter" on Amazon Prime.  It was a documentary following five black and yellow Labrador puppies from birth to about 1 year, as they are trained to be potential Guide Dogs for the Blind.  Not all of them are chosen, and sadly, the rest are put down.  NO!!  That would be a terrible, awful, no good movie.  The ones that don't make it become breeders, or pets, or go back to their trainers.  This was a 90 minute movie about very good, enormously cute labs, some of whom (I won't spoil it for you) become amazing Guide Dogs.  Trust me, see this movie.  You need it.  We all need it.

It wasn't included on Amazon Prime, so I had to spend $3.99 to rent it.  Jill gets notices anytime someone buys something on our Amazon Prime account ("that's a lot of haircare products for someone who was bald a year ago".  It's aspirational).  

I texted her about my amazing movie find, and she responded:

"Good, from the email I got, I thought maybe you had bought a dog on Amazon."

"Yes, a $3.99 dog from Amazon, to be delivered in the next few weeks, is exactly what I ordered."

I can get away with the sarcasm because it was my birthday.  And, you know, brain tumor.

And now I realize I actually do have a set of mundane dreams for 2021.  Nothing huge, just some small, mundane hopes and wishes:

1) the removal, voluntary or otherwise, of Cheeto Voldemort from the presidency, the news, our lives, and all of the other spaces he fills so profanely.

2) the distribution of one or more CoVid vaccines so that we can start to extricate from the pandemic.

3) several months, if not years, of stability in my Chevy Astrocytoma, accompanied by the lack of a need to do other treatments.

4) a growing "better" feeling as I get further away from this last round of chemo.

5) Twina and Twinby able to go back safely to college and re-start their college experiences.

6) and assuming 2,3, and 4 happen, maybe some travel, some dining out, some date nights, some of life pre May 2019 (for me, for most of ya'll it's life pre March 2020).

7) And, as it is becoming more and more apparent, maybe a new dog.  Named Spotty perhaps.

Smith Babes

 My amazing daughters have a text chain going.  They named the group "Smith Babes", which somehow included me.  Jill was eventually added, and so far I have not been booted.  

Here, in three (ish) acts, are tales of the Smith Babes

Running out of Alphabets

Alex is in New Orleans, finishing up a hybrid semester at Loyola, living in an apartment and taking mostly on-line courses.  Certainly, she's just a few blocks away from the school, but much of her school is still virtual.

Even the classes that are in-person have been disrupted by the 53 named storms that have landed in or around New Orleans this year.  She has actually been very fortunate, as it was only the recent Hurricane Zeta that hit New Orleans directly, taking out power for the city.  

Having run out of A-Z names, and finishing up the Greek alphabet, I am left to wonder what's next in the taxonomy?  Sanscrit?  I honestly believe I could do this better.  They skipped a whole bunch of English letters - like X, Y and Z.  Xavier?  Yolanda?  Zachary?  Zoom? Hurricane Zoom is the perfect distillation of 2020.  And then, like Excel, shouldn't Hurricanes go into the double letters?  Hurricane Aaron.  Hurricane BB King. Hurricane CeeCee.  Hurricane DeeDee.  Hurricane EE Cummings.  Hurricane French Fry.  Hurricane GiGi.  Hurricane Hubert Humphrey.  This is not that hard.  All of these are preferable to "Hurricane Nana."  I want this job.

Our Lady of Lake Travis University

Abby was not able to go back to Trinity this fall, but was able to move out to my brother's lake house with my niece Hannah and another displaced college student to join a collective distance learning cooperative.  It sucks that she isn't able to be back in San Antonio, but it has certainly been nicer for her than the alternative Smith House Community College.

She is working on getting dorm housing for the spring, with a backup being long-term stay in a hotel for the spring.  I was thinking about how much fun that sounds is entirely dependent upon how old you are.  The 20 year-old me might have enjoyed that for a month, maybe two.  The now me thinks that I would hate this within four days.

Tracking Varmints

Kaileigh is in the midst of her next research project - tracking the efficacy of aerial vaccines to inoculate racoons and oppossums in South Carolina against a specific form of rabies.  She loves the work, and is living her best life.  I worry that with only a few days left before the election, the president might hear about this and decide to have the Air Force fly over cities dropping hydroxychloroquine, or Windex, or whatever.  But who am I kidding?  She is engaged in a scientific study, so no way it comes anywhere near him.  

Speaking of Kaileigh and voting, I got this exact text this week:

"Hi Russell, this is Josh with TX Dems - thanks for casting your ballot!  Public records say you may live with Kaileigh who hasn't voted yet.  Can you make a plan with them to vote?"

Several things here.  First - kudos to Josh for not assuming which pronouns Kaileigh prefers.  And kudos to the democrats for their ground game and use of data to support get out the vote efforts to remove the orange pestilence from the White House.

But, holy fuck!  Josh knew that I voted, that Kaileigh hadn't yet, and that she gets her mail sent to our house (Josh was a bit off there).  There is way too much accessible info about us out there.

As evidenced by his follow-up text two days later:

"Hi Russell, this is Josh with TX Dems again.  I saw that you had take-out at Mi Amigo food truck on St. John's.  How are their carnitas tacos?"

Rain, Sally, Rain!

 "Hurricane Sally!  You know you've got to slow your top speeds down."

A third tropical storm glanced past New Orleans, where my Alex is just trying to take classes from a distance.  Not bothering anyone.  As far as we know.  

We took her back to school last month, to a new apartment with most of our old living room furniture.  CoVid home renovation backlog means that our new living room furniture could be still a few months.  Add three more weeks for the cats to destroy the new couch, and a week after that for me to find a place to leave one or both of them far far away where they will never find us again*, and we are at Christmas.  Time goes so fast.

Abby was seriously considering college in Portland, and got accepted to Lewis & Clark before ultimately deciding last year on Trinity.  So, we almost sent both twins to live in separate matryoshka stacking disaster dolls.  Rampant wildfires / hurricanes inside a global pandemic inside a world being destroyed by cheeto Voldemort.  Have to say I am done with 2020.

Starting round 10 of max bonus chemo tonight.  Have a finish line in sight - at least for the Chemo - Sunday, November 15, 2020 is my last dose.  For those of you keeping count at home.  And who, like me, have created a color-coded spreadsheet to track the all-powerful Temodar, the Chemo Seer. November 15th will be my 60th dose over 12 months of the bonus chemo, totaling 79.3 pounds of poison. Though that doesn't look exactly right.  Might be closer to 100 pounds.  

Saw the doctor today and reviewed my last MRI.  We seem to be in a phase of "examine the spots."  I had three spots last time.  One is gone, one is getting smaller (mostly gone), and one is getting larger.  Seemingly all three Goldilocks outcomes at once.  The one getting larger can mean anything from nothing at all to something.  And Dr. V was characteristically circumspect on what he thinks.  So I am getting another MRI next month, I think moving up a Tesla or 2.  And then, nothing. Or something, whatever that looks like.  

All you want to do is rain and blow, Sally! Rain, Sally, Rain!

*to be fair, the girl cat could "Incredible Journey" her way home, but the orange boy cat has no chance.  And Elsie don't take no passengers.

My next career

 I lived in Houston for 15 years.  Early on, I ran across "Russell and Smith" Ford.  Someone even gave me a hat from the dealership.  At some point, they morphed into Russell and Smith Honda.

I always thought that at some point I would run for office in Houston. Wasn't sure of what I would run for, but I did know two things: 1) my platform would be simple - "if elected, I will take away your guns."; and 2) My slogan would be "Russell A. Smith, The Name You Know."  I would find the closest approximation to the car dealer's font, and I would make a lot of yard signs and bumper stickers.  This being Texas, and enough people not taking any time to actually learn about candidates, I believe I could have gotten lots of votes by name recognition alone.  My middle name is "Alan", but it could stand for "And" or "Ampersand", right?  Yes, friends from Houston.  I know that the dealership is named after Bubba Russell and Jehoshaphat Smith.  [ok, the Bubba one I know, the other I kinda made up].  But this just proves my point, right?  

But the other day, one of my staff members sent me a picture of a business in Fort Worth, that made me reconsider the signs from the universe.

There is a Russell Smith Auto in Fort Worth!  My destiny is not in sneaking into winning election as Hide Inspector for Harris County, Texas. My destiny is clearly in statewide auto dealership dominance.  My name clearly is synonymous with quality vehicle sales and service.   

Russell Ampersand Smith, the auto dealer you know and trust!

And I Feel Fine

 For fucking fuck's sake.  Sorry, I had to fucking get that out.  I'll taper off the fucks.  

But seriously?  Didn't we have enough to deal with with CoVid, Murder Hornets, and fucking Cheeto Voldemort?  I know, I promised.  Freaking Cheeto Voldemort?

Dry lightning and fire tornadoes in California?

And now, introducing the sixth horseman of the apocalypse - the "Telenovela Days of Our Lives Hurricanes." (TM).  See, it's like Luke and Laura, but it's Marco and Laura.  

I'm not sure if I have the correct shout-out to my stories here.  Might have been General Hospital.  But I read that they had to construct a CoVid tent in the parking lot as overflow.

Just moved Alex back to New Orleans, so this feels personal.  But then, looks like New Orleans is safe and Houston is in danger.  Where Jill's sister and dad, and my mom and stepfather live.  

This is divine punishment for rejoicing about Alex Jones' untreated syphilis, isn't it?

On the plus side, it does seem like Luke and Laura are keeping appropriate social and meteorological distance.  So there is that.

Being Jewish, Revelations was not in our testament. Will someone tell me if the end times are nigh.  Kinda feels like it.  

F*ck. (better, right?)

A Reminder Plea

 

First, a re-print of a 2016 post.  Then a gentle reminder of the last several terrible years.

1) Post from 2016

FRIDAY, MARCH 25, 2016

That Will Go on Your Permanent Record

To my friends and family who are starting to possibly maybe kinda sorta think about voting for Donald Trump.  Don't.  I say this as a friend.  Or as a relative.  And it's not for my sake, it's for yours.

See, I will never know if you do.  Unless you start posting your Trump love all over Facebook.  But then, I would have un-friended you long ago.  Or un-related you.

No - this is a plea to those who don't particularly like Donald Trump, but who really hate Hillary.  Who have a visceral reaction to just hearing someone say "Hillary."  Who can't even watch documentaries about Sir Edmund Hillary without getting enraged.

I am not going to try to convince you not to hate the "H" (though yoga and meditation would help).

I am here with a recommendation, for your sake.

Don't vote.  Do not go on the record as voting for the narcissistic, fascist, racist opportunist.  There is no amount of self-talk that you can give yourself that will justify voting for him.  You will always know that your reasons are full of shit.

"But Russell," you say.  "I REALLY hate she-who-shall-not-be-named."

"Fair enough," I reply.  "Don't vote for her.  Don't vote for President."

"This is just some clever ploy to help Democrats win the White House."

"Interesting theory.  However: a) I am not that clever; 2) I don't believe influencing my tens of readers will make any difference; and iii) there is no chance that my candidate will win here in Texas, even if I could convince thousands of people to stay home."

"I'm still not convinced.  Did I mention I REALLY DESPISE her?"

Let me put it this way.  Say it's primary season for the 2020 election.  Imagine that the Democrats nominate....say....Michael Moore.  Or Sean Penn.  Same logic applies.  I would not vote for President that year.  Even against the Cruz / Carson ticket (though it might look diverse - they both come from the batshit crazy wing of the party).  And I REALLY dislike both of them (hate is a strong word).  I would not vote for candidate Penn because it would make me feel dirty.  And stupid.

[Note: this doesn't apply to a John Stewart / Al Franken ticket - I'd totally vote for them.]

My response to "anybody is better than H" is "No.  Not President Trump."

And you know this.

2) Some recent history

March 30, 2011 – Donald Trump was a vocal proponent of the “birther” myth, claiming Barack Obama was not born in the United States. In 2011, Trump told Bill O’Reilly, “If you are going to be president of the United States you have to be born in this country. And there is a doubt as to whether or not he was… He doesn’t have a birth certificate. He may have one, but there’s something on that, maybe religion, maybe it says he is a Muslim. I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t want that. Or he may not have one. But I will tell you this. If he wasn’t born in this country, it’s one of the great scams of all time.” In response to the “birther” conspiracy theory, the State of Hawaii released Barack Obama’s short- and long-form birth certificate.

"I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything. Grab them by the pussy. You can do anything.”

“But her e-mails!”

"When Mexico sends its people, they're not sending the best. They're not sending you, they're sending people that have lots of problems and they're bringing those problems. They're bringing drugs, they're bringing crime. They're rapists and some, I assume, are good people, but I speak to border guards and they're telling us what we're getting."

“But the conservative judges!”

April 13, 2020 – Trump held a 2½-hour news conference in which he attacked the press. “You know you’re a fake,” he told one reporter. “Everything we did was right,” he said. He also incorrectly said that the power to reopen the country rested solely with him, not governors. “When somebody is the president of the United States,” he said, “the authority is total, and that’s the way it’s got to be.”

“But AOC!”

 February 11, 2017 – Donald Trump claimed without evidence that 3 million illegal votes went to Hillary Clinton in the 2016 election. Politifact and Snopes have both debunked the claim—with Snopes saying “the ‘3 million non-citizens’ may just as well have been plucked out of thin air.” The number appeared to originate from an InfoWars article which sought to explain why Donald Trump lost the popular vote by 2.9 million votes.

“But Hillary!”

January 27, 2017 – Donald Trump signed what would become known as the ”travel ban,” an executive order which imposed a 90-day ban on citizens from seven Muslim-majority countries from entering the United States, while also indefinitely halting incoming refugees from Syria. Trump’s travel ban still allowed travelers from other Muslim-majority countries where he held extensive business interests, such as Saudi Arabia and Turkey.

“But socialism!”

May 16, 2018 – The Senate judiciary committee released 2,500 pages of testimony with Donald Trump Jr. and top aides who met with Russian delegates at Trump Tower in 2016, providing evidence of collusion between Donald Trump’s 2016 presidential campaign and Russia. Sen. Mark R. Warner (D-Virginia) stated, “Our staff concluded that the … conclusions were accurate and on point. The Russian effort was extensive, sophisticated, and ordered by President Putin himself for the purpose of helping Donald Trump and hurting Hillary Clinton.”

“Bengazi!!!”

June 15, 2018 – Following the Trump administration’s “zero tolerance” policy announced in April 2018, The Department of Homeland Security stated that between April 19 to May 31, 2018, at the Mexico–United States border, there were 1,995 migrant children separated from 1,940 adults being held for criminal prosecution for an illegal border crossing. Trump blamed the Democrats, tweeting, “The Democrats are forcing the breakup of families at the Border with their horrible and cruel legislative agenda.”

“But Mexico will pay for the border wall!”

This is just a tiny fraction of the arguments for and against Cheeto Voldemort.  Volumes could be written on the norms he has broken, the systems he has destroyed, the idiots he put in power (special shout-out to Betsy DeVoss and Ben Carson), and the long-lasting and likely permanent damage he has done to our democracy, our values, and our institutions.  But, he “tells it like it is.” Except that it is mostly lies. 

So, dear friends and family members.  I will repeat what I said in 2016.  You know you cannot and should not vote for the narcissistic, racist, know-nothing rapist.  Or as he likes to refer to himself, the “stable genius.”

Joe is not Hillary.  Fox News hasn’t been working as long on creating a Skinnerian stimulus-response to “Joe” like it did for “Hillary.”  And I can feel some of you clinching just reading the “H” word.  Feel free to not vote.  But if you go on the record as voting for this terrible person twice, I fear for your soul. 

A Banner 4th

Actually, a full banner month.  If, by "banner", one means "full of things."  What does "banner" mean when attached to an event or time period?  Well, of course the internet knows this.  It's something so exceptional that one would fly a banner or big sign.  And of course, the internet then led me to antonyms.com, to find the opposite of a Banner 4th.  Lots of choices, but my favorite is execrable, followed by wretched.  So, choose you own headline after reading:  Banner or Execrable?

I'll start way back, in mid-June.  I have been slowly catching up on all of the non-tumor related medical care that I have been putting off to deal with, well, tumor-related medical care.  It's been fairly standard stuff, but I do have to say I was both surprised and  mostly horrified by the Zoom colonoscopy my gastro set up.  Mainly, I have been finishing up some dental work on a couple of teeth.  Getting near the end - my endodontist endodonted; I healed from that; my dentist took impressions (or at least that's the impression I get), and sent away for two crowns to be done.  Late June was the final visit, where new crowns meet teeth who are in need of crowns, and everyone lives happily ever after.  The appointment was for Thursday, June 25th.  I remember it like it was a week and a half ago.

The afternoon before the appointment, I got a call from the sheepish-sounding office manager.

"Mr. Smith, I am calling about your appointment tomorrow."
"Yes, thanks for calling to remind me.  I will be there with bells on.  I put the bells on the teeth that need the crowns so the dentist could remember.  Though I imagine she knows which teeth she will be working on."
"About that."
"She doesn't?"
"No.  I mean yes, she does.  But the thing is, your crowns have not arrived."
"I thought my coronation was confirmed for tomorrow."  [I really thought that would get a laugh.  It did not.]
"Well, the lab sent your crowns, but it seems like UPS may have lost them."
"Wait, I know this one.  Likely they told you they can't find them.  They won't say they lost them, but they said something like 'they consider them lost'."
"That's it.  Almost word for word."
"So, we have to redo all the impressions (that's the impression I get), and send them back to the lab, right?"
"Yes.  Unfortunately."
"The thing you don't know yet is that we will do this, make new crowns, put them in, and THEN the originals will show up, after having sat in a Killeen warehouse for a month."
"Probably."
"So, can I hang onto the bonus, lost crowns?  Especially the gold one?"
It was at this point David decided he had imparted what he needed to and promised to call to reschedule.  Which he hasn't, but my beef is not with David.

It's with UPS.  What the hell?  I have never had any significant issues with the USPS or with FedEx, but UPS seems to be run by idiots.  Did I miss something, like the president bought it ("TrUmPS")?

FedEx has been flawless.  They can deliver my monthly poison to my front door in 4 1/2 hours.  It takes almost as much time going through the monthly pharmacy Q&A as it does to get the chemo to my house.

A few days before chemo starts, the pharmacy calls me to confirm and schedule.  The nice woman (likely a different one each time), asks me the same questions.

Confirms name, DOB, address.  Confirms Jill as my emergency contact and that they can call her if they need to talk to someone.  Jill is a lovely person to talk to, but I'm never quite sure why the prescribing pharmacy needs my next of kin.  But whatever.
"We are sending you 20 100-mg pills of Temodar (aka the Chemo Teller), correct?"
"Yes you are."
"Mr. Smith, your co-pay for this is $0.  This is just an estimate, and know that it might change when we run it through your insurance."

Side note:  the second time I had this call (I've done seven now), I went the smart-ass route.  "Tell me about it.  You quoted me that price last time, and the bastards tripled it."  This was both uncalled for, and counter-productive, as it moved her into a different, longer script about drug pricing.  I try to amuse people, but often they just don't want to be amused.

So, round seven: "Understood."

"You don't have any medication left over do you?"
"No."
"Did your doctor ask you to skip any doses?"
"No."
"Did your doctor ask you to hold any of it?"
"Um, no. [thought-bubble] - "isn't that the same question?]
"Did you skip any doses?"
"No.  Just that one.  But to be fair I didn't want to take it."

Side note #2 - no, I did not.  I have already gauged her level of interest in being amused (and determined it to be "very very low"), and this entire line of questioning makes me believe there is some side black market for chemo drugs.  They can ask me the same question eight ways every month, and I will swallow my own smart-assery.

But once we get through the questions, she activates FedEx, and the chemo drugs arrive forthwith.  Depending on the pharmacy's mood, they show up either with or without ice in the package.  I'm not supposed to chill them, so not sure why that changes month to month.  But again, whatever.  It also has these scary warnings all over the packaging about the toxicity of the contents.  Yes, that's the point.  By the way, I've saved all of that and will be wrapping Xmas presents in "Bio Hazard" wrapping this year.  You are all welcome.  The packaging clearly tells me, in no uncertain terms, and in four languages, not to flush the contents.  Well, that's a question they never asked.  "Did you flush any of the chemo drugs you have been hoarding down the toilet, which eventually will find its way into the ocean, thus endangering the fish population and possibly the future of humanity?"  "No."

Fast forward a bit, perhaps three days.

This came in the mail:

I sold a handful of books (on-line pdf copies), and got a $25 check.  I immediately quit my day job.

No, but I did get an inquiry from a publisher.  So I am well on my way to being a famous author.  And by inquiry, I mean that this dude sent me a request to be his LinkedIn BFF.  These days, the vast majority of LinkedIn requests are from people trying to sell me something, so I knew better.  But I actually set up a call with him.  We chatted, and his publishing company could help with design, editorial, printing and marketing of Corner Pieces.  Digging into the numbers he quoted, they would print 2,000 - 3,000 copies and help with marketing.  If we sold them at $15-$20 each, I'd get about $4 a book.  And I'd only have to put $25,000 of my own money into this.  But, if somehow we were able to sell out all 3,000 copies, I could make almost half of that investment back.  That is a tremendous deal.  I'm fine with my $25 check.

Four days and six hours later, I started bonus round 7 of chemo.  Finished it in five days (though I did skip one, hold onto the drugs, and flush half of them.  I don't eat fish, so no worries.  Recovery was a tiny bit harder, but I did recover.  Only five more rounds to go, not factoring all the times I plan to skip.

Now, jump ahead a week.  Last Wednesday.  Jill saw a post about a heeler dog who needed a home.  His human was going into assisted living.  We had the best heeler ever (Blossom), and thought we'd take a chance.  This is Zack.

Zack stayed with us Thursday through today.  He is a very good dog.  The problem is the very bad cats.  We have enough animal drama that we eventually decided that adding even a very good dog was potential chaos.  The good news is that on the way to take Zack back to his foster family, Jill got a message asking her to re-route him to another family who is adopting him.  So, we will miss Zack, but likely will hold off on adding any new mammals till we fix the current ones.

And then there was the Banner / Execrable July 4th.  Yesterday, feeling mostly better after bonus round 7, I went out for a bike ride on the 4th of July.  Started early-ish, but did 26 miles, so still finished when it was in the 90's.  Had a bit of a shaky start.  Headed down Jollyville and was going to turn left on Duval.  [don't worry if you don't know Austin streets.  Just know that Jollyville around Duval was where I had my Honda Fit encounter, almost exactly two years ago. ] I crossed to the turning lane only after confirming there was no cars coming.  The problem was that it was a very long light, longer than I ever remembered.  Just as it was about to finally turn, I hear the squealing of very close tires, and turn to see a massive black pickup screeching to a halt behind me.  It was a little unnerving, but didn't quite feel like my annual near-death experience.  Though as I turned, a cyclist turning onto Jollyville called out, "Man, he almost hit you."  So maybe that was my 2020 near-death experience.  Sadly, the wall poster I made of "Years Without a Near Death Experience" goes back down to "0".  And I had just changed it to 1!

Continuing on the ride, I head toward this neighborhood off Balcones Woods that has a nice 5-mile loop.  As I am cruising through the neighborhood, a lot of the residents were sitting in chairs on their lawns.  About halfway through the loop I figured out why, as I ended up as part of the Balcones Woods Neighborhood Association July 4th parade.  It was two golf carts, a tractor pulling a flat-bed that had two little blond kids and a golden retriever, two teenagers on ATV's and me.  I parade waved through the neighborhood and continued on my route.

I then popped on this paved trail that took me from Balcones District Park to Walnut Creek Park.  All the parks are closed now because of CoVid, so there were no humans in either.  There was this guy, though.

He walked right over, stood there for an unnerving amount of time, and then actually kept inching closer.  I took off when it was clear he was about to climb up on the bike.  The parks have only been closed a couple of days.  I can't imagine the lack of humans leaving their food and garbage everywhere causes the squirrel population to starve in 72 hours.  I wonder if the squirrels mark July 4th on their little squirrel calendars as a day to find and hoard discarded fried chicken, spoiled potato salad, and other delicacies for the long, hot summer.

Squirrel!