Belmont!

Congratulations to Jeanne for making it, Zowie, end of treatment, feeling good, looking good, Man I wish I coulda made that party! Send the pics! I think some of the dance moves from 8th grade were named after Red Sox, because I remember Foy! I think we had to tone it down after some of the gangs took offense at having dance moves named for them. There were some negotiations in there, I remember, involving me and the parking lot and some Belmont-types. Thank God for quick hands and feet.

Pretty smooth week, if we ignore young Mikey burning his feet so bad at Wednesday’s end of school picnic that he is still laid up. Poor kid’s feet looked like the sausage they made in Colminares for the annual festival, all swollen and red. This is not the first time, and I have to reevaluate the ability of pain to teach a good lesson; it usually worked for me, but now that I think about it and look at the scars on my head, I suppose I missed a few lessons too.

Cindy Steen came all the way from DC to visit, popped in on us for a few days, and Rita and her girls and friends came from Atwater, and young John was in heaven for a while. Surrounded! We BBQ’d, had a bonfire on the beach, had a great time. Happy Birthday Cindy! How gutsy do you have to be to go to Uganda for 3 weeks, then move to Nicaragua for 4 years, as a single female? Such courage. Uganda was Idi Amin, remember him?

Speaking of pain, last Thursday’s spinal tap and injection was as smooth as butter. All I ever felt was the initial local shot; I won the sciatic nerve lottery! In and out of there faster than Brad Pitt with a costar! Last one coming up this Thursday, and Phase III goes into pills only mode. I may be sick and tired of this chemo bloat and dead hands and feet, but it keeps getting easier, and my blood counts are all good if slightly anemic. It’s time to hit the gym and recover some of the strength I need to get in the water, and maybe drive a golf ball more than 200 yards.

Golfed Wednesday, shot 93 at Morro Bay from the blues. Eeeeennhhh. The new Happy Father’s Day Here I am at the Golf Store and Oh Look that is the putter I want on sale - I guess the kids are getting this For Me Putter I got, the White Hot 2-Ball Odyssey, did not save me. Turns out I still have to use my skill with it, and that tones the magic down, something about the lack of fingers and hands holding the club or something. Don’t the great putters say they putt with dead hands? Doesn’t work.

Played 14 holes on Friday – county courses here are $8 after 5:30, and you can play now until 8:15 or later, so Mike B. went out and played the Bay from the whites, 43 on the front nine, not bad. Then Sunday I went and played with the dedicated golfers, guys with 8 handicaps and 540 cc drivers, at Dairy Creek from the tips, the gold tees. Course kicks my ass. 4-iron all day for second shots. Enough wind at the 183 yard par-3 I am hitting driver and coming up short. Shot a 97, 1 better than the last time I played Dairy from the blues. Flat out ran out of gas on the back nine again, but made enough adjustment (played like a 75-year old) to weather it.

It was hard not to feel depressed, because at one level I am feeling pretty good and expecting things to come back. However, I am one weak-ass dude; Randy’s kids could beat me up. Vinnie could make me beg for mercy (don’t do it). I think I am starting to look like Kurtz at the end of Apocalypse Now, white and bloaty. I am pretty sure when I stop taking the steroid for brain swelling the bloat will go away (today I stop I hope). That is a bad combo reaction from steroids, they make you gas up and have you eating like a pig. Saturday was Dana’s schools end-of-year BBQ, and I had some of everything, twice. She sure works with a fun bunch of teachers, and they are good cooks too.

Speaking of BBQs, I will get an email out today saying July 2 is a go, now that I know Vinnie can’t make that date to beat me up. Too bad we had to lose Pat and Mo in the bargain, but the image of Mikey trying to defend me by hitting Vinnie with sausage feet didn’t jibe, something about all the juices popping out of his toes …..

I have always wanted to put a practice putting green in the backyard, and Dana has always said No Way, it’s too small. However, I realized recently that the land on the other side of the community fence line is ours, with a creek easement. This area was all overgrown, but has a couple of small oaks, a sycamore, and some other shrubs. So I started clearing it out, and it looks like it could fit the bill, a kind of secret garden area. I don’t know about a putting green, we’ll see. Anybody out there have one, any tips?