RDCanecutter

That was my life for a couple of years. A friend opened a store 15 miles away. How long did it take to drive there and visit? About a month if you've got the non-stop shits. I would sometimes take several days to mail a package (post office 1/2 mile away) because on the way there I Could Tell It Was Coming. Turn around, clench up, try to get inside to the toilet. At some point they switched my meds. Shits went back to normal. Maybe something similar will happen to you. Or maybe I'll go back to shit-inducing meds. This stuff is nothing if not interesting.

The first go-round where they thought I had 5 pounds of Stage 2 tumor, and I woke up with tubes coming out my guts hooked up to "bing" machines, yeah it was kinda depressing. We'd been binge-watching a 1960s TV show and all I could think about was how many of the actors had keeled over from cancer. Everything about it was depressing and worrisome. Then two years later it turned out that I actually had Stage 4 all along and we went into full Red Alert mode, then came the first scans and the new drugs were working? Happy Time. Quit all the regular jobs that made me unhappy, turned totally to stuff I liked. I mean, what else are the options? Banzai.

Thanks Carl. It's mostly through pure brute force. In my 6th Scottish Zoom class now, and started up my Duolingo lessons again, testing out of levels until I hit one I couldn't fake my way through and now the green owl haunts me on my phone. Did make a minor breakthrough-- when the instructors send emails they are typically in Gaelic with an English translation farther down. Last time I didn't need the translation at all, except for one weird old Gaelic word: Sùm. It was Zoom.

Well throw them out too. [fiddle starts playing.]

Adventures of Cancer Drug Side-Effects still going on. About a year and a half ago they had me on steroids that swolt up my legs and balzac and had me jacked up blood-sugar-wise. Good side was that I found out I could sell art at 500 blood sugar so long as I wasn't expected to have peripheral vision, or like, talk. Well that went away and they hooked me up with a village's worth of insulin, while blood sugar improved to the point where it was in danger of going too low if I dosed wrong. I got tired of sticking myself. Well, I finally joined the Borg and let them attach a Dexcom monitor to my brawny triceps. This is the first week. I am trying to see if I can avoid insulin by drinking water and exercising. Inspiration for this is a memory of a painting in a book of Bible stories where the Hebrew nerd boys lived simply (eating peas and praying iirc) while the Babylonian frat rats guzzled wine and scarfed up bbq. Later on the nerds beat up the frats and so I am seeing if I can accomplish the same with magical daily 30 minute walks. If/when blood sugar calms down, I plan a series of experiments chugging whiskey.

Pics not showing up.

I am hooked on plastic crack.

Fancy! The old-timey Scotch-Irish method was to rake around the cabin, so grass wouldn't grow and fires couldn't spread.

Silver 50 cent pieces are like the perfect real US coin. They were popular when silver dollars weren't.

Picked up another monthly Steady-Eddie block. Canadian .9999 at two over spot at $74, some 90% at about 5 under spot, I think maybe I got a free dime or something. Then I swung by a friend's grocery/tavern and he had them serve us free beer, oysters, chicken wings, and crawdads. I did not reveal my silver coinage.

I knew a guy in 9th grade who shit in a box and wrapped it up with a ribbon for his sister's birthday. He did some time at military school.

I gotta hit the gym. I weigh 15 more pounds than my 30yo Army weight (and 45 pounds less than my fatass pre-diagnoses weight (though to be fair only 40 of the 45 was fat the rest was tumor.)) ANYWAY the other day I look up inside the garage and see sunlight, high winds had blown off a vent-strip-thingy. I used to scramble up on the garage roof like a monkey, and jump off when I was done (5' drop on one end thanks to it being dug out of a hill) but this time up top I've got mummy sticks for leg muscles, zero power. STR and DEX are fried. On the plus side, the vent strip was still attached along one side, and all the nails for the loose side were still there, so I crouched in wobbly terror and tacked it back down. It was a damn sudoku puzzle trying to get back on the ladder without flipping backwards like an orc at Helm's Deep. Forget about jumping-- that's a busted thighbone in this suddenly aged state. Maybe I can find a workout bike behind yoga-pants-on-a-treadmill.

hahahahahahaha. hahaha hmmm

He already knows his letters.

Costco keeps tryna get me to start a new credit card.

Possibly some foreign-ass phrase translated from his ancestors' whore-house German.

Sssshweet.

One of our Honeymoon travels we chanced upon the Riverwalk Drury. Room was about 8' wide with a 12' tall ceiling so it was like medieval serving wench sex. Main reason my wife remembers it is because I came out of the bathroom and said "Is that your shampoo bottle in there?" She ran in to see. There was no shampoo bottle, but there was a fresh giant turd.

I do. Hell, any job that keeps him (officially) out of state is fine with me.

That's the thing though-- 30 minutes of NogNogNog NeeNeeNee and I can't have brain cancer again for four more months.

Good MRI today so instead I am going to bitch about having to wake up early and get no breakfast or coffee but damn that dye hit pretty good don't she.

They were winding me up about volunteering as a club officer. I guess I am officially beloved now. 5 semesters of Scottish Zoom classes done now, mostly in Aberdeen. Last Thursday there was a club-wide "Coffee & Chat" session that required me to wake up at 3 am, I jumped in and besides Scottish people, there were English, Dutch, and Japanese people ripping along in Gaelic as if I had stumbled into some Alternate Earth Harry Turtledove novel where the defeated Saxons had been absorbed into a British Empire dominated by Celts. They were going at it, blazing along, and as one of many, I could sorta hang with me gusta la biblioteca level phrases. But then we went to breakout rooms. In the breakout rooms we were groups of three, so it'd be me getting double-teamed with Gaelic questions by two people who found me interesting. Cool. With one questioner I probably could have hung but with two it was a tag-team beat-down. We had several of these rooms with different people. I noticed something happening- my listening comprehension went up, while my ability to speak went down. By the end I was the family dog, yes I am a good boy, wag tail, never speak. Then there was some group jabber session at the end and I glommed that most of these people were teachers. By then I was fried. But today in Duolingo I could understand the spoken words a lot better. It's not as much of a leap as that day in Mexico when I wondered why they were speaking English on the radio (they weren't,) but a few more sessions like this wouldn't hurt.

Judge not that ye be not judged BUT Dad's got bad health problems and Mom is in denial about kid's problem. Ain't shit I can do.

Abrazos no balazos. Mexican history is kinda like 10 CENTER CONTROLS 20 OUTSKIRTS REBEL 30 OUTSIDE FORCE ATTACKS 40 GOTO 10

He actually did a lot of good for several people once they locked him up and he was forced to grow up.