Blast from the Past

Have I mentioned to any one lately that I dislike the cold weather?
I know that it's time for spring when I start to hate putting on my coat every morning. I'm ready for sunshine, warm breezes and yard work.

Of course, I know this is silly. Two weeks after warmer--and I mean warmer as in 90 degrees, not this pansy-assed 75-degree crap--weather gets here, I'll be bitching and moaning about how I hate having a yard, and hate living in Texas in the summer and all that. But right now I'm longing for it.

With spring, comes a longing for other things as well. Like a trip to the Ren Fest. That's right y'all, I admit it, I wish desperately that I had been born not in the actual Renaissance period, but the mythical Renaissance when I could wear puffy shirts, carry a rapier and still have my cell phone, playstation, and indoor plumbing.

Well, this idea came up at dinner tonight with the rest of the Alaska Cruise crew. I really want to take a trip to Scarborough Faire, and I would like to go in a big group like when I was in college. That first trip was so much fun, and I still have fond memories when I smell pine-needles, turkey legs and cigarette smoke.

So in the spirit of this wish, here are a couple of pics. I just realized that, up to this point, I haven't actually posted a picture of myself on this blog. So, why the hell not start with one of the goofiest I can find?

And so I present: The Buckler of Swash!



This next one is a picture of one of me best mates, Kerry. Sadly, although we appear inebriated, we had not actually imbibed any tasty substances. Oh well...



And finally, here is Kerry and his sister Kasey. Funny story: I actually proposed marriage to Kasey a long time ago. Not seriously, of course. Well not really. But she was one of the first truly cool girls I'd ever met after I graduated high school. I think she's still pretty cool, although like me, her family thinks she's going to hell, too.



And so there you have it folks. An ordinary guy transformed into a swashbuckling ren fester with a little bit of baggy clothing and a piece of black satin. Only in America...

The Winter of My Discontent

Well, hello there, my loyal readers.

No, your eyes do not decieve you, this is indeed a new post.
I suppose I must begin by apologizing for my long absence from the digital domain. I have not been in the best of health lately. I've been in touch with the medical community quite a bit of late, including two trips to my regular physican, a visit from my friendly local paramedics, and a trip to the emergency room. Needless to say, the last two weeks haven't been real fun.

Now before you begin to worry too awfully much, let me tell you that I am feeling a far better now, and none of my illnesses were serious. The weekend before last I suffered from head congestion that caused a distressing--but not serious--case of diziness that lasted most of the weekend and necessitated the trips to my physician. And this past weekend, after enjoying a wonderful birthday celebration for dear Lisa, I finished the night with an acute and very unpleasant attack of food poisoning, which resulted in my attempted "Elvising," as the paramedics have so fondly named it.

Let me explain. In the midst of my suffering the very painful symptoms of food poisoning, I apparently--and most likely involuntarily--contracted my abdominal muscles to an astonishing degree, triggering the response of the vagas nerve located in my abdomen which caused a dramatic decrease in my blood pressure and causing me to very nearly lose conciousness, a set of events technically referred to as "vagalling." (Madame Fireweaver can perhaps correct me if I'm wrong.) In other words, I almost passed out on the toilet, thus the reference to the late King of Rock and Roll. This in turn prompted the visit from our friendly local emergency medical technicians, who immediatly guessed what had happend but who, nontheless, given my pre-existing heart condition, recommended that I see a doctor immediately. And so Michelle and I spent the next six hours in St. David's emergency room while they jabbed me three different times trying to start an IV, gave me another EKG, a chest exray, and proceeded to max out my insurance coverage.

Now that you are all in a tizzy about my well-being, let me assure you all that I am perfectly fine. Since last May, when I was initially admitted to the hospital for atrial fibrillation (which I have no idea how to spell correctly) I have been the subject of a heart sonogram, a cardio stress test and heart imaging, numerous blood tests, EKGs and any other heart-related test you can think of. And aside from a small electrical disturbance--which is very well controlled with medication--my heart is as healthy as it can be.

My point in writing all this down is three-fold: one, to assure all of you that I am okay and that I'm not going anywhere anytime soon; two, to explain why I haven't been blogging regularly; and three, so that I won't have to keep repeating this story. Hopefully, you won't all think that I am simply seeking sympathy or am one of those annoying people who has to share their medical history with you at every opportunity. Frankly, I find the whole situation rather embarrasing, but I feel that after having dropped some disturbing comments to my friends, it is my duty to put their minds at ease.

The year of our Lord two thousand and five was a rough one for all of us. I want you to know that I appreciate all of the concern that you have all shown for me. I'm doing everything I can to stick around and keep annoying all of you for several more decades.

Besides, if I wasn't around, where would you all get your kitten pic fix??

Long live the Storyteller...