November 18, 2009

First rehab visit today

I met the with the physical therapist today for my first rehab session. It was harder than I expected it to be and that was a little discouraging. All we did, as per my surgeon's instructions, was work on range of motion and mobility stuff as I am not permitted to lift more than 5 pounds with my right arm. Still, it was hard and it left me sore and perhaps a tad discouraged. Just the same, I will totally do this.

I went back to work on Monday and am really only good for about a half a day before I just want to melt into my chair and sleep. So, we'll see how that goes. I just want to get through this week and then next week is a short week with Thanksgiving. I hope to be in a better place (physically, emotionally, energy wise, pain management wise, etc.) after an extended break with more sleep. I hope to get more sleep generally. It kind of sucks to wake up every single time you want to shift position in bed. Normally, you can just turn over in your sleep but I cannot do that right now. I think that the lack of consistent sleep must be wrecking my mood and making me more prone to unhappiness and discouragement. Here's to sleep! Sleep that knits the raveled sleeve of care!

Sleep well, y'all! And thanks so much for the comments.

And a little brag. I stayed home to attend the Girl Child's parent teacher conference with her 3rd grade teacher. The teacher read a story out loud to us that the Girl Child had written, told us that she had never seen anything like it from a third grader ever, and read it out loud to all the other third grade teachers. She said that there is no doubt that this is a very special, very smart little girl. I kind of already knew that, by the way.

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November 14, 2009

Our meeting yesterday with the surgeon

It went well. He took something like 85 surgical staples out of an angry red line on my arm and tested my range of motion and mobility. He was visibly surprised by how much motion/mobility I had and agreed that there was a lot to be said for being so physically active for so many years prior to the surgery.

Then he told us some good news. The margins tested clean, according to pathology. Whatever he took out of my body is out. They are still uncertain about what it actually was, mind you, but it came out clean and left nothing behind in my arm. He was delighted to tell me that. Oncological orthopaedic surgeons at Memorial Sloan Kettering rarely, in my experience, use words like delighted. I take that as a good sign. We are waiting for the pathology report to come out and we are waiting for them to first finish some further genetic testing to tell us whether it is a low grade sarcoma or benign. He said that even if it is a low grade sarcoma, and it might be, he is not inclined to order radiation which he feels, in and of itself, carries risks which might not be warranted in my circumstances.

So, on to rehab. I will have pain in my arm for at least the next year, he cautioned me. It was a radical and "difficult" surgery. I slept, last night, or tried to sleep, without the sling for the first time and I can attest that I concur that it will continue to be painful. It was painful all night.

But you know what? I am a survivor. I have spent 6 weeks wondering, each time I have hugged my 3 year old, if I had an expiration date on those hugs and if he would remember me. That horrible introspection takes a terrible toll. I think that I am going to need some time here. Even if the tumor turns out to have been benign, I am a survivor. But more than having survived, now, I intend to thrive. So, pain be damned, get me to rehab. I have a lot of living left to do.

And thanks to the guy sitting next to my wife and me at Doc Watson's last night (2nd Ave and 77th/78th streets) who, after hearing me share my good news with the bartender last night, bought us a round of beers. New York is a great place to celebrate life, as this lovely fellow reminded me last night.

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November 13, 2009

Back to the surgeon today

I will journey back to the city today to meet with my surgeon at Memorial Sloan Kettering. He will remove the stitches from the 10 inch incision running from my shoulder to almost my elbow. He will discuss with me the healing and the rehab limitations. I hope to be released from my sling. I have been required to keep my arm in the sling for the last 9 days, including while in bed. It is simply not comfortable to sleep with a sling.

I will have lots of questions about rehab. I am impatient to begin.

I will, at this meeting, be told first thing about the verdict rendered by the tumor board on the pathology of the mass he removed last week. This is of no small moment for me and I wait, knowing that this outcome was determined prior to the surgery albeit unknown to me. I am hoping that it was benign and that the surgeon just has to say he's sorry for being so aggressive and so conservative and I can tell him not to worry, that I understand why he removed 40% of my right triceps. On the other hand, I could live with being told that it is a low grade malignancy and I need to light it up with some radiation. That would be ok, too. Either verdict will lead to numerous follow up questions (and no one asks follow up questions like a trial lawyer looking to exhaust a topic).

I am mentally and emotionally in a pretty good place right now. I have had some wonderful experiences from friends who expressed love that I did not know they had. I am over the complications (bleeding heavily from the catheter trauma) and nothing improves your outlook more than being able to pee without pain or heavy bleeding. I stopped taking the prescription pain stuff some days ago. Why do people seek that stuff out of their own choice? It is disgusting. My natural sense of optimism is reasserting itself.

Today will be a good day. Tomorrow, I am finally able to allow myself to think, will be a better day.

I will follow up with a post that I have in mind later to explore, in my usual disorganized fashion, what lessons I can glean from this experience. One quick one I will share is that life is uncertain -- eat dessert first.

Thank you all for all the comments. They have helped more than I can say.

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November 08, 2009

Surgery -- appears to have been a success

I am home, since Friday, from Memorial Sloan Kettering. The surgery was on Wednesday and required 5 hours. The surgeon took 40% of my right triceps. He felt it went well. I feel as if I have had better weeks and will write more once I can use my right hand again.

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October 24, 2009

Not so clear

We got what the oncologist called "relatively good news" yesterday. It is not a synovial sarcoma, which was what was expressly feared. The tumor board at Memorial Sloan Kettering absolutely ruled that out. The tumor board came up with three possible things: the first two are benign and the last is a non-aggressive low growth malignancy. They just cannot be sure. Yeah, that's right, I stumped the tumor board consisting of specially trained radiologists and pathologists and oncologists.

So, here's what they recommend (and what I will be doing): surgery on Nov. 4 to remove the entire mass by way of a semi-wide excision. The surgeon will not go as wide as if it were a synovial sarcoma but not as narrowly as if they knew it to be benign. This means that I will have a 3 hour or so surgery and they will take a good chunk (but not 70% as I had once feared) of my triceps leaving me with months of physical therapy and a permanent impairment. There will be no chemo and probably no radiation at all. That's good news.

The impairment bit is bad news. I take tremendous pleasure out of my daily game of squash on the weekdays and my tennis on the weekends. That will stop for months and may not come back. If I suffer nerve damage during the surgery that he, a micro surgeon, cannot successfully repair, then I can really kiss full use of my arm goodbye. The possibility of nerve damage is quite real, we were told yesterday.

But this is still, mostly, good news. It is better news than we feared, if not as good as we were hoping for. I am not looking forward to the 4th.

Yesterday, emotionally, was a horrible day. I won't delve into the details here (or anywhere) as I am still numb from it all. Suffice it to say that I was a total basket case. Probably still am. Can't really just flip a switch and turn it off. The mental connective tissues are still stressed, I think, and just because most of the pressure was removed does not mean they snap back into place. No, I understand that there is no such thing as mental connective tissue (at least in the way I am using this) but that's just how I visualize and hence describe it here.

Thank you all for your notes and letters. I am sorry that I have not answered them; I will. They have meant a great deal, more than I can really say.

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October 22, 2009

Taking my temperature

The results of the biopsy, while unknown to me (and maybe to the lab and the tumor board at this point), are fixed and not susceptible to change. I don't know, at this point, what they are, but that lack of knowledge does not change the outcome. The outcome will be communicated to me on Friday (tomorrow afternoon) at my follow up appointment with the oncologist at Memorial Sloan Kettering. I grow increasingly anxious, nervous, fretful, scared.

For most of the week, I have managed to keep a fairly even keel. I have not had great emotional swings. I have chosen to believe that the diagnosis will be benign. I have seized on several facts and chosen to believe that these facts auger an outcome for the ultimate result. I have done so knowing that I am not a doctor, knowing that these facts may not really be that important in the great scheme of decision making, choosing to ascribe great significance to these facts anyway, fearing -- just the same -- that I have deliberately fooled myself into giving these facts great weight and allowing them to comfort me, to calm me. So, I guess that means I have still a nagging concern that my comfort is premised on a faulty foundation. But it is all that I have right now and so I seize upon it, I hold it close, I don't hold it up to the light, I hope that the holes which may exist are holes I have worn in it from touching it over and over in the same place, and I choose to take comfort.

Its just a coping mechanism, really. But it has helped.

I have been tired as hell all week. Partly, maybe, that's a lingering effect from the surgery. Partly, I have been sleeping poorly -- not enough and not terribly well when I do sleep. But yesterday I made it through an almost full day at work for the first time all week. And that was good.

I have been taking comfort from food, sort of. That's not really too helpful since I cannot exercise right now. But every night on the way home from the city, I buy a chocolate chip cookie to eat on the train. I have no explanation for this, or, at least, none which I care to explore and find.

As I said, I have been coping ok this week. Until last night. Last night, I began to imagine what my wife and I might do to celebrate a benign diagnosis. I thought, maybe I should wear a tie after all on Friday and we could go somewhere nice and get gloriously, gleefully, gratefully drunk. But then, then I had the thought, but what if the news on Friday is not good? And that's when I began to experience feelings of panic again.

That feeling of panic lingers even now. I don't know what else to say, really. Friday will come as it comes. I cannot hurry it and wanting it (and also not wanting it) to come will change nothing -- it will take the same amount of time either way. But we are not made to be rational at all times, are we? We are creatures of emotion.

And so, my stomach churns as the clock ticks relentlessly forward and I await my diagnosis, sometimes calm, sometimes terribly anxious. But always feeling blessed by my children.

Thanks for reading.

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October 16, 2009

At night

It is hardest at night, not to take counsel of your fears. At night, when you are the least capable of rationally examining a possibility for its realistic effects, that's when you are most vulnerable. You are not able to distinguish, to right your listing little boat of a mind, to make yourself say, "oh, stop it". That's where I was, again, last night. I woke at around 2:30. I was physically uncomfortable, sure. I cannot turn on to my right side to sleep and have to sleep either on my back or my left side. And I kind of have been keeping a pillow between my right arm and my rib cage. If the dressing over the wound presses against the mattress, it causes discomfort, sometimes sharply, but always at least dull discomfort. Anyway, I allowed, somewhere in the night, my fears to overwhelm me and I woke somewhat overwrought. Ok, that's not quite right. I was awakened by a combination of physical discomfort and being scared. Waking up mostly took care of the overwrought, actually. Getting out of bed, closing the door to the bedroom so that the light from downstairs would not wake my sleeping wife, that took away some of my fear.

And I freely admit to being scared. I don't want this thing to be cancer. You would not know this, but if it is cancer, this is relatively rare. Only, perhaps, about a thousand people a year in the country get this one. That's why I was seen so quickly at Memorial Sloan Kettering Hospital. That plus the fact that the tumor is actually pretty large.

Anyway, I learned last night that the doctor was unable to tell from looking under the microscope whether it was malignant or benign and that the final verdict must await the tests that will conclude some 9 days from Wednesday. I will learn what it is on the 23rd. In the meantime, I will try to control my anxiety, which is actually sometimes palpable. I mean, I can actually feel my heart race. It was worse, mind you, before I got the results of the CT scan when I was terrified that (1) it was cancer and (2) that perhaps it had spread to my pulmonary system -- the one fatal consequence for me that the doctor had identified. That was when I was terrified. As I asked, brokenly (and I mean brokenly -- I could barely get the question out, it took at least three tries), would I live to dance at my daughter's wedding? That is what I was focused on -- my children.

It is difficult not to let them know how I am feeling. But that is not a fear that I will visit upon them. I mean, if I can barely deal with it, and I actually have some fucking perspective on this, how could they? Right. They cannot. So, one attempts to cope. And so far, it seems to be working out ok. They seem unaware, unchanged. That's good.

In the meantime, I wait. I don't wait very well. But for right now, I wait and the thing that bothers me is that this waiting period, which is terribly unpleasant, might turn out to be, in retrospect, the best part of the whole experience. That is the thing that I really hate. I feel almost as if I have to enjoy this waiting period because, God forbid, this might be the last time when I can believe that I am cancer free, when I don't have to think about radiation/chemo/more surgery. This waiting time might be thought of as the time of innocence. The time after might be the time of experience. I dimly think that William Blake wrote poems about that, several hundred years ago. Anyway, that is ultimately what freaks me out right now, that my time of innocence might come crashing down around me with one simple sentence on the 23rd -- your tumor is malignant.

I'm not sure if it helps to write this out. This, after all, might just be an extension of my night fears.

But it sure feels real.

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October 15, 2009

so, so much to say

I am typing left handed only for the moment as my right arm is in a sling, per the instructions of the oncologist-orthopaedic surgeon who performed an incision biopsy on a large mass on my right triceps yesterday morning. I am coping, sort of.

I don't know if this is cancer. It may be, but I am strongly hopeful that it is benign. Benign is an awfully bland, beige sort of a word for a concept of such stunning personal significance. I believe that this mass, this tumor, is not cancer, but I have been seriously freaked. Still, even if it is cancer, the ct scan shows it has NOT spread to chest/lungs/heart, so that's very good news. It also has not gone into the bone or nerves. That's also good.

I expect I will write more later but am tired and need a nap now.

Thanks for reading.

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October 10, 2009

This still works, I gather

I am curious to see if, after so many months have elapsed, my blog still works. So, let's give it a shot.

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December 24, 2008

Merry Christmas, y'all!

Hey, everyone,

Just a quick blast to wish everyone the joy and peace of the season and to share my absolute favorite rendition of the 12 Days of Christmas:

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October 14, 2008

A new entry? Sure, why not?

I have not posted in a dog's age, have I? Well, I am not terribly inclined to explain other than to say that blog has been overtaken by events.

But I did have some amusing Girl Child things I wanted to share.

First, when the Viking Bride and I came home from dinner last week, we were met with the following from a new babysitter:

Babysitter: I told the Girl Child that she was quite a handful and she said to me, "I don't know how my mother handles me sometimes".

Second, I was home early on Wednesday last week and attended the last bit of the Girl Child's riding lesson. I was there long enough to grow concerned that she was not concentrating and then, boom, her pony threw her quite dramatically into a jump and she bounced off the poles and standards. Didn't even get dirty, as it turned out, since she didn't really hit the ground. It looked ugly and she was sitting there on the ground, crying. I let the instructors deal with it in the first instance. She sat there for a moment and then accepted a leg up back on to the pony and off they went to continue their jumps. Later, I asked her about the crying and why she stopped crying. This is what she told me:

Well, I couldn't figure out how to get back up on the pony and keep crying so I just stopped crying.

Tough kid.

Anyway, nice to dip a toe back in to the blog. No promises, but I sense the need for an expressive outlet again.

And who knows, maybe someone will still be reading?

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August 12, 2008

And the trip ends with sunshine

We have spent the last 10 days in Oslo, Norway, visiting the in-laws and inhabiting a strange land where the children are permitted ice cream for breakfast. Exactly how we were raised, says my sister in law, sardonically. The sun is shining today and we drove up to Bogstad Gard to walk among the animals and hang out by the water. It was the first sustained glimpse of sunshine I have seen since we arrived, last week.

It has been a long visit. Only in summer in Norway can you find yourself distracted by being able to see your breath as you run in the hills overlooking the fjord in the morning. I was not pleased to have it so cold, and gray, and rainy and wet.

But we did have a good time, even if it is starting to feel as if Norway (or at least Oslo) is becoming an Islamic Republic. I could not believe how many women I saw in head scarves or even in the full scale burka (they look like ghosts in those). I was treated to Islamic sermons from fairly radical sounding preachers over taxi audio systems. The Viking Bride and I took a tour of the Royal Palace (cool) where a Pakistani visitor indignantly refused to put the shoe cover things on, exclaiming to his mother (and to us) that, regarding the Palace: "This is not a mosque. I mean, really, this is NOT a mosque." Really, Norway, does this whole path truly make sense to you?

We went to see the Fram (again) with the kids. This year, for the first time, the hatch to the lowest deck where the engines are located was open and the Boy Child enjoyed that so much that he went back down, grandmother in tow, for a second look.

It has been a stressful visit in many ways; most of which are internal to me and not related to the annoyance of being cooped up with my inlaws (although that annoyance should not be understated).

Norway is shockingly expensive. It is now about 5 kroner to the dollar so you can do the math when you find out that 8 beers cost about 730 kroner.

It was well over a hundred dollars to take the kids to the children's theater in Frogner Park to see Pippi Longstocking (very cute). We went with my dearest, oldest friend in the whole world since we were 2 years old. Our children had never met so that was particularly cool. It was interesting to watch them play together.

What else can I tell you?

We leave tomorrow to return to reality. The children are totally spoiled. One of the answers supplied by the Girl Child to the question, what do you like about visiting Norway was: "There are no rules here". By here, she clearly means in her grandmother's kitchen, by the way. Norway has lots and lots of rules.

I think that we are all looking forward to being back in our own house, even if we must first endure a very long plane trip back to Newark, NJ and a long drive back to Connecticut.

So, to be clear, while I have been away, it has not been a vacation. No rum. If there isn't rum, it is not a vacation. Besides, vacations should not involve extended exposure to mothers-in-law.

Hope all is well with you all!

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July 24, 2008

A new rant: Forget Progress

Tme for a new rant. This has been bubbling up for too long and I need to let some of it out, here. So, away we go.

I reject “progress” and I reject “progressive thought” and, while I am at it, I reject “change”.

I choose old, tired, shopworn, out of fashion, boring, conservative, modes of thought and behavior.

I am not persuaded that progress in social thought or behavior has brought enough good with the bad.

I reject the notions:

*that sexual promiscuity is without consequence, either physical or emotional;

*that tattoos are acceptable on anyone not a veteran;

*that television should be my guide in choosing my own personal behavior;

*that music that calls woman bitches is socially redeeming and valuable protest music;

*that we should not be permitted to make value judgments;

*that the Left is correct in failing to protest the position of gays or women in the Islamic world;

*that no one on the Left appears to seriously recognize the significant cognitive dissonance in wearing t-shirts like, “Gays for Palestine”;

*that childrenÂ’s literature should be filled with teaching moments to glorify and reinforce diversity;

*that some abstract notion of statistically tracked racial diversity is valuable while diversity of opinion is not important;

*that “Unity” (yes, Sen. Obama, I’m talking to you) is ipso facto valuable and not, in fact, a fascist concept designed to stifle debate and freedom of expression;

*that someone’s “hurt feelings” is more important than my right to freedom of speech and, maybe more importantly, freedom AFTER speech;

*that parents abdicate their responsibilities to give their children moral guidance and instead transfer that responsibility to a school where such things are decided by a committee and implemented by books designed to meet the California market;

*that self-esteem is built by endless and meaningless praise, instead of struggle and accomplishment;

*that some banks are too big to fail (I just hope mine is not among them);

*that it is never appropriate to use your fists to settle an argument;

*that a nuclear Iran is a neutral force on the world stage (please, how can anyone seriously believe this?); and, finally (for now),

*I reject the notion that the United States is not the single greatest force for good among world actors today.

So, if you disagree, leave me alone in my quiet corner where my children donÂ’t watch television, are not permitted near a computer, and have to read or go outside and run around to play elaborate made up games. I promise you that my kids will be ready to help pick up the pieces after you mess up our society.

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July 22, 2008

No backwards dives

Don't let the dear little idiots do any backwards dives off diving boards, ok? Unless, of course, you enjoy spending Saturday nights in the emergency room and hanging out with plastic surgeons.

The Boy Child went off the diving board Saturday night in a backwards dive and smashed his face on the board. I took him to the emergency room for a 3 hour visit where the plastic surgeon put 3 layers of stiches in the deep cut (down to the muscle) on his chin (2 cm wide). He has to be kept fairly still for 2 weeks until the stitches come out -- no swimming or sports.

He was very brave. I was, perhaps, a bit less brave (but not so he noticed).

The real hero was the Girl Child, one mother who witnessed the incident recounted to me. She told me that while everyone froze, the Girl Child who was in the water immediately went to the Boy Child who himself was struggling to swim (and not really managing it) and propped him up as she propelled him to the side of the pool. I was so proud of her for coming to his rescue. This is what you hope your child will do but you cannot be sure until she is tested. The life guard pulled the Boy Child out but I am certain that the Girl Child materially contributed to the rescue.

It was a long weekend.

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July 15, 2008

Playing catch up

I have been busier than a differently abled decorative wall covering installation customer service associate.

I have been, in some cases, fending off calls from head hunters who want to move me from my current firm, and, in other cases, succumbing to their blandishments, entreaties, and probable outrageous overstatements and agreeing to meet with some people. It has been an interesting experience, actually. Law is a business, donÂ’t forget. But the fact is that most lawyers are terrible businessmen. So, discussing a potential business combination with another lawyer is actually a bit of a frustrating experience. This is why lawyers (like me, not to brag) who have any kind of decent head for business are really loved by their clients.

I donÂ’t even know how to catch up on all that has gone on of late, so I am not sure that I should even try to compose a connected, related post that flows, chronologically, from topic to topic or event to event. Instead, maybe I just throw it out there as best as I can recall.

* * *

I had the Girl Child (7.5 now) into the city with me on Friday last. We played hooky from camp and work, respectively. She needed the time away from life and I wanted to have a father/daughter day for just the two of us. We had lunch and breakfast in the city and I took her to the Museum of Natural History to see the Horse Exhibit where she stumped the docent when she asked why the chestnut was not marked on the large model of the horse they had put up.

Highlights of the day include her telling me that the lions in front of the Main Branch of the New York Public Library were named: “Attitude and Fortitude”. Much better names for NY Lions than Patience and Fortitude.

We also talked about weddings and I asked why girls seemed to spend so much time and energy on a wedding, thinking, somehow, that a great wedding was a guaranty for life happiness. I asked her since she was a girl, I told her, and more likely to be able to explain it to me. She put down her fork and said: “Pappa, I think it is because of the movies. You know, like Cinderella. The girls see these movies and want to be just like the girls in the movies and marry princes. That’s why I think it is.” She is much smarter than I am.

* * *

I signed up for the Fall to coach the Boy ChildÂ’s Soccer team. I played in high school for a very good program and I expect I remember how to do it. I am so glad I can spend this kind of time with him. There are no do-overs, are there?

* * *

I played in a huge 32 team tennis tournament this weekend with a friend. We made it to the finals in our bracket where we lost. Much sun, much beer, much tennis over both Saturday and Sunday, much trash talking (in a nice way), and way too much fun.

The Girl Child swung by at one point to watch and then went to have lunch with another family. The other family has a daughter the same age as the Girl Child. She asked the Girl Child where I was and was told, “playing tennis”. The other girl offered up that her father plays tennis, too, to which the GC (not at all competitive) responded: “is he any good”?

* * *

We are in countdown mode for the trip to Norway. Leaving at the beginning of August. Right when a deal I am intimately involved in and which could have a huge financial impact on my family, is about to get hot. Timing, at the moment, looks quite bad. I may end up being excused from this trip as I cannot possibly be 9 hours out of common time zones from the board president if this thing goes live. I couldnÂ’t stand it; not after working on this for 4 years. I have to be involved in the take down at the end. At least, I desperately hope that there is going to be a take down at the end. Please. Please. Please.

This is the source of no small amount of stress. Even more stress than contemplating changing law firms.

* * *

I have left out so much. But that said, I would prefer not to sacrifice acceptable on the alter of perfection and so, with that, I publish.

Nice to be back, yÂ’all (not that I think anyone is actually going to be reading this after all this time).

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June 23, 2008

Baseball and classics collide

Free associations come most freely and with the least inhibitions early in the morning, before the coffee kicks in.

I was up early (not that I had any choice in the matter) and watching Sports Center with the two boys when one of the anchors referred to KC Royal pitcher Gil Meche (pronounced "Mesh"). I immediately hit the free association button and thought:

Damn, he must be the first Sumerian to make it to the Show. Figures he'd break in as a pitcher, everyone knows Gilgamesh could not hit the long ball."

Wonder where Enkidu is playing these days?

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June 20, 2008

Report from last weekend

As we stand on the verge of an other busy, activity filled weekend, I take some small consolation in the knowledge that this weekend upcoming will not be as busy as the weekend just past.

The highlight on Saturday was the Boy Child’s last little league game of the season. This was, without question, his best game. He has turned into quite the little short stop. Our team (playing little kid rules of 3 innings and each time getting to basically bat the entire line up) recorded 8 outs against the other team for a season high number of outs. Of the 8, the BC personally recorded 6 of them. In the first inning alone, he cleanly fielded ground balls hit to him at short stop and threw the runners out at home in a force play with the bases loaded. It was the only time this year that we got out of an inning without the other team scoring against us. He was, as one of our other coaches said, a vacuum cleaner, just sucking up any ground ball hit to his side of the field. The reason he was able to do this was because when he is on the field, he has total focus and concentration on the game – unlike just about any other kid on the team. The BC got hits at each of his at bats, including a line drive one hop grounder that went off the shoulder of a fielder. He hit it so hard that play had to stop until the kid stopped crying and shook it off. The BC ran to first, exhibiting “nice wheels” as one of our coaches said. On the next play right after that, our batter grounded to second and the BC ran as fast as he could from first to second. Only, the second baseman was standing in the base path between the BC and the base. So, the BC wiped him out, dashing him to the ground and taking him out of the play. There followed from that an extended discussion between the BC, the second baseman (who was complaining about the rough treatment) and the coach of the other team. The BC explained: “He was in the way and I was afraid I was going to get out”. The coach agreed, telling his player that he had been standing in the base path and the BC had the right of way.

The change in the BC from the first game, where he waved pathetically at the ball with his bat, couldnÂ’t really throw, didnÂ’t know where to run, and had no idea how to field, was extraordinary. He was an absolute stand out. The boyÂ’s got game.

On Sunday, which was FatherÂ’s Day, I was up with the Girl Child and we were out of the house by 6:45 to drive down to Greenwich for her first away horse show. The show was held on the grounds of a very wealthy familyÂ’s estate in the backcountry of Greenwich. The GC was terribly worried the whole way down that her pony would misbehave. Her pony loves grass and cannot stop himself from grazing even under the most inappropriate of circumstances. The show was being held on a grass field. The GC, as it turned out, was right to be worried.

Her first event was Short Stirrup Equitation Walk Trot. The pony stopped in the middle of the event no fewer than eight times to graze on the tasty grass. The GC did not lose her composure. She just pulled his head back up and kept on going. She did get angry, though. She was at the trot in her half seat – a jumping position where her bottom is off the saddle and her hands are up by the horse’s mane – when the pony stopped short. She almost went over his head. This time she stood in her stirrups, yanked his head up forcefully with her left hand on the reins while, at the same time, smacking him in the face with her crop. It looked as painful as she looked determined and it sure got him moving again. I was standing with three of the senior riding instructors, watching, while the GC struggled with her pony. All three thought that the GC showed exceptional poise and composure. One of them said that any other child confronted with this situation would have been in tears in the middle of the ring long before the eighth stop. The other instructor, the most senior, said to me that the GC is the complete package – great skills and a tremendous attitude – that she isn’t missing anything. It was lovely praise. More than that, though, it was a wonderful Father’s Day present to watch the GC battle through and not lose her concentration or composure. Everyone agreed that the GC is one tough kid. I was thrilled.

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June 13, 2008

The children's life plans

So, the kids appear to have what they want to do for a living all figured out, whether they realize it or not.

The Boy Child (aged 5 and going into kindergarten) told the Viking Bride:

When I grow up, Mamma, I want to be a client and have my office right across the street from Pappa.

Smart kid. Way better to be the client than the lawyer.

The Girl Child (aged 7 and heading to second grade), on the other hand, is showing that she has exactly what it takes to be a lawyer.

She came home from school on Monday and told me that another girl in her first grade class, a bully, cut in front of her on line. The Girl Child tapped the bully with her index finger and the bully went and told the teacher that the GC punched her.

I told the GC that she should go to school the next day and tell the bully: “You lied to the teacher about me. The next time, I am just going to punch you. That way when you get me in trouble, at least I will have done what you said”. Sort of a, if she’s got to do the time, she might as well do the crime, theory. Off she went to school and she reported back to me as follows:

GC: I saw the bully today and I told her, “You lied to the teacher about me”. And she said, “Well, you hurt me.”

Me: So, what happened next?

GC: Pappa, the well explained everything. I didnÂ’t say anything else.

Me: What do you mean?

GC: The well explained THAT she lied and it explained WHY she lied.

Oh. Yeah, I kind of see that. The thing is, I donÂ’t think I could have seen that at age 7.

SheÂ’s going to make an excellent lawyer.* I wonder if the Boy Child will hire her. HeÂ’d be a fool not to.

*The thing is, though, she declared that her intention is to become a riding instructor – the most expensive riding instructor in the world. Perhaps in her spare time, she can still practice law.

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June 12, 2008

I'm not really that mature

You know how I know that? Because if I was more mature, I would not be sitting here telling you about how I had breakfast yesterday with a client and his girlfriend. I would certainly not tell you that the girlfriend has been featured a couple of times in Playboy (Brazil) and was on the cover of Playboy (Italy). Nope, I would not tell you about that at all. By the way, she was, in addition to being gorgeous, a delightful and lovely person.

I was the only man in the room who did not look when she got up to go the bathroom -- I kept my eyes firmly fixed on my client's face. That said, I did happen to be behind her as we walked out of the restaurant.

Some days, I love my job.

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June 10, 2008

This was rough

This video was put together by a 15 year old girl.

God bless America and all of our servicewomen and servicemen in harm's way everywhere:

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:54 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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