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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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1 The RSS feed still works too!

Posted by: Stephen Macklin at October 10, 2009 08:38 AM (R7LgM)

2 RSS feed is a wonderful tool! Yes indeed it does, and funny you should post today as I'm in NY this weekend and thought of you this morning. Hope all is good in your world.

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4 !!!

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Hide Comments | Add Comment

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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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!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:11 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 Yeah, the dollar is still pretty weak... nice when I go back to the US, though! And I just went through Newark two months ago. It's been a weird summer in Europe qua weather. Glad to hear from you!

Posted by: Hannah at August 12, 2008 08:49 AM (J6dok)

2 I don't know. Tequila makes a pretty good vacation if rum is not available, at least once in a while. Safe trip home, and glad the kids (at least!) had fun.

Posted by: caltechgirl at August 13, 2008 02:23 AM (IfXtw)

3 He's alive... I just spent two weeks in Connecticut, RP. I guess I didn't miss you after all...

Posted by: Mark at August 19, 2008 12:04 AM (jo4Fv)

4 rgjhbewjdf better then pornotube iefddhsf www pornotub e

Posted by: galiaq at February 28, 2009 05:42 PM (nHb/i)

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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).

Posted by: Random Penseur at 04:03 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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1 Still nice to hear from you - good luck with that deal. And scary to think GC is that old, nw...

Posted by: Hannah at July 15, 2008 04:54 PM (lUH62)

2 glad you haven't gone away entirely!

Posted by: caltechgirl at July 15, 2008 05:02 PM (IfXtw)

3 Still here. Glad to see you are, too!

Posted by: Mandalei at July 15, 2008 07:35 PM (UFJds)

4 Still here (after all these years!) heh! Glad you're back. I love the update.

Posted by: jules at July 16, 2008 10:39 AM (XA8OW)

5 and the fact that you'd probably rather not visit your in-laws has nothing to do with hoping to be excused from visiting Norway, has it? Hmmmm? I'd do the exact same thing if I could get away with it. Alas, no big, four-years-in-the-making deals on the agenda for moi. Glad to see you, my friend. I've missed you.

Posted by: Kathy at July 17, 2008 11:26 AM (zZH38)

6 Welcome back, RP! We missed you!

Posted by: GrammarQueen at July 22, 2008 10:29 AM (fWrQ6)

7 货架、货架

Posted by: 货架、 at March 01, 2009 10:46 AM (+Xe1F)

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I feel a bit unbalanced today. You may not know this about me, but I am completely ambidextrous. In fact, I normally write with my left hand but play tennis or squash or throw with my right hand.

I play a lot of squash. I probably play a minimum of 4 and sometimes up to 6 times a week. Lately, however, I have begun to experience some pain in my elbow and my shoulder. I decided to take it easy and rest the arm, opting to not play this week. I got talked into giving it a try this morning, though. I easily won my first game and then the shoulder started to ache, kind of sharply. So I did the smart thing and resigned the match. That should have ended it.

Except that my partner suggested that I switch hands and play lefty. I have never tried that before but, sure, why not. We hit some balls so I could get used to it and then we went for it. I lost three games very quickly: 9-0; 9-0; 9-1. So we played three more and I lost all of them, too but by a much better score: 9-5; 9-6; 9-6. Yes, I took respectable losses against an experienced player by using my weak hand for the first time ever.

Cool. I was so pleased when we walked off the court.

But then it got weird. I went to get a cup of coffee to take into the locker room and I ended up using my left hand as my dominant hand. I have continued, off and on, to confuse which hand is dominant. I have felt slightly off balance, too, like I used my body in a familiar task but in an unfamiliar way. All very odd.

I highly recommend this experience, if you think you have the ability to switch it up a little.

Change your perspective. Use your other hand (good luck serving, though).

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:05 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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1 I do it all the time, very useful. :-P Plus it makes me feel smart and able, to use both hands fairly well.

Posted by: Hannah at May 09, 2008 02:47 PM (lUH62)

2 Joe is a big softball player. For the longest time he was hitting right handed, but would practice left handed sometimes. In one game, he wasn't doing so well. He stepped up to the plate and proceeded to get into position left handed. I thought the coach was going to lose his mind. He was yelling for Joe not to do it, but Joe moved forward. Joe scored a home run which essentially won the game. Josh, my younger son, is ambidextrous. He throws right handed, but eats left handed. He alternates which hand he uses in drawing, but mostly uses his right hand, but will pick up a bat (or light saber, actually) with his left hand. It will be interesting to see what he does with that in the future.

Posted by: Linda at May 14, 2008 10:11 AM (lm8Uy)

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Saturday found me in a local upscale grocery store with the Girl Child to buy cupcakes to celebrate, later, the Boy Child's first little league game (he did great, more on that later). I ran into my neighbor, who I have not seen in some time. He lives right next door and just got remarried to a lovely French woman and they are raising her young children together. I was pleased to see him. I asked him how he was and he said, looking at the Girl Child, that he got some news but would call me later to discuss. I understood and sent her off to the smoked fish to find something yummy (her favorite stuff, really). And he told me that he was just diagnosed with lung cancer and it was in his lymph nodes. None of the kids know yet. He just found out this week.

His wife told me on Sunday that he is now taking anti-depressants. I was out in the yard practicing baseball with the Boy Child when her 7 year old son came running out with his glove to join in.

So, here's the question: would you take drugs to adjust your emotional reaction to devastating news? Or would you say, forget it, this may be the last ride of my life and I am going to fully experience the highs and the lows?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:19 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
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Nope, not gone.

Just so totally whip sawed between work and home and outside obligations that I have barely had time to think, let alone write.

So, if anyone is still reading this, I will try to write some more soon. Truth is, I miss it. Finally.

Off early today from work. I am going to coach the first practice for my five year old son's little league team. I am, probably, more excited than he is.

And I could use that kind of fun. I watched, yesterday, as they performed a funeral mass for my partner's young cousin. He was 20 and the cancer he had been fighting finally did him in. I know his mother and father, too, and have for years. The grandmother, too, come to think of it. As I watched the boy's mother walk into the church, behind the casket, all I could think was that grief had destroyed her face in a way I had never seen before. Usually, if there really is such a thing, grief eats away at the flesh and the fat and leaves the bones etched in sharp relief on the face. Here, her face, as she followed the body of her only child into the church, was collapsed as if grief had rendered the bones of her face brittle and they had shattered under the weight of her sadness. It was heart rending.

So, today, I go out into the sunlight with nine little boys and I teach them how to run, to hit, to throw, and to cheer for their team mates. It is a beautiful day and a blue sky and I am happy to be alive.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:58 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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Any evening that starts with a glass, a generous glass, of Rebel Yell bourbon in a small bar room with beautiful paintings of dogs and horses and ends with a recitation of Kipling poetry, at a table in a dark room lit only by candles in gleaming candelabra, shiny silver table decorations (I think they were quail) and a very good glass of port in a crystal port glass is clearly going to be a perfect evening. In between those two things, we eight people spoke mainly of PG Wodehouse.

It is difficult to imagine how the evening could have been improved upon.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 12:44 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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This day has gone from inconvenient to annoying to down right so angry that I just actually told my accountant: "You have disturbed my serenity to such an alarming degree that I actually cannot adequately communicate it to you". Much, much better than telling him to go f**k himself.

To begin, I could not sleep from between 12:30 and 1:30 this morning. I lay on the sofa downstairs and listened to the storm battering the house. It was loud, persistent, and somewhat violent.

I left the house at 4:56 this morning to go to the train station, as is my custom. There was a huge tree branch, like half a tree, down and blocking my driveway. I had to go over the lawn to get out of my house. I should have just gone back to bed.

It was a slow train ride in to Stamford. Once in Stamford, they announced that the train had hit some debris and they had to change equipment. That meant that they had to cancel our train and stick all of us on to the local -- the one that makes every stop between Stamford and Grand Central. Having left the house at 4:56, I arrived in Grand Central at 7:05.

No time to play squash this morning, due to late arrival. My partner picked up another game, you see.

Get a call from the accountant who got call from my wife who got a letter from the IRS asking in that really gentle IRS kind of way, where are your 2006 tax returns? For gentle, read: there could be criminal penalties associated with failure to file returns. As much as I would like to say, kiss my Wesley Snipes ass, you jerks, I resist. I tell my accountant that I am puzzled since I have his letter telling me that my returns (joint returns) were filed electronically. Ah, says he, let me call you back. See, if e-filed, that means that his firm did it.

His partner calls me. Turns out, for reasons he cannot explain, none of our tax returns (we file federal and in two states) were filed for 2006. Their mistake. He is going to re-prepare them and send them over to me for my and my wife's signature so that we can file them by mail. He will, I insisted, include a cover letter on his firm's letterhead taking full responsibility for the mistake.

Sure.

And if this mistake screws up my wife's application for US citizenship? What do I do if that happens?

I am now terribly concerned about what bad and stupid thing is about to happen next.

I have not had lunch yet. I bet I break a tooth when I bite into something and the dentist won't be able to see my until June. If I was a betting man, that's what I would bet will happen.

I am really beyond angry here. Way beyond. As only a guy who hasn't slept well in two days can be.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:06 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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I give you, Minnesotans for Global Warming:

I just wish I had thought of this first.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:39 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Someone once said that the race may not always go to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but that's the way to bet. The same can be said for squash. The match may not always go to the younger by 15 years guy, the thinner and taller guy, the guy with longer arms and longer legs, but that's not a bad way to bet.

Except, of course, for last night. That was when I beat up a 25 year old guy in straight games (3-0) by the scores of 9-4, 10-8, 9-4 and saved my club team from being swept in a 9 match challenge for a pretty silver cup that the other team ended up retaining.

I am still, hours and hours later, pretty damn pleased. And the best part is my knees don't even hurt today. Woo hoo!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:02 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Now that my trial has ended, I was actually able to take the entire weekend away from the office. As would be my custom, I threw myself at it.

*Friday night -- martini night and dinner with friends

*Saturday

--take all three kids, who are up waaaay too early, with me to the grocery store to stock up on Super Bowl type food;

--feed the kids breakfast;

--take the Girl Child to her riding lesson and stay to watch. Try not to judge her too much as she whacks the pony on the butt with her crop because heÂ’ll buck if that happens and she thinks that's fun;

--bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies from scratch with some small help from the kids;

--oversee the Girl Child as she prepared, in her own words and her own hand, two cards to go with the two plates of cookies;

--take the cards, the cookies, and the whole family to the firehouse and the police station to thank them all for keeping us safe;

--get a tour of the firehouse and watch the kids be allowed to sit in the driver seat of the biggest of the trucks. The baby (not quite two, yet) went right for the wheel with the left hand and the shifter knob with the right and turned and gave us quite the most self-contented grin I have seen in quite some time;

--get a tour of the police station, including the booking room, the cells, the 911 communications center, and the break room. Get a special introduction to the blood hound and be allowed to play with him in the parking lot.

--explain to the children what "say no to drugs" means on the way home from the police station. The Girl Child saw it on a poster and wanted to know. We told her about how drugs were bad and if people tried to give her any, she should turn them down. She wanted to know from us how she would know, asking, would it say drugs on the side of the thing?

--take the children home to turn them over to the babysitter so we could go off to an adult's only dinner party

--go to a dinner party and have great fun with a whole wide range of people (ranging from investment bankers to music industry types). Get home late.

*Sunday

--Get up early and hit the paddle courts for my first paddle experience since New Year's Day. Realize that a three week break has somehow magically improved my game. Walk off the court feeling like a million bucks, although a confused million bucks, and with an invitation to a Super Bowl party, which I decline with great regret;

--Go home to switch off with the Viking Bride as she headed off to dance class, pulled the baby into the shower with me, then went downstairs to begin the pot of mega-chili (YAY!);

--take the Girl Child to Sunday School and come home to finish the chili preparations while feeding something inappropriate to the boys for lunch and then put them down for their naps;

--pick up the Girl Child, take her home to feed her, and then take her to the aquarium for a birthday party;

--come home, pick up the boys and the Bride, take them to a playground for a half an hour and then take them all to the aquarium to see the sharks while we wait for the birthday party to let out;

--bring everyone home, feed them dinner, and turn on the Super Bowl;

--watch the first half with the children and the second half without;

--offer up my thanks and joy when the Giants take home the trophy.

All in all, it was a pretty packed weekend, wouldn't you say?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 04:09 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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