More vacation!

Decided to write this post on Sunday in LA and schedule it for "publication" tomorrow so I don't have to worry about it when I get back to Madison.

The past week has been wonderful. After Jed's marathon driving feat from LA to El Paso, and meeting Nate at the El Paso airport, we headed the car toward Big Bend on the 29th (was that Sunday? or Monday?--it's been the sort of vacation where you lose track of the days). We didn't stay in the national park, but rather at Lajitas, a beautiful but now financially troubled fancy resort just outside the state park, which I think is even larger than the national park. In November, a flood wiped out the resort's golf course (which had been its main attraction, I think), but Nate found a bunch of articles on the internet that suggested the financial problems had begun a few years ago. No need to go into details--for us, the place was just fine. More than just fine--luxurious. I had a really good massage at the spa; we drove into the national park, including the Chisos Mountains, and saw quite spectacular scenery; we ate well and slept on terrific beds; Jed and Nate bought me a painted walking stick that helped me negotiate short walks (from the parking lot to the dining room, say), which were a challenge at 4,000 feet.

We celebrated New Year's eve with room service and TV--and then Nate asked if I would like him to fly back to Madison with me and drive me to Chicago for my appointment on Thursday. I was overjoyed, because I had been spending a lot of time trying to figure out how to deal with the trip if it was really snowy. Instantly, I stopped obsessing about it. I really can't express how grateful I am to both Jed and Nate for helping me through these difficult times--or explain the many, many ways they've helped me do what I need to do without losing or compromising my dignity. (What little I have left!)

On January 1 we left Lajitas and drove to Marfa, Texas, an odd little piece of Williamsburg (Brooklyn) that's about three hours by car from anywhere. In the 1970s, Donald Judd, a minimalist artist, bought about half the town and an old Army base and went about creating his art work and, not coincidentally, an artists' colony, in the middle of west Texas. Jed had been here five or so years ago, and he knew that the tours of the Chinati Foundation, which houses Judd's art, involved a lot of walking. But the Foundation was pretty accommodating of my needs. On the morning tour, which includes walks through huge buildings where Judd's big--and each subtly different--machined aluminum boxes are lined up, I was accompanied by Yolanda, one of the office staff, who carried a folding chair that I could sit on whenever I needed to rest. The buildings have huge windows, and the sun, which is pretty intense even in early January, reflects off the boxes, creating interesting effects of shadows, translucence, and so forth. Just sitting and looking at the boxes is almost meditative. Lovely.

In the afternoon, Nate and Jed figured out how to borrow a wheelchair from the two-room Marfa medical clinic, and we essentially got a private tour of the artworks, the highlight of which are fluorescent light installations by Dan Flavin. I had seen one of his installations a few years ago at the LA County Museum, but it was a lot of fun to be wheeled down the long halls into the tunnel-like recesses full of light.

In Marfa, we stayed at the historic hotel, a really gorgeous building with a downstairs lounge warmed by a fireplace, where I could hang out. Our room was quite nice, but up 24 steps, which I chose to climb once a day. (The elevator stopped operating decades ago. Jed offered to carry me up the steps, but I assured him that, even at 4,000 feet, I could climb them myself. I think he was amazed that I did, but they were not much of a problem. Once a day.)

And then, yesterday, Jed and Nate shared the 14 hour drive back to LA. My sister Paula is coming late this afternoon and staying for dinner, and tomorrow, Jed returns to law school and Nate and I return to Madison. I haven't checked the weather; I just assume it will be cold, very, and snowy, likewise.

We head to Chicago on Wednesday, and I have my appointment to sign the consent form for the Phase 2 study on Thursday morning, so presumably next week I will have something substantive to say about the medical aspect of this journey. See you then!

Happy New Year

Just a short post today to let you know that Jed, Nate, and I met up last night in El Paso and are headed to Marfa and on to Big Bend for the rest of this week. The trip has been amazingly easy for me--the hardest part was getting a hundred yards or so from the Van Galder bus outside Union Station in Chicago, through piles of rutted snow, into the station itself. But from there--duck soup! Red caps helped me onto an elevator, down to the very civilized lounge for sleeping car passengers, and then several hours later, onto a little cart which took me and my luggage right to my sleeping car.

Two days later, a red cap/cart took me, relaxed and happy, into LA's Union Station, where my college friend Claire met me. Claire and I, joined by our friend Deborah, spent two fine days mostly sitting around talking--joined by Jed and Nazgol for dinner on Friday as they were driving back to LA from northern California. And on Saturday, Debbie dropped me off at their apartment on her way home to San Diego. We spent the afternoon doing errands, including getting a smashing pair of red jeans--my Chankah gift from Nazgol--shortened. And we watched the sun set over the Pacific--lovely!

And yesterday at about 5:30 AM, Jed and I left for El Paso. He did most of the driving, an amazing feat, though I did take the wheel for an hour or so through Phoenix--the first driving I've done since early December. Glad to see it's a skill you don't lose! Got here in plenty of time to meet Nate's plane--he'd flown from Morocco to Madrid to Chicago to El Paso, with no problems.

So, off we go on our adventure!

Next Monday I will be traveling all day and have no access to the internet, so my next post will likely be on Tuesday, January 6. Have a great week and a happy new year!

Gifts

Last week, I got three wonderful gifts of a medical sort. First, the follow-up X-ray of my lungs was much improved after the pleurodesis, and the doctors agreed I was not crazy to get on the train tomorrow and head west. Second, they suggested that one of the reasons I was so tired was that I was marginally anemic, or maybe just plain anemic, and marginally in need of more red blood cells. So Friday I had a transfusion, and it has made me more peppy, though certainly not hugely energetic. And third, I learned, also on Friday, that I am still being considered for the Phase 2 study at the University of Chicago. I am to be there on Thursday morning, January 8, to sign the consent form and begin the further screening process. This means leaving Madison on Jan 7, less than two days after I get home from my trip to Clifornia and Texas--I just hope by then the weather has moderated a bit.

Obviously, this is all good news, and the sorts of gifts I can never repay. But it does occur to me that all you healthy people out there can help by going to your nearest blood bank and making a donation. I used to do this regularly as a young adult, and really, it's one of the most rewarding things I've ever done. They treat you like a very special person (which you are), and you know that you're making a really valuable contribution to someone's health.

Now I am in the very strange position of heading out of Madison to see friends and family over the holidays (and my sister Paula's birthday) and not taking a single gift with me. Not even a house gift of Wisconsin cheese or chocolate. I have barely been out of the house since the beginning of the month, and then chiefly on trips back and forth to the hospital and clinics. I haven't driven in weeks. And internet shopping seems particularly heartless to me. I've alerted my family to expecct their Chanukah gifts by Groundhog's Day. Still, it feels weird.

But I have seized on a conversation I had recently with my neighbor Bridget, a self-confessed "ambivalent Catholic," who was describing the priest's message at mass a week or two ago--about how this season is about presence, not presents. It does seem egotistical, if not egomanaical, to suggest that my friends and family shoulde be satisfied with my presence. But I know, from my experience the last couple of weeks, that people's presence is really what it's all about. I have been helped by so many people, in so many ways--from the doctors who made sure I got to my book party, to the hosts of the book party, to friends who brought food and comfort, did laundry, shoveled snow, drove me to the clinic and hospital and also on a little round of errands, helped me prepare for and totally cleaned up after last night's mini-solstice party... these people's help and their simple presence in my life has literally made it possible for me to function and progress beyond "invalid" status. These are the true gifts this season.

As the light grows stronger and the days longer, my wish for all of you is that people are present in your lives, as they have been for me. In the last chapter of Facing Fear, I write about the importance of community. But the chapter is really about the importance of other communities, in other places. I wish I had known, when I was writing that chapter, how much I would come to value my own community, my friends and neighbors. I would have included you all in the book.

Thank you. May you have holidays full of the presence of good friends and family.

Cancer Lessons

The past few days have confirmed, or re-taught, some of the lessons I've been learning for the past 3 1/2 years: have fun, know your limits, accept help, don't sweat the small stuff (and a lot of the "stuff" is smaller than you think).

Starting with the last of those lessons: On Wednesday last week, I drove down to Chicago to meet up with my college friend Claire, who was stopping over en route to an amazing family reunion on the east coast. After a good dinner at an Armenian restaurant, we walked to Navy Pier for a terrific fireworks show. When we got into the cab to head back to the hotel, I realized that my purse was strangely light. (I'd just started carrying a purse instead of the travel wallet I've held in my hands for years, if not decades.) I unzipped the purse--and discovered that the travel wallet was gone, along with a couple of hundred dollars (including the wonderful billfold designed and folded by my son Jed from twenty one-dollar bills), four credit cards, my drivers license, university ID, library cards, AARP and AAA cards... You get the idea.

We asked the cab driver to take us back to the restaurant (the last place I'd had the wallet out), but when Claire went in to inquire, she got nothing but blank stares from four waiters. She was, I think, more upset than I was. In fact, I was strangely un-upset. Believe me, worse things have happened. And I was kind of amazed (and embarrassed) that Sleazebag Nimblefingers had managed to unzip the purse, lift the wallet, and re-zip the purse without my noticing.

Fortunately, Jed and Nazgol were still in Madison, and Jed was able to find, in the mess in my study, most of the info I needed to report the theft to the credit card companies. I called Chase first, and was astounded and touched that one of the first questions the customer service person asked me was, "Are you safe?" Bank of America asked me (as part of their security check) what my work phone number was--and even though I retired nine years ago, the phone number came right to mind! And the cs person at the third company was able to cancel both that company's card and the one I hadn't yet called. All this took place less than two hours after the pickpocketing, but Sleazebag Nimblefingers had already charged drinks (I assume) at several bars and something (beer?) at gas stations and a Jewel market. I'm sure a good time was had by all that evening! And yes, I was out a chunk of change, but he or she no doubt needed it more than I do. Claire owed me her share of hotel room; she gave me cash, which was more than enough to buy gas and lunch enroute back to Madison.

Don't sweat the small stuff.

As for the help and limits-- Saturday I was joined by four wonderful biking friends (Diane, Angie and Jim, and Gail) on the TeamSurvivor Chocolate Chase fund-raising ride. Angie and Gail decided to do the 20 mile option. Jim and Diane asked what my goal was and when I said 10 miles, they started off with me. Jim lost us after a pit stop in a cornfield, and after only 3 1/2 miles, I told Diane that I had changed my mind and wanted to stop after the 4 mile route. The ride was a bit hilly, and I could tell that I just didn't have the stamina to ride another 6 miles and be able to do anything more than nap for the rest of the day. And I did have other plans for the afternoon and evening! So I sucked up my pride and called it quits. I think the limits on energy/endurance are related to lingering effects of the pneumonia, and I have no interest in courting a recurrence of that. So I'm actually proud that I knew and respected my limits. And that I had no qualms at all about accepting Angie and Jim's help in wrestling the bike back into the Subaru.

And--best of all, and a little reward (I think) for my good sense: at the raffle after the ride, I won a $20 gift certificate to David Bacco Chocolates, an expensive and exquisite place I have heretofore only patronized for gifts for others!

As for having fun: what could be more fun than the past week, which (in addition to the above) included two days with Jed and Nazgol including a visit to the House on the Rock tourist-attraction-supreme; an overnight stay in Wilmette, Illinois, with my high school friend Barbara; two concerts at the Token Creek chamber music festival; a walk at dusk with my friend Sandy in search of great horned owls...

This week it's back to what passes for normal life around here, with a CT scan and visit to the oncologist on Thursday, and who knows--probably, I'd guess--resumption of chemo. But there are still a few days before all that. And I'll post a health status report next Monday.

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

I have to say--this does feel a bit like a school assignment, even though I assigned it to myself and I really do like writing the blog. But after ten days or so of non-stop playing, it's a little shock to get back to the computer.

I really have been away from cyberspace for most of that time. Nate (younger son) and his partner, Meghan, arrived in Madison on Thursday, August 14. They'd moved out of their Somerville MA apartment a week or two before, and had been visiting various branches of Meghan's family on the east coast before heading west in their rental car. Eventually, after seeing lots of friends and more family and going to weddings east and west, they will head to Bogota, Colombia, where they both have fellowships for the next year to study and work on various aspects of environmental and human rights law. But the day after they got to Madison, we headed north to Duluth, where we met Jed (older son) and his partner, Nazgol, who had just flown into Minneapolis from France, where they were celebrating Nazgol's successful completion of her field exams for a PhD in sociology.

On Saturday 8/15 the five of us continued north, on Highway 61 (yes, the same one Bob Dylan named his second album after) along the shore of Lake Superior to Grand Marais. After a bit more provisioning (we'd already loaded up at coops in Madison and Duluth, as well as the Duluth farmers' market) we turned inland on the Gunflint Trail and drove another 43 miles into the Boundary Waters, where we'd rented a cabin for the week on Gunflint Lake. And what a week it was! Perfect weather, minimal mosquitoes and black flies, endless raspberries and blueberries ripe for picking, two canoes provided with the cabin, a rental motorboat and a fine restaurant at nearby Gunflint Lodge. Lots of swimming for the other four, though I didn't venture in because the water was pretty cold, reading, fishing, canoeing, game playing, conversation, relaxing. And really beautiful scenery, even though the opposite shore (Canada) suffered a devastating forest fire last summer.

One day we all canoed across Gunflint and Magnetic Lakes; then Jed and Nate took the canoes though a rapids and we went a short distance down river, picnicking on shore just above a small waterfall. I thought I'd paddle back, because we'd had a headwind on the way across, and I could benefit from the tailwind on the return. But of course--just like biking!--the wind shifted and intensified as we started home. So I paddled across Magnetic, and then, in the interest of getting back to the cabin before we all starved, turned the paddle over to Jed before we hit Gunflint. But I was pleased with my effort.

And the exercise stood me in good stead a few days later, at the dragon boat race in Superior. We all drove down on Friday, getting to the motel just after the TeamSurvivor bus arrived from Madison. Jed, Nazgol, Nate, and Meghan did me the honor of waking up early on Saturday, in time to watch me race at about 8:15 AM. Although TeamSurvivor raced in two heats, we had more paddlers than seats in the boat, so some of us--by the luck of the draw--had to sit out one race. I was not unhappy to be on the short end: between the stiff and cold headwind, my lingering pneumonia, the difference between practice (easy) and racing (intense--the longest three minutes you can imagine), and the opportunity to spend more time with my kids, it seemed to me good fortune to have only one race! And with luck, I'll have another chance at the Oshkosh dragon boat regatta in September.

Nate and Meghan headed west toward Glacier National Park mid-afternoon Saturday. Jed, Nazgol, and I spent a delightful hour or so at the Amazing Grace Cafe in Duluth's Canal Park with some of my biking friends from Eau Claire and Madison. Angie, Janet, Renee, Rene, and Eleanor (along with six other women) had just finished a loop ride from Duluth into the Mesabi Iron Range west of the Boundary Waters (Dylan's home town of Hibbing was on the loop). We all caught up on our latest adventures, and then Jed, Nazgol, and I drove to Minneapolis, returned the rental car, re-rented it, and drove back to Madison, arriving home about 2 AM on Sunday!

I was absolutely fried on Sunday, even though I slept in to 10:30, probably the latest I've slept in years, and all we did was grocery shop and go to an Obama fundraiser for a short time! But by yesterday (when I should have been writing the blog), I'd recovered enough to do a bunch of errands and then head out to House on the Rock to show Nazgol one of the area's prime tourist attractions. I remembered the place as totally exhausting, but in fact, it was a lot of fun. I think they've reorganized the exhibits so they're not as overwhelming as they used to be. Or I'm older. Or something! Anyway that--and eating out and watching a movie--was what I was doing yesterday instead of blogging.

Vacation continues this week with a short jaunt to Chicago--and next week, it's back to reality, with a CT scan and an appointment with the oncologist and, who knows, maybe even chemo. But I'll post again before that happens!

Picture Me.....

Today you get stories in pictures. The first (actually illustrated by the photo below) is a story I told a couple of weeks ago, about the wonderful bike ride I took on Mackinac Island the day before my biking friends headed out on their Upper Peninsula loop. Angie Mayr took this picture. It shows Janet Zimmerman (on the left) and me, and a tiny part of Lake Michigan.

Since that day (which really was a high point in the annals of my biking history), I've done two more short rides. As I think I reported, on the last day of the UP ride, I did the first 11 miles, into a headwind, not knowing that I had pneumonia. And this past week, on Friday, my friend Bonnie Wiesel and I rode from my house to the Olbrich Botanic Garden on Madison's east side (6 or 7 miles one-way) to see the butterfly exhibit. We saw quite a few butterflies emerging from their chrysalises--an amazing sight, because it happens literally in the blink of an eye. But really, I thought the people watching outdid the butterflies. I haven't seen so many babies and toddlers in decades! Plus little herds of day care kids and day campers, each herd wearing t-shirts of a particular identifying color. After we'd had our fill of butterflies and children, we walked a bit in the outside gardens, ate our Power Bars, and rode home. It was a beautiful day, and a lovely ride, for which I have Bonnie to thank, since it was her idea.

The other picture is more recent--from last Tuesday's reading in Chicago. Six of the contributors to the anthology Fresh Water: Women Writing on the Great Lakes read at the Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum, part of a summer-long Read Green, Live Green project sponsored by the Chicago Public Library. The participants: in the front row, Alison Swan, who edited the book and lives in Saugatuck, Michigan; Gail Louise Siegel, from Evanston, Illinois; and me. In the back row: Judith Arcana, who came all the way from Portland, Oregon (she used to be a Chicagoan); Susan Firer, currently Poet Laureate of Milwaukee; and Donna Seaman, of Chicago, who initiated the reading. Not shown in the photo: the great blue heron, the V of geese, and the rat who joined us as we read in the courtyard behind the museum. (To be honest, I didn't see the rat, but others did.)

The reading was an amazing event, well attended by an enthusiastic audience, including many people who were taking part in a workshop on the Great Lakes. The library provided an elegant reception spread of delicious hors d'oeuvres, and in addition to paying us honoraria, put us up in the Talbott Hotel downtown. I'm not accustomed to staying in hotels that provide terry cloth bathrobes and turn down the covers (leaving little chocolates on the pillows) before bedtime. But I could get used to it!

I had been concerned that, because of the pneumonia, I wouldn't be able to go to Chicago. But I was--and am--feeling much better, and the driving was a breeze, especially because my friend Janet lent me her I-Pass and I just whizzed through the innumerable toll plazas on I-90.

Now, on to the next adventure: getting together with my sons and my daughters-out-law at a cabin in the Boundary Waters (northern Minnesota). More on that next week!

The Can Do/Can't Do Ratio

Hello from Manistique, Michigan! Today (I'm writing this on Saturday July 26) was the last day of the MUP Shoreline bike ride, and the riders had a terrific tail wind most of the day, which was gloriously sunny. The ride ended where it started, in St. Ignace. We spent some time at the annual whitefish festival, which happened to be today, and then started to drive south, taking a brief detour to drive across the Mackinac Bridge, which connects Upper and Lower Michigan, and then back again.

I'm taking advantage of the Internet access and computer at the Comfort Inn where we're staying because I will be computerless when I get home Monday. I should be able to pick up my new computer Monday, but who knows how long it will take for me to set up the Internet connection. Better to write the blog today and set it to publish on Monday, I think.

Which I suppose is another instance of the can do/can't do ratio I've been thinking about today. This has not been the most wonderful vacation I ever took (in any event it would have a hard time competing with Mozambique and South Africa, the Galapagos, Hawaii, Japan, Egypt....). But I think the problem was the almost constant reminder of what I can no longer do, compared with what I can. I generally try to focus on what I can do, not what I can't, but that proved to be pretty hard, when everyone else was riding and talking about rides past, present, and future. Although my friends were very willing to ride slowly with me, the weather conditions, the nature of the beginning and ending of each day's route, and a mild virus that laid me low on Wednesday evening, combined to ensure that, other than the spectacular circumnavigation of Mackinac Island last Sunday, I only rode yesterday morning.

That was just 11 miles, into a headwind, and I was actually very lucky to do it between rain showers. Later in the day, the bikers were drenched by rain so heavy that the car windshield wipers couldn't keep up with it. I was thrilled not to be on a bike right then (and also on an earlier day, when my friends arrived at our B&B bedraggled and soaked, having just biked through an hour or two of storms).

Well, live and learn. It was good to be with my friends, and to revisit some sights (like Tahquamenon Falls) that I haven't seen in more than 20 years. But I don't think I'd do this kind of trip again. Makes me too sad because of the can do/can't do ratio.

On the other hand, I did finish proofing the galleys for Facing Fear, sitting in a variety of coffee shops, parks, and restaurants. So at least I accomplished something!

Finally, a reminder to all of you who send me personal comments through the blog and clearly want me to respond. I will not publish personal comments for everyone to read; I will not respond to personal comments on the blog; and I will only respond to you directly if you send me email. My email address is jlstrass@wisc.edu.

See you in August, from my new laptop!

Health Care Reform (and more personal matters)

(Note: I may not be able to post blog entries of much substance between now and about August 1. To learn why, see end of this entry.)

I know, I know-- you're probably more interested in my health and activities than in the arcane political jockeying among progressives on issues of health care reform. So I'm not going to go into detail on the politics, but just give you a heads-up on what apparently is going on. It's the old debate about different means to an agreed-on end, applied to a "new" old issue. To be specific: do we insist on pushing for a single-payer plan, or do we assume that's not going to happen in the near future, so we support incremental change that somehow mixes existing private insurance plans with some sort of subsidized insurance for people who can't afford or aren't eligible for private coverage?

Here's how the debate seems to be shaping up:

Rep. John Conyers has sponsored single payer legislation in Congress. HR 676, the U.S. National Health Insurance Act (also sometimes referred to as "Medicare for all") was endorsed in late June by the U.S. Conference of Mayors, and has received more media attention than one might expect for a "radical" proposal.

And you may have heard about the HCAN campaign that's ramping up. HCAN is an acronym for Health Care for America Now, a $40 million organizing and media campaign sponsored by a fairly broad coalition including unions, Move On, Planned Parenthood, and others. Maybe AARP? I haven't checked on that. According to a Move On fundraising plea, the campaign will fund 100 organizers "on the ground" (which doesn't seem like very many, considering the size of the country), plus TV and radio ads, etc. HCAN advocates an incremental, "any reform is better than what we have" approach.

You can find out more about both these approaches by Googling HR 676 and HCAN. I'd be interested in knowing which strategy you favor.

And now a few things about me: I've been home for a week now, and am getting ready for my next trip, a week plus a couple of days on Michigan's Upper Peninsula. I'm going with five friends who are signed up for a bike tour sponsored by the League of Michigan Bicyclists; they'll do a 6-day loop, including one rest day, starting at St. Ignace (near the famous Mackinac Bridge) and heading first north and a little east, and then west and south. I'm signed up as a "non-rider," since there's no way I can ride 60 miles a day, and will spend time entertaining myself while the others are riding, but eating breakfasts and dinners with them and also hanging out with them in the evenings and on the rest day and the day before the ride starts, when I think we'll go to Mackinac Island.

I'm planning to do some sight-seeing (the tour organizers promise a special sight-filled route for non-riders) and also, I think, will be proof-reading Facing Fear, which is supposed to go to the printer in early August. And I'm taking my bike; I hope that I will be able to ride a little of the route in reverse from the end each day, and meet my friends as they're coming into town.

As I said above, my blog posting may be a little spotty, or even non-existent, between now and late July or early August. Next Monday (7/21) I will be traveling between St. Ignace and De Tour Village, Michigan. If there's a library with internet connection for non-natives in the Village, and if I have time, I'll post something Monday, but it might be more likely to find both time and internet on Tuesday or Wednesday, when we'll be in Sault Ste. Marie.

I'm not taking my computer with me; in fact, my current laptop will spend my time in Michigan with the people who are selling me a new laptop, so they can move stuff from this hard drive to the new one. I'll probably pick up the new computer on Monday 7/28, and it should be ready to go--except for my wireless connection, which I'll have to re-install. So maybe I'll be able to post on 7/28, and maybe not. You know how it is with new technology.... No promises! Except that my sons, who lobbied heavily for replacing this admittedly cranky four-year-old beast, and who even made the initial phone calls to the vendor, assure me that I will be thrilled with the new laptop. Even though it will be a PC, not a Mac.

Now a word about my health: it's terrific to be off chemo! I can tell the neuropathy is getting better because my balance is much improved. And so's my digestion. Not to mention my mood. And I think so far the tumors are behaving themselves.

One more thing-- for those of you in Chicago, or inclined to visit Chicago for a day, I will be reading at the Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum in Lincoln Park on Tuesday, August 5, at 6:30 PM. The reading is part of the Chicago Public Library's Read Green, Live Green program; I and other contributors will be reading from the anthology Fresh Water: Women Writing on the Great Lakes.

Vacation Begins!

I'm writing this at 9 AM on Saturday, June 21--though it won't be posted until Monday, when I'll be in Boston (Somerville, actually), visiting Nate and Meghan. Nate doesn't know it yet (as I'm writing), but I'm planning to leave Madison very early tomorrow morning, arriving at his house in time for his birthday party tomorrow afternoon. As I explained in last Monday's post, in my mind this is almost as much a celebration of my 27 years as a cancer survivor as of Nate's thirtieth birthday.

Speaking of cancer survivors: here's a photo of some of the members of TEAMSurvivor Madison and the TSM dragon boat, which has been moved to Rutabaga's back lot--but has not yet been in the water. The man in the picture holding the dragon head is the boat's builder, Jim Caldwell, who donated hundreds and hundreds of hours to the project, beginning in March. You can get an idea of how big the boat is when you realize that you can't even see all of it in the picture.

So vacation has begun! In about a half hour, I will disconnect from my chemo pump, and with luck, I won't have any more chemo until after Labor Day. And tomorrow will be the first of six trips, big and little, I have planned for the next two months: two to the east coast, two to Chicago, one to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and one to the Boundary Waters in northern Minnesota. That one ends with a day at the Dragon Boat Festival in Superior, Wisconsin.

Sounds like a lot of fun. Now, if the tumors will just behave.....