Justine got me this mug last year and it makes me smile everytime I drink out of it.

The funny part…it’s so true.  I AM a handsome devil.

And you, too, can be a handsome devil by simply drinking out of this mug.

Happy Leap Day everyone (and happy Friday too).

-Dave

Justine finished putting up the tree this evening.  She tells me it is not finished, but there are lights and bulbs on it, so it looks pretty finished to me.

I look forward to all of the amazing holiday decorations this year.

-Dave

Link (via Neat-O-Rama)

-Dave

Well I did it. I completed the Avon Walk for the Cure. Or, I should say, I completed 20 miles of it.

The first day was unusually hot and humid for Chicago, and I managed to not put my orthotics in my old walking shoes. My reasoning? “I’ll just wear these old trainers today and throw them away. Since I have a Herculean pain tolerance I’m sure the lack of orthotics won’t affect me in the slightest. In fact I’m certain I shall sail across the finish line at an alarming rate of speed!” Blah blah, you get it. Maybe it was the fact I had to get up at like 3:30 a.m. the morning of The Walk to get the shuttle.

Sidebar: all those years growing up in Illinois I never noticed the Chicago/Northern Illinois accent, but wow did it grate on my ears at zero dark thirty in the freaking a.m. Picture that SNL skit w/a bunch of women saying stuff like “Oh my gaaaahd, I key-ant believe I laaahst my comb!” crammed into a bus w/no caffein. Not quite hell, but the view includes it.

Anywho. In short, at mile 10 that first day I seriously began questioning my sanity. I considered quitting, I considered calling my mommy, and lying down on the sidewalk at various points. Gatorade, a semi-decent lunch and about 10 minutes of sitting down, and my perspective changed just enough to get me to the halfway mark, 13.something miles. Back at the campsite (ironically termed the Wellness Village, where people were lying on stretchers wrapped in foil blankets w/IVs sticking out, like strung-out baked potatoes), I staggered in, befuddled and even irritated by the clapping horde that greeted me there. All the way to the gear pickup site (which I’m sure was at least another 13 miles) I was bargaining w/myself…..”Ok, just a few more steps and you can just lie down on top of your backpack and rest. Then you can bail out and spend tonight in your nice fluffy bed back at Mom’s house. With a very large martini. Yeah, that’ll do it.”

I don’t know if was the congratulations heaped on me by the sweet-faced little 12 year-old girlscout who set up the tent for me, or my almost complete physical exhaustion, but I ended up staying, and I slept like the proverbial dead after what was probably the world’s most luxurious shower, followed immediately by the most delicious pasta dinner I’ve ever had in my life. Or at least it tasted that way.

Upon awakening (at dawn! Imagine my horror!) I was shocked to learn that I could still move my arms and legs. Getting out of the tent was comical, what with not being very limber, but I managed, and staggered off to breakfast after stowing my gear. My left Achilles, which periodically likes to take a vacation, was so sore I couldn’t walk without limping, but I threw down a few Aleve and grunted onward. The 2nd day wasn’t nearly as stultifying, and I met up with two wonderful women who were having a similar “Oh Holy Crap What The Hell Have I Gotten Myself Into And Oh By The Way Would It Be Possible For You To Just Smite Me Right The Hell NOW” experience. Long story short, we formed a strategy and finished over 6 miles that day (including a brief detour to a liquor store on Upper Wacker for some celebratory Schnapps).

I’m going to reveal something here, something you will possibly find maudlin or cheesy, but ….. when we 3 crossed that finish line, bandaged, blistered (left that part out), limping, exhausted, amazed, and just utterly beyond our physical limits, we all burst into tears. The crowds were applauding all of us wildly, and for the first time I think I realized how many peoples’ lives are affected by breast cancer. It was jaw-dropping. At the closing ceremony, we all hugged and cried and literally leaned on each other and it was one of the most powerful experiences of my entire life.

I almost can’t explain it. The closest thing I can get to describing the feeling I had at the end is “oceanic”–I was part of something that raised $8.3 million dollars and had over 3,600 walkers. I connected with some really cool women who kept me going when I didn’t think I could do it, and with a community of women and men who were all trying to effect a change. I felt part of something way bigger than myself, something without judgement or censure like the religion of my formative years, something positive and important. And it fucking rocked.

Two weeks later, I still can’t quite believe I walked as far as I did given how truly awful I felt those two days. But I did. I was on total high for about 3-4 days, like a goddamn rockstar! Unconquerable. Walking like an arthritic duck, but extremely proud of myself. The Walk has truly changed how I think of my body and what it’s capable of; not just short, explosive bursts of the kind of strength I used to use in shotput and rugby, but extended hours of pavement-pounding, shoe-ruining walking. I have a newfound respect for long-distance runners and the mental toughness it requires. I no longer shy away from long treadmill sessions at the gym or roll my eyes when my trainer slaps more weights on the bar. I will never be the same again.

So, a huge thanks to all you donors who read this blog and who donated to my Avon Walk for the Cure. You helped a lot of underserved women get better access to affordable, life-saving healthcare, and you also helped put me squarely on a path towards living a much fuller and healthier life. And….I’m doing the walk again in April 2008 in Houston, which just got added to the roster of Walk cities. Come cheer me on!

Or failing that, just send me your money. Save the boobies, save the world.

Let me preface the dialog by explaning that we must clean up after the dog in apartment complex we live in. I do this by wrapping a plastic bag around my hand and picking up the poo. I then turn the bag inside out, hopefully never touching said poo. However, it was a little more difficult recently.

The conversation went something like this:

Dave - Hey honey, when I walked Queenie last night she had some potty issues.

Justine – Oh, sorry honey. Was it bad?

Dave - It was like trying to pick up pudding while wearing mittens.

Justine – (Laughs) Oh yuck.

Dave – See I knew this would be funny shortly after I stopped gagging and scrubbing my hands clean.

Thankfully for you, dear reader, I do not have a photo for this post. However, you can buy some here if you’d like.

-Dave

Queenie and I are holding down the fort here in Houston and hoping she has a wonderful time.  Well, I’m hoping she has a wonderful time.  Queenie is mostly licking her ass and begging for treat.

-Dave

Hey y’all.

I’m here in East Jesus, TX working. The company I’m working for ran short-staffed, so here I is, ministering to the copious mental health needs of old peeps.

I’ve learned the following things over the last several months of working extensively with oldsters:

1. maintain good relationships w/other humans so you have decent company after getting placed in a nursing home
2. brush your teeth regularly, maybe even floss
3. keep walking and doing activities that keep you flexible and strong as long as you can in life
4. don’t decide you’re going to wear a diaper all the time “just for the hell of it”–this is not a good strategy
5. keep your brain challenged, stimulated, active
6. use lots of skin-softening and moisturizing lotion
7. eat lots of choline-rich foods
8. develop hobbies and interests you can pursue well into old age
9. if it burns when you pee, tell somebody!

Oh, there’s lots more. This is just my first run-down of stuff I’ve figured out. I’ve actually started taking more vitamins/supplements and eating more veggies since I starting treating this population. It’s just scary as hell to have your brain blink out long before your body is ready to.

Tomorrow I return home, back to the land of soy lattes, Thai food, and my beloved beyonce Dave. And Queenie, our delightfully mentally retarded and very hairy doghter! I will miss the Cajun cuisine this part of the world offers, but I come back next week so I’ll meet my crawfish etouffe quota then. Toodles, y’all!

There are some amazing monuments throughout the facility and some famous people are buried there, most notibly, Howard Hughes (the first photo below is his grave/monument).

I thought it was a peaceful place, but I think Justine was a little weirded out by all the graves. Regardless, it was nice to have some peace and quiet in the middle of the city. Enjoy the photos…

- Dave

1. 2 Dozen roses
2.  A littel dog vomit (don’t ask).
3. Dinner at Vic & Anthony’s
4. Some gifts from me in a little blue box
5. A little dancing on the rooftop of our building

Other than the dog vomit, we both had a lovely time.  It’s not every day a girl turns 28 you know.

-Dave