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Well, I finally did it. I fulfilled a promise to my late girlfriend, Sarah Smith, and had the dreaded colonoscopy. The diet modification for this procedure begins a week in advance and, on the day before, you are instructed to consume only liquids. This is some good advice, because that night’s prep is eventful, and not in a good way.

Dogs are great but that doesn’t mean everyone should have one, especially young people whose lives are in flux.
That is why, when son Jack came home from a dog walk in the woods with friends and announced he was thinking of adopting a dog he just met, I was vehemently opposed.

My neighborhood is full of grown children that are home from college and elsewhere, sheltering in place and strolling in the sunshine with their parents. Who would have thought that in January, when I was renovating the carriage house in my backyard, that it would soon be occupied by son Jack, forced to move home from college because of a world-wide pandemic?

Let’s Lent! By that, I mean everyone can participate in the Christian tradition of Lent that began this past Tuesday, known as Mardi Gras (or Shrove Tuesday). You don’t have to be an Anglican Christian to observe a Lenten practice for 40 days. I have Baptist friends and evangelical friends that also enjoy the season of self-improvement.

I am often aligned with creative people. In the past, I wondered why, because I didn’t feel like I had any discernible art-form. Then, one day, while interviewing a guest on Up In Your Business, I realized that business itself is creative and that problem solving with others, in the frame of business, is my art-form.

I’ve blogged about it before: anger is a secondary emotion. It comes after a vulnerable emotion like being tired, hurt, disappointed, or lonely. It’s a defense mechanism. And with this sequence of pain comes anger, then “the voice;” that internal negative repertoire in your head. For lack of a better description, I call this nagging voice “devils speak” because, if repeated over and over in your head, it will map a really nasty little neuron pattern in your brain. And if that ain’t some kind of devil, I don’t know what is.

Yes, it all happened casually, without much thought. I’m sitting in my hairdresser’s (stylist’s) chair, talking about how much I wish I could still wear big, hoop earrings, when she says, “Well, get another ear piercing and you can.” How? Whatever did she mean?
Her assistant overhears and says, “Oh yeah, just put it higher up on the ear. And by the way, if you go, I want to go and let’s get our nipples pierced.” (God, I hope my granddaughter is not reading this).

Last summer, Mrs. Elm got some bad news; she was diagnosed with incurable Dutch Elm disease. I was crushed at her prognosis and wrote about it in an earlier blog post. In that post, I professed that there are many unexplained miracles and cures that happen every day and, if there’s no scientific cure for Mrs. Elm, then it is time to move to plan B–a miracle. To enlist a miracle, you must have hope, faith, prayer, and ritual.

As I pulled out on to Markham a young dog, about the size of a standard poodle, runs in front of me and towards this bicyclist on the opposite sidewalk. The Bicyclist and I thought he was running to attack him. But no. There, in the oncoming lane, lay a big black lab. He’d been hit by a car and his dog companion was seeking help. It must have just happened.