Originally published 100723

1992

“You know how weird I am. That’s not going to go away.”

Yeah. I said that.

As I was proposing.

Hey, if you can’t be honest with the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, what’s the point?

Besides, she already knew. I just didn’t want to hurt her.

Again.

2022

We planned to celebrate our 30th anniversary (and retirement) with a trip to Europe.

But you know, stuff happened.

My prostate cancer is the good type.

You’ll die of something else before this kills you.
— My Upbeat Urologist

But that’s not the reason we couldn’t go.

2023

I was first in line on the morning of May 17th (Susan’s 65th birthday).

Early that afternoon, we (Susan, me, and the new knee) were home.

A few hours later, we were at Urgent Care.

A new knee and (what would become) 34 days in the hole.

Susan laughed in sympathy, “You can’t do anything the normal way.”

Picking a movie last night. Susan had the remote.

“How about The English Teacher?”

I looked up. “Two of the keywords are fun and weird.”

“You’re fun and weird.”

Man, I love that woman.

---

Context: I’ve always told Noël, Weird is good. Creepy is bad.

Update: (2024) Recent political discourse has turned weird into a pejorative. I consider malevolent a more accurate descriptor, though (they’re beyond creepy).

My right knee was trashed. The long and winding road to a total knee replacement takes years. COVID didn’t help. When the call finally came (a few short months before our district health insurance was set to expire), we said yes and took the trip the next year.

Update: (2025) “It’s still not going to kill you, but…” Only 14 days with the catheter this time (after the robot-assisted radical prostatectomy).  Update: (2026) PSA holding at < 0.01 ng/mL. Life with occasional leaks seems a small price to pay.

Featured Image: Hang on to what you can.

---