The Queen is back in her castle. All is right in the world.
Thanks for the warm wishes last week. The community that has sprung forth from this blog is notable for its kindness, for which I am grateful. It's also nice to see some familiar names that followed this space as far back as the Tour de France days still checking in. Say what you will about social media and the internet, but I lucked out with this readership.
Got a new book deal last week. It's equal parts running and history, which is all I can say right now. This is the first time in my career I've combined my two passions. I'm very excited. As I've traveled deeper into my career, I'm happy to be taking on projects that really test my creativity and storytelling. This is one of those books. Frankly, I thought Taking Paris was a challenge. Then Berlin and London. Taking Midway was so over-the-top demanding there were days I would sit here at the writing desk and wonder how in the world I was going to pull all the disparate threads together. I'm really excited to share it with all of you when it hits stores in May.
The lights are hung. Mantel decorated. Tree standing tall next to the piano, covered in ornaments, listing ever so slightly. Alexa playing Christmas music. Today, I'm going to buy a small tree for the courtyard and decorate it with the ceramic C9 lights I picked up at Lowe's. I couldn't believe they still had Christmas lights for sale after Thanksgiving.
We're not doing a card this year. Actually, we stopped sending cards once the boys grew up. I used to write a Christmas letter, believing that because I'm an author my Christmas letters were somehow less annoying than the rest of the world's. I keep them all in a file. Went back to have a look at them not so long ago. They are a snapshot of what was going on in our lives each of those years.
Django blew out his ACL and the vet says the surgery for an old dog is beyond expensive. So he prescribes pain pills and time, saying the joint will calcify. The doggie day care acknowledges his wound by putting a yellow band around his neck to indicate his limp is an injury. Combined with his normal blue collar it looks like he's wearing the flag of Ukraine around his neck. The place is now synonymous for anxiety, unpredictability, and complete What the Fuck.
"Charge system fault." That's what I googled in the waiting room. The warning light had just come on in the Rover. Red and important.... Google told me precisely what would happen next. One by one, my car's electrical functions would shut down. Then it would stop completely. Just a matter of time. Get to a mechanic immediately.
We got a little sideways news from the cancer docs that day. The kind that reminds you that the things you thought were under control have other plans
1 p.m. Father's Day. Gift to myself: a new power washer. There's something amazing about a high pressure machine to clean every last bit of the backyard pavers and deck. It's like cleaning your physical soul. I tend to do this barefoot, just because there's something about walking around without shoes on when the sun is out and the pavers are warm.
I usually write these missives on Sunday. It's my down day for the week and my mind is free to wander. But Calene and I spent the weekend in San Diego, hanging out with our oldest son to celebrate his birthday. There was no agenda. We wandered the waterfront to start the morning, stopping to tour the USS Midway, something I suggested because I'm writing a book about the Battle of Midway and the visit felt like a fine symbolic gesture. I also thought it was a great way to kill an hour or so.
Last week in this space I hinted at some good news about Calene's cancer. It's actually great news, the first positive steps the fight has taken in two years. But I've learned that in the cancer world it's best to hedge your bets. Every cancer ward has a bell, for instance, usually hanging in the lobby. I used to think that ringing the bell was a sign that the bell-ringer had defeated cancer once and for all. Only recently have I learned that some people ring it after a course of chemo or radiation, celebrating the stepping stone. This bothered me, though it's really not my place to be bothered by when and why people decide to ring the bell.
