No Laughing Matter?

"I was diagnosed with cancer in 2000. Lymphoma. I lost a testicle... my HMO had a really crappy co-pay." -- Robert Schimmel

When I first heard that line -- spoken during a radio interview Schimmel did on the "Bob and Tom" show -- as I was driving down to Las Cruces almost three weeks ago, I very nearly drove the 6 off I-25, I was laughing so hard.

I'd like to say I've grown, and become ever-so-slightly more relaxed and comfortable with my ailment in the 20 months since I was diagnosed with TC. To an extent, I think, I have. But I can't claim a newfound ability to laugh at TC... because I've actually cracked jokes about it for awhile now.

The first one I remember was a little over one month after the surgery, during one of my first trips back to The Old Crow in Dallas (sidenote: I MISS THE CROW!!!!!) with a few of my former coworkers. One of them -- who I've never especially liked -- sneered something along the lines of "so, you're down to one, huh?"

"Yeah, but that's OK," I replied. "Your wife has both of yours." It was reflex, a knee-jerk response, and it was one of the most singularly brilliant things I've ever said (current and past AG'ers know who I'm talking about, and know why it was such a good line.)

In the months that followed, I became a little more comfortable with joking about being, well, "down to one." I told another friend I had developed a case of "nut rot," only to have to settle her down and reassure her that, actually, testicular cancer wasn't as bad as that.

When on a skateboarding mission with Monk in Denton last year (one year ago Monday, in fact) I had to stand on an electrical transformer box to catch the shot just right. "It's not so much that you keep biffing the trick," I told him. "It's the amount of electromagnetic energy irradiating my ballsack right now that most frustrates me."

I've commented to others I'll always be a Republican, because I still have the right one. And I'm still waiting on my call for a date from Sheryl Crow, who apparently isn't put off by the Uniball* concept (then again, I don't have seven consecutive Tour de France titles under my belt, either. Sigh.)

Last week, when I called and left a message for my friend Lee, I mentioned on voicemail I had my first New Mexico doctor's appointment the next day. "This won't be a big deal, just an appointment to get the ball rolling again." A pause. "That could be a pun, I guess, though it wasn't meant to be."

The loss of 50% of that which makes you a man isn't funny... except for the fact that, yeah, I admit, it kinda is. In the months that followed the surgery, as I became comfortable enough to sing in the car once again... I questioned whether my voice had suddenly gotten higher. (It hadn't.) I would also sometimes wonder if my... pectorals... weren't getting bigger (it's because I'm overweight and out-of-shape, not because I'm not producing enough testosterone.)

I've dreamed The Other One has fallen off. Twice. Ya gotta admit, that's hilarious. (If you don't see it, imagine the frantic -- then relieved -- self-grope upon waking.)

Fact of the matter is... I think I've laughed about this more than I've cried. I'm chuckling to myself now as I write this.

And on this, the one year anniversary of the "there's a spot on your lung," that's what I'm choosing to focus on. Oh, and also the fact my new doctor, an affable British chap, described observation checkups for TC as "well-baby" visits during my appointment last week. "Just to reassure everybody that everything's fine," he explained.

I think I'm going to like my doctor. I also think the day you can laugh at cancer, is the day a corner is turned.

*I'll never look at a certain brand of pens the same way again.

The 'New Mexi-fication' Continues

Well, now comes the reality part of the New Mexico move. On Wednesday, I'll have my first cancer check-up that won't be with Dr. Bhogaraju. I do have to say that so far, I've been very impressed by UNM's Cancer Center, though... they scheduled me with their 'specialist' for TC, which is reassuring to hear. I only hope I won't be requiring the services of a "specialist."

In happier news... I continue to settle back into life in NM... a process I've started calling my "New Mexi-fication" (I'm still waiting for my license plate. And no, I haven't yet paid my $200 speeding ticket, although I know I'll have to do that soon.)

I'm really loving having a balcony again, instead of a first-floor patio. I've taken to sitting outside in the morning, waiting for the sun to come up over the Sandias... and again in the evenings, during sunset. In addition to providing the opportunity for some neat pictures (see top photo) it also puts me outside when the hummingbirds are most active.

I gotta say, I've become very attached to the three hummers who have laid claim to my feeder... the closest things to pets I have (except for Abby of course.) It looks like I have a male and female adult pair (I think all three are black-chinned hummingbirds) and a baby who's grown considerably in the past two months... in fact, all of them are quite a bit fatter now.

The "baby" is the most adventurous of the three. While all of them have buzzed me (hummingbirds are very curious) the baby regularly hovers over my laptop computer when I'm working outside. Always a comfortable distance away, of course, but closer than the others. 

And yesterday morning, when one of the adults tried to chase it away from the feeder (hummingbirds are also aggressive little buggers) the baby "hid" behind me as I stood at the railing! The adult hovering in front of me didn't know what to think.


Yesterday afternoon, I was able to drive down to the Sunport, and watch planes for hours. Took some photos, including a shot of an Osprey tiltrotor hover-taxiing along runway 3. I also grabbed pics of good 'ol Skyhawk 62507, the first plane I ever flew completely by myself.

And lastly... as I mentioned, last weekend I drove down to Las Cruces to spend the weekend with a friend of mine named Ana, who I've known going back to my days at DMC. She left the company around the same time I moved to Dallas, and today she works for Tricore as, of all things, a phlebotomist -- someone who draws blood for medical testing, an area I've become quite familiar with in the past 18 months.

Ana is... special. She's one of the sweetest and most genuine people I've ever known. We talked about pursuing a romantic relationship back in 2005, but the timing wasn't right. Now, two years later... well, we're checking the timing again, very cautiously. She has her emotional baggage, I have mine, and we're each aware of that.

The highest compliment I can give her... is that I can't think of a single person who I call friend, or family, who wouldn't like her. I admit, I'm smitten, and she is, too. So, we'll see where it goes (if I have finally learned only one thing in this area throughout my life, it's to NOT RUSH THESE THINGS.)

You Bastards!

It had been a good day. I'm finally starting to feel recovered from the OSH experience, and it looks like we have a candidate for the Weekend Editor position at ANN who I think will be a great asset.

Combined with sunny skies... and one especially brave hummingbird, that has taken to flying right up to me when I'm outside working; one of these days, I think the ballsy little bird is going to try to land on the laptop screen... it had been a pretty good Friday. A necessary trip back to the DMV looked to only temper that slightly.

I shoulda waited until I got back to check my mail... but alas, I didn't. There was but one letter in the mailbox...

...From the Albuquerque Police Department...

...Photo STOP Division.

Knowing full well I haven't run any red lights, I opened the envelope... and was greeted with photographic evidence that my car was at the intersection of Montgomery and San Mateo on July 31st. The ticket -- for $200! -- states I was doing 45 in a 35 mph zone.

I'm not necessarily disputing that I may have been speeding; I would like to know whether the other four cars in one of the photos -- one of which I believe I recall was passing me -- were also ticketed, or did APD instead focus on the lone Texas plate in the bunch. Most gratingly of all... I had no idea the damn cameras -- also used in Dallas -- could give speeding tickets, too.

And I really wonder if that's right or not. The "officer's signature" on the ticket is an illegible scribble, that looks a little like binary code, shrunken to the height of a micron.

Today's the day I became a Libertarian. Wait, I was one already... nuts. Anyway, as I contemplate whether to fight this injustice or not -- no points are taken off your license whether you dispute it or pay, which means this is nothing but a pure money-grab by the city, nothing more -- I'm planning to visit my friend Ana in Las Cruces this weekend.

And I'm tempted to drive at 35 mph for the whole 220-mile trip.

What A Nice Day For A... Zzzzz...

Damn my 31-year-old, out-of-shape body anyway. I had big plans for this weekend. Great, relaxing, touristy-appreciation-of-New-Mexico, as-much-fun-as-you-can-have-without-an-airplane plans. See, ever since I got my car, I've wanted to see what it could do along a certain stretch of highway in New Mexico.

Highway 4, to be exact. The back road up to Los Alamos, through the Jemez Mountains.

Nothing too challenging, mind you... but more than a few switchbacks, horseshoe curves and cliff-hugging straightaways to see what 212-horsepower, a six-speed manumatic, ABS brakes and a decent suspension can do, in the proper setting. Zoom-zoom, and all that. All without breaking any road rules.

Well, not too many, anyway.

That was the plan for Saturday morning: get up at six, make some coffee and a breakfast burrito (that has become a weekend tradition of mine since returning to NM... with extra-hot green chile, of course) and head out for the 2.5-hour drive at around 8:30. That way, it'd still be cool enough to have the window down, and I'd get into Los Alamos -- my favorite NM town -- around 11 or so. Even taking the rest of the trip at a more relaxed pace, I'd still be back in Albuquerque by 3, at the latest.

That was the plan.

It went to hell at around 8:00, when I fell asleep on my couch. And again on Sunday morning, when I inadvertently slept in until 10 am.

And even today, I harbored a faint ambition to take the drive EARLY, so I could be back home, and back to work, by noon. I fulfilled one of those goals: I turned on my computer at 12:07 pm, after being woken up by my boss calling me, asking "um, you there?"

It's been one week since I returned from Oshkosh. I've slept for a good part of it -- getting at least 6-7 hours of sleep each night, and more often than not a nap in the afternoon. And I'm STILL beat. It probably has something to do with starting July with a 650-mile move, ending it with the biggest air show of the year, with a trip to Seattle tossed in between for good measure.

Maybe I should be surprised I'm not falling asleep on my keyboard.

I HAVE managed to get a few things done away from home. I got my New Mexico driver's license last week... and would have gotten my license plate as well, but for New Mexico having to obtain a copy of the car title from the lien holder. So, I have about another week or so to drive a Texas-plated car. I'm cherishing those days; having a New Mexico license plate will be the final affirmation I'm back in Albuquerque, an admission I'm still not 100 percent comfortable with.

To that end, I still haven't taken my TollTag off the windshield... and ya know what? I may never take it off.

Also went to see "The Simpsons Movie" Saturday night with Jen. Good movie, lotsa laughs, but not worth a $10 ticket. No, I didn't fall asleep in the theater. Had coffee at Double Rainbow -- wait, now it's Flying Star -- afterward.

OK, so being back here isn't ALL bad. I'm still enjoying watching "hummingbird wars," and sitting on the balcony in the evening, watching the sunset against the Sandias (or, lately, the rain over the city,) typing ANN stories to post at midnight on the laptop (as shown above; beer is optional). It's a nice routine... and it ALMOST beats hearing the roar of jets overhead, on approach to land at Addison.

But God, I do still miss Dallas.

Oshkosh, B'Gosh

Hi everybody! ("Hi, Dr. Nick!" -- sorry, I'm seriously jonesing to see the new 'Simpsons' movie.)

Wow... what a week. I'm happy to report Aero-News kicked serious ass with our coverage of AirVenture 2007. It involved a lot of hard work from everybody involved... but I'd confidently pit our print, audio and brand-new Aero-TV coverage against anyone else's out there.


The professionalism shown by our new print stringers and video journalists simply floored me... especially when we had to cover an unfortunate accident at Wittman Field on Friday. It's a lesson we'd have preferred to not have experienced... but everyone came together, as the professionals we are, and we got the job done. Nothing impressed me more than having several of the stringers call me as news got out -- such situations are referred to as "all-call" events at ANN -- and their first questions to me were, "where do you need me to be?"

So now, after a grueling long series of 'Northwerst' Airlines flights (at least my flights weren't cancelled, unlike 13 percent of that wannabe-airlines' schedule this weekend -- the industry average is less than one percent) I'm back in the 'Burque, where I'm looking forward to not having to go anywhere for awhile.

Maybe the apartment will now start to feel like "home," and less like a large hotel room that, somehow, has all my furniture in it. And I guess I'll have to break down and get a New Mexico license plate and driver's license now, too.

Back to Oshkosh for a moment... like I said, we covered AirVenture like a high-thread count news-reporting blanket (I apologize for my metaphors -- this is what happens when you sleep in, and have your morning coffee at noon.) But there were moments for some "fun," too... as seen below.

I was able to grab some stick time in a new light sport offering from Poland, called the Gobosh G-700S. Like others in the segment -- including the SportStar -- it's an all-metal plane, low-wing, with a bubble canopy. The cockpit is a little snug (that's my own fault, not the plane's) but surprisingly comfortable, and the plane flies much like any other low-wing LSA.

As you can see, Aero-TV was there, too, covering the flight... including video of my less-than-stellar takeoff. I over rotated the plane -- it seemed more sensitive to pitch inputs than the Sport  (though again, much of that was my own fault.) The flight itself was very nice; I was able to experience "VFR on top" for the first time, where you climb through a gap in low-hanging cloud cover to fly in visual conditions on top, in bright sunshine and blue skies.

I'll post more when I have time. For now, though... pass the green chile!

Floating Birds, Hummingbirds... Wounded Birds

I awoke Tuesday morning to a familiar whoooosh sound. Familiar... but foreign, too. It took me a few seconds to place it.

Balloon!

I rushed out onto the balcony -- camera in hand -- and caught some quick pictures of the first official hot air balloon sighting of my return to New Mexico. "Official," because this was the first time I was able to capture photographic proof; I saw one a LOT closer to the apartment last Saturday, but didn't have my camera at the time.

So, that was a pretty neat way to wake up, I think. Come Balloon Fiesta time, this place should be a neat spot in the mornings.

As I type this, I'm preparing to head north of Seattle, for the annual Arlington air show. I sincerely hope I make it there, as the trip is on US Airways -- rated in most major polls as the single worst airline in the country. Should be fun. I leave EARLY Thursday, get back EARLY Monday (as in, 3:00 am) and then have all of three days to get ready for Oshkosh, which already looks to be an arduous show.

I bitch... but it's better than sitting in a cubicle.


In addition to propane burner wake-up calls, I've also been able to become reacquainted with some other trappings of the Land of Enchantment, too. I have regular hummingbird guests to my feeder -- I hadn't realized how much I missed hummingbirds!

Sunday, I drove my Mom and I up to Sandia Crest... a tourist-y thing, OK, but it was also cool to be in the mountains again. And, it should be noted, at an altitude of 10,678 feet -- over 10,000 feet higher than standing outside my door in Addison. My former door in Addison.

And speaking of Texas... I stumbled upon the reason why "my" plane went down for repairs the week before I left Dallas. There's an NTSB report on it, which is never a good sign. Turns out a crosswind caught the plane during takeoff from Grand Prairie, and sent the plane off the runway and into a shallow drainage ditch. As the prelim states, one of the maingear legs and the nosegear gave way... which probably led to wing damage, as well as a prop strike and, maybe, engine damage (the blades of the plane's Woodcomp prop are designed to splinter off, which in theory saves the engine from seizing.)

Both people onboard are OK, which of course is the most important thing... but N676EV is the first plane I've ever flown, that later got wrecked. I honestly don't know if it will ever fly again; it's off the schedule completely at Aviator. If it is repairable, it's down for the count for the foreseeable future.


This sounds weird... but I kind of feel like a friend got hurt, and I'm now in a different state and not able to make it out to see if they're OK or not. Yeah, I'm anthropomorphizing... but planes tend to lend themselves to that, and this little airplane represented more to me than most. So I'm not apologizing.

I hope you fly again, my friend.

Deja Vu Uv Ajed

Wow. I still can't believe I'm back here. Settling back into life in New Mexico has been all about coming to terms with the mix of the old with the new.

The apartment is new... and big... and very much to my liking. I'm really happy with how everything came together -- I spent the morning of the Fourth of July putting the larger items in their proper places, and throwing the rest of it into closets and the second bedroom/office. 

(Most of that has been sorted out today.) My old furniture looks better here, than it did cramped into my one-bedroom pad in Dallas.

The old is far more prevalent. Already, I've been to my old Wal-Mart... my old Albertson's grocery store... my old Starbucks. Tomorrow, I plan to get the Mazda washed at my old car wash, and meet some friends at my old Gardunos. All are places I used to visit regularly when I lived nearby, and in the North Valley. Driving through Corrales feels exactly the same as it used to, three years ago. So does driving down Montano.

There are even more buildings and businesses around here than when I lived at Cottonwood Ranch in 2000... and I thought there were a lot then. But it was very refreshing to drive down Coors Road at 8:45 am Monday morning -- still in the heart of rush hour in Dallas -- and marvel at the almost complete lack of traffic on the busy corridor. Albuquerque is a sleepy town, even in the mid-morning hours, compared to the metroplex.

I'll admit, there have been many things to make me feel right at "home" here, again. Watching the fireworks show at Balloon Fiesta Park from my balcony last night, with my friend Jen, was cool. Seeing a hummingbird use my feeder Wednesday morning -- it was one of the first things I set up after I moved, I really missed seeing hummingbirds in Dallas -- also gave me a heartened feeling. Ditto seeing a roadrunner scurry across the road as I drove to pick up my DVR player from Comcast on Monday.

Okay Albuquerque, you have one last chance. I've ran from you twice before -- the second time was much more well-reasoned than the first -- and I've come back to you every time... each time, somewhat against my will. But I swear, this time I'll try to appreciate you more than I have before.

I will admit, you've given me a good first week back.

****

The trip here wasn't as fraught with drama as it could have been, I guess. But it had it's share of angst, something that was almost totally lacking from my experience moving out to Dallas three years ago.

Loading up the truck couldn't have gone more smoothly. Lee showed up with the truck right on time; Shoe followed a short time after, followed by Quinn and then her hubby Monk. We had the truck completely loaded up in just over an hour, and managed to just avoid the rain. "OK, one-third of the move is complete," I told myself with relief Friday night, as I followed Lee in the truck back to his house, where I was staying overnight. The plan called for us to head westward first thing Saturday morning.

And then I noticed Lee had the hazards flashing on the truck... and that he was driving along a bit slower than normal. I called his cell number... and, essentially, told him "Don't f*** with me, stop acting like there's something wrong with the truck."

He wasn't acting. Somewhere along 121 towards McKinney, the truck dropped fourth gear. It wouldn't upshift, no matter what Lee tried, and as a result it couldn't go much over 50 mph.

So, instead of heading out Saturday morning, we slept in a bit and then tackled the problem of trying to convince a mechanic to come out and take a look at things. One agreed to, but he was out in Fort Worth and didn't think he could get out to McKinney -- on the opposite extreme side of DFW -- until mid-afternoon. Which left Lee and I to attempt to diagnose the problem.

Despite all the symptoms indicating the problem was a air leak coming from around the "boots" that connected the engine's turbocharger to its intake system, Lee remained convinced the problem was with the transmission. We had checked the fluid last night, and it had shown low. But there were no other signs of tranny trouble; the truck shifted normally until hitting the wall in 4th, and there was no smell of hot or burning tranny fluid.

Still, with a hard deadline of meeting the movers in ABQ (who had already graciously agreed to move off my unloading appointment, from Sunday morning to late afternoon) we weren't going to leave any stones unturned. So off we went to the auto parts store, to find transmission fluid.
Which worked. After an hour of testing the truck by driving around McKinney, Lee pronounced it fit for the open road.

After debating whether to head out right then and there -- by now, it was pushing 4 pm -- or waiting until Sunday morning, we opted for the latter. That gave all of us -- me, Lee, Diana, and the kids -- one more night together in Dallas. Diana made a great dinner, we all played "Guitar Hero" on Playstation II (I now have a newfound respect for guitar players) and I screened the awesome skating video Monk and I had spent the past 17 months recording (seriously... the vid kicks so much ass, it could have its own summer blockbuster.) All in all, it was a really nice, last night in Texas, with my "second family."

The next morning at 5 am, we were on the road. Lee's stepdaughter Aarynd rode with him in the truck, and the other three kids piled in the Mazda with me (they were on their way back to ABQ to spend some time with their dad.) Despite driving more or less straight through from Dallas to Amarillo, we did not meet up with Lee until west of AMA.

Though we were delayed 45 minutes due to a traffic jam on I-40 -- caused by a semi that caught fire and essentially melted east of Tucumcari -- we were still making pretty good time. But it was going to be tight... I had told the movers to meet us at the apartment at 5:30. It was 2 pm by the time we were free of the traffic.

Somehow -- and I'm still not sure how this happened -- everyone met up in schedule. After transferring the youngest to my car in Moriarty, I dropped the kids off at their dad's in southeast Albuquerque, as Lee headed to the apartment. He beat me to the apartment by three minutes, and the movers arrived within five minutes of that. My friend Jim met us as the movers were unloading their equipment... and 90 minutes later, everything was unloaded, hauled up the stairs, and placed wherever it would fit in my apartment.

Hard to believe that was only five days ago.