More Kelly Sutton

Sort of breaking into the middle of something here, but I wanted to get this up before I let it slip aside. I'll fill everyone in on what has me all uncomfortable NEXT post ...

Showing what a little perserverance can accomplish, I finally found more recent information about Kelly Sutton. Very recent. Like from yesterday. Link here.

Apparently the search for a major sponsor did not go as well as one would like, and Kelly will indeed be racing a reduced schedule in 2008. The creator of the post with this information promised a schedule soon. Kelly's deal with Teva Pharmaceuticals in 2007 included 4 2008 races as well, so we'll probably only be seeing her in 4 races this season.

Also, a movie about Kelly is in production.

One Thrilling Left Turn After Another

I started this post last week but just finished it now. Originally it was largely a Daytona 500 pre-race post. I didn't finish because I got into actually watching the race. Sort of made it so many of my initial thoughts were no longer relevant. Hard to preview something when it is already happening.

I was looking forward to the race, though. I even rearranged my weekend so I could watch it. I didn't watch all of it, though. About the first fourth and the end. The rest of the race I wasn't watching, having wandered away from my TV to do other stuff.

I rarely watch an entire race. Often I fall asleep, falling victim to the hypnotic effect of cars going around and around but getting nowhere fast. Other times the driver I follow is having trouble.

Last week I wandered off after Jeff Burton missed his pit and lost a lot of time making the stop. Ever since I started watching NASCAR (I picked up on a coworkers enthusiasm, I guess, and started following it) I seem to have a jinx-like effect on Burton. When I don't watch he does much better than when I do. I understand the differance between correlation and causality - I'm not naive - but the apparent effect is just kind of freaky.

Daytona this year lends support to a jinx that I know intellectually isn't real. I stopped watching after Burton's pit trouble. But I turned the TV back on to see if I could catch the end of the race. And I did. 2 or 3 laps to go. Burton was leading. Remember, I hadn't been watching. But now I was again, so ...

12 cars passed Burton in those last laps. Burton finished 13th. He was leading, but then I started watching again

Jinx.

Oh well. Yesterday (Saturday), I caught a race in the truck series. Kind of rare for those races to be on broadcast TV. I am not as familiar with the drivers on that circuit, so I don't pay much attention. With no one to support over any one else a lot of the interest just isn't there.

Although I do support one driver in the truck series. I'm not sure what she (yes, she) is even doing this year. I understand she was having difficulty pulling together sponsors, so maybe that didn't go well.

Her (I should actually use her name - Kelly Sutton) primary sponsor has been Teva Neuroscience. Teva manufactures Copaxone, the disease-modifying drug I inject daily. In fact the truck Kelly drove was emblazoned with the Copaxone name.

That connection isn't what grabbed me, though. Yeah, it's neat that she is a driver at one of NASCAR's highest levels and a woman, but that ain't it either.

To get at the real reason I find Sutton so intriguing we have to look at her past sponsorships. Teva didn't just sponsor her because they thought she was a decent driver. They probably thought she would also make a good spokeswoman. See, Kelly Sutton actually uses Copaxone.

"But Dave", you may be thinking, "isn't Copaxone prescribed to folks with MS?"

Yep.

Perspectives

On Tuesday while I was waiting after work for my bus to arrive a guy came up to me and struck up a conversation. I wouldn't wish multiple sclerosis on my worst enemy, but I kind of hope this guy has it.

No, I'm not being nasty. Read on.

He started talking to me because he saw that I was using a walker and, since some day he may be doing the same, he had some questions about how it was working out. He has been experiencing fairly rapid deteriation in the muscles that are used in walking - thus the curiousity about the walker. His doctors have presented rapid-onset MS as a possible explanation.

But this is just a better-case scenario. Of course his symptoms may just be transient. A temporary glitch in our imperfect universe. That is the best-case scenario. So, if we perchance don't have that best case, what other possibilities are there?

One possibility, as I've mentioned, is MS. Another possibility put forward by his doctors is ALS, commonly known as Lou Gehrig's Disease. Most folks today are probably more familiar with Stephen Hawking as someone with ALS.

From my perspective as someone with MS it seems vastly preferable to ALS. Both can be debilitating to be sure. There is one big difference though - folks can have MS for years The average life expectancy of someone with ALS is 3-5 years after onset of the disease. Of course this is just expectancy. Individual results may vary.

Even still, seems like a pretty major 'Sword of Damocles'-type thing.

Yes, MS sucks. I wouldn't, as I said, wish it on my worst enemy. I can't imagine a perspective where it is not a better possibility than ALS.

At least I don't feel like I have an expiration date.

I Said It

Yep, I said it.

You may have missed it. One of the advantages or disadvantages (let's just say things) to having some background in literary analysis is that you notice stuff like this. Even in your own writing.

Said what? you may ask. A few posts ago I said:

insert your favorite stereotype of how disabled folks are supposed to act here

First time on this blog I self-identified as 'disabled'.

Generally, I don't do that. It has nothing to do with denial of anything. If you read my blog with any regularity I've said enough about some of my troubles that you'd probably agree with the identification. If you are one of the lucky folks who gets to actually see me often even more so. And I'm around myself 24-7.

But still I don't self-identify very often as 'disabled'. Really it has to do with how I look at these things. Or how others do.

'Disabled' is often used in a way that implies that it is the central element of one's existance. I see it more as a 'by-the-way' sort of thing. I am a huge comics (and pop culture in general) fan, possibly an even bigger music fan, a long-time vegetarian, social activist, unapologetic left winger, cook, computing enthusiast, have a couple degrees ...

And, by the way, I have a chronic disease and resultant fairly severe mobility issues.

But if I say 'disabled' folks tend to forget all but that last point.

So I don't say it much. Or feel it much. That is in and of itself subversive. Hard to forget I kinda like music when I spend 1/3 of the blog talking about it.

So am I disabled? The State of Minnesota says so. My doctor agrees. Me? See above.

So, that was a little dark, huh? But not so dark as to justify my warning on the end of my previous post. Just another case of my overselling something.

That is assuming I'm done.

Not.
Even.
Started.
Bud.

Decisions

I have a decision to make.

See, usually when I look in the local free weekly newspaper I see one or two bands I'd like to go see. I was reading a copy while waiting at the bus station for my ride home. This time I saw 7 shows. Seven! Namely:

The Donnas
Suzanne Vega
The Bangles
They Might Be Giants
Arch Enemy
2007 Minneapolis Metal Massacre
Bad Religion

So now I have a decision. Just how badly do I want to see these shows? For Bad Religion and Arch Enemy - pretty badly. The problem I have is this: the venues these shows take place at are probably not laid out with accessability for folks like me in mind. I haven't been to First Avenue in years (where most these shows take place), but I don't remember anything particularly positive from the standpoint of getting around ...

So I have a decision to make. Do I dig real deep, try real hard, insert your favorite stereotype of how disabled folks are supposed to act here, and go to these shows? Or just say to heck with it and save myself the aggravation?

I'm leaning towards the latter.

Am I the only one who sees the first often used as a subtle putdown? I'm all for trying and everything, but I can't stand the "you did not entirely succeed, so you must not have tried hard enough" attitude.

There are days when my brain tells my legs to move but it just ain't happenin'. Not because I'm not trying or not thinking in a positive way.

But because my immune system is eating at my nervous system.

Sorry if sometimes that ticks me off.

The Letter

I'm posting this from work. Which is probably wrong, but oh well. I picked up my mail before work. I got this bizarre card in it.

Yes, card not letter. But I have this little game where I title posts after songs. I don't know of a song called "The Card" ("Postcard", yes. But not just "card". Synchronicity here: that is a Boris Grebeshnikov song ... I mentioned him a few posts ago ...) Thus "The Letter".

The card was from the manufacturer of the drug I inject daily to control my MS symptoms. It congratulated me on one year of taking the drug.

Weird, huh?

There was a stormy day in March

I think I mentioned it before. Snow heavy ... HUNDREDS of accidents across the Twin Cities metro. I had one.

But my case was a little different in the eyes of the law from the other hundreds.. See, I have multiple sclerosis. And being shook up after the accident (as anyone would be) my MS symptoms were positivly raging. So the state canceled my drivers license.

Ah, but all I had to do to get reinstated was a simple exam. I had that exam yesterday.

Got nervous (lots of anxiety!) My leg pooped out on me and I failed.

So, I feel like I've just taken a stiff chairshot in a shootfight.

I don't even really have a chance here to catch my breath and process this. I am having a REALLY hard time, folks. But still I have crap that has to get done ...

Helluva 100th post, huh? I'd like to have posted something celebratory, or at least one of my stupid lists ... But life got in the way.

See, there was this stormy day in March ...

No cow

At the supermarket the other day I stumbled across the vitamins aisle. I'm in the market for two specific supplements, so I thought I'd at least have a look.

The first is vitamin D. It has long been believed D supplements can be beneficial for folks with MS, and the formal scientific evidence for this is mounting. I'm not looking to megadose or anything, but figure regularly suplementing my D intake would probably be a good thing.

The second thing I was looking for was flaxseed oil. I've used flaxseed in cooking before (it makes a good binding agent in baked goods), but never taken it as a supplement. The reason I would do this is because it is a very good non-animal based source of omega-3 fatty acids, another nutrient of probable benefit to MS patients. As I usually do when buying anything with ingredient lists on the bottle I turned the bottle around to read the list. This is important to do, given the pencant shown by producers for slipping animal-based ingredients in places you wouldn't necessarily expect them.

The big thing I look out for in medicine and the like is gelatin. Those gel-caps may be easy to swallow, but are often made of a substance I avoid. The ingredient list clarified what the gel-caps were made of in the product I was looking at. Sort of.

"non-bovine". OK, thanks. But that raises more questions than it answers. How about porcine? If the gel-caps are non-animal product in origin, why specify cow? Is there a big Hindu market for flaxseed supplements I don't know about? Wouldn't most folks interested in non-bovine material also want to know if pig skin is involved?

I was too confused by all this to buy anything. I'm all for full disclosure and 'say what you mean' and all, but can't figure out just what they are trying to say (beyond the obvious literal 'no cow')

Dave and the Purple Finch OR Want some cheese with that?

Yesterday there were two birds raising a ruckus in the lot where I parked at work.

Well, it is the season when birds tend to get noisy (breeding season, ya know). No big surprise there. I didn't recognize the vocalizations, so decided I needed a visual ID.

I had trouble seeing the fine detail I would need to make a positive ID. I don't know if my trouble was related to having MS (visual problems are fairly common with the disease), but certainly felt like it was. The natural tenency is to blame MS for anything not quite right.

I'm pretty certain I was looking at a pair of Purple Finches. But not being able to make a positive ID was very frustrating.

Folks tend to underestimate the effect of little annoyances like that. The big things (like having to use a walker) are, well, BIG. Easier just to accept them. The little things, though, seem like they'd be easier to have more control over. Because they seem like they should be easy, it is stressful when they aren't. For example, the most difficult thing I do on a daily basis is put on/take off my socks. Sometimes I get so frustrated I have to just sit for a while and calm down.

By now you're probably wondering what that is about cheese up in the title. It is part of a joke. "Would you like some cheese with that whine?" Yeah, I'm whineing. Oh poor me and stuff. I'm a regular country song. Now if only I had a dog, and my dog stole my car ...

But better to whine a little about stuff that really doesn't matter than waste energy fretting over the big stuff.

If you struggle, you will get baked goods

The grocery store I usually shop at has a very not flat parking lot. There are loads of little hills and valleys that you don't really notice.

Unless, that is, you have questionable walking skills to begin with.

The exit of the store is particularly challenging. Between the door and the actual lot the ground is at a fairly steep angle - at least a 5 or 10 % grade. Trying to control a shopping cart going down that is always an adventure. Most trips I don't even bother and don't purchase more than I can carry without a cart. Forget about a 6 pack of pop or something equally akward.

The other day I must have really wanted that 6 pack, because I gave using a cart a go. Of course this lead to a struggle to keep said cart under control while trying to get my groceries to my car. A couple saw me struggling and offered to help.

I'm not very good at accepting charity (it makes me very uncomfortable to do so), but from a practical standpoint I could use a little assistance, so I said sure. The woman in the couple pushed the cart for me. "I'm putting a little something extra in your groceries." she said. I said she didn't have to feel obligated, but she insisted, so "Thanks" I said. I figured she was leaving me a loaf of bread or something.

And she did. As a start.

When I unpacked my groceries, I found I had been given that loaf of bread ... and a bag of minicroissants, a bag of dinner rolls, a dozen donuts, and two 3-packs of muffins.

Yikes. That's a lot of food.

The thing I like about this story (other than the muffins .... mmmmm ... muffins) is that I'm not sure why 'guy having trouble walking' adds up to 'give guy donuts', but it made her feel good to do so, and she did so in a way that left my dignity intact. Win-win situation.

I like when those happen.

COUNTDOWN

You Lose in six days.

Passions (4: Comics)

A day early, but oh well.

A bit abbreviated, but even just this was difficult to write. Lots of unresolved issues. Still feels a bit raw.

Up until recently Wednesday was just about my favorite day. You see, Wednesday is new comic day.

I can't remember the first comic I ever read. I remember issues of Amazing Spider-man, Captain America, and Batman, though. The specific issues were not that memorable, but I must have liked them because I read comics on and off after that.

Until 92.. Then my comic interest switched on in a big way. And by big, I mean BIG. I picked up Sandman Mystery Theatre #1 and was hooked. My collection now runs at 7000+ issues. They range in date from the 30s to a few months ago. So what happened?

Well, first it's a pain to get to the store. Sure, there are plenty of mail order places, but that misses out on some of the social aspects of the weekly journey. Second, I feel guilty buying comics. I've had it pounded into my head that I shouldn't be doing something just for fun (after all, I have a disease) to such an extent that I feel bad, whether I want to (or even think I should) or not.

People doing the pounding have ignored what comics mean to me. I love reading them, reading about them, putting together sequential runs of them (if I have 1-4 of something, I have to make an effort not to buy 5, even if 1-4 weren't so great). I've gone through some bad times where I HAD to keep going, because how else will I find out what is in the next issue?

I guess some don't see that. Apparently they can't distinguish between a little hobby to fill up the hours and a passion.

Nightmares

I had a pattern going with posts to this blog, but this post blows that. I can do that. I'm trained. Kids, don't try this at home.

I don't really have nightmares. Sure, I have the occasional bad dream, but usually it is forgotten shortly after waking. No, I don't really have nightmares. Instead I get to live them.

Everyone knows what nightmares are. Usually they involve worms, the devil, black horses, that kind of thing. Bah. Kids stuff. Want real nightmares?

A nightmare is putting on socks in the morning.

A nightmare is trying to get the cap back on the toothpaste.

A nightmare is a walk in the woods that is just impossible.

A nightmare is something used as a threat for years actually happening.

A nightmmare is your back going out because apparently you didn't have enough troubles.

This is the place in the post where I make some declaration or say something inspirational.

Sorry, I'm just not feeling very damn inspirational today.

68 Guns/Letters

Originally this entry was going to be about a woman I met a few years back at a conference in New Jersey. Her name was Elisa, and we hit it off well enough to exchange addresses. A few weeks after we met she sent me a letter. The dark part: I never wrote back. Really more dork of me than dark, but I thought posting about it made a nice symmetry with Beginning of the End. Things like that amuse me. But today I got a letter much more keeping with the 'dark' theme of the last few entries.

A little background: about 1 1/2 weeks ago I plowed into another car. I've driven in Minnesota for 20 years, never had that happen before. The day it happened was a major snowstorm and this area saw literally hundreds of accidents. No one was hurt, but I was pretty shook up by it. When I get really emotionally upset my MS symptoms kick into overdrive, so when the cops came to fill out the accident report I was having real mobility problems. Today I get a letter from the DMV that I need to provide something from my doctor stating I can safely operate a motor vehicle.

This may be just a formality and nothing to fret about. One thing MS does to a person mentally is erode ones sense of certainty. So I fret anyway. I just don't know how this will all play out. That is frightening.

So these two items cover partof the title, but you're probably wondering about the "68 Guns" bit. It's a song by The Alarm. The first line keeps going through my head: "And now they're trying to take my life away ..."

I'm probably just overreacting, but that is really how this feels. So many people think MS means STOP or CAN'T. It doesn't. It means CHANGE and ADAPT.

"And now they're trying to take my life away"

Know what? It's not much, but you CAN'T HAVE IT

Passions (3: Cooking)

I first became intersted in cooking in the late 80s.

At first it was out of a feeling that some day I would need those skills if I wanted to eat anything interesting. I was living on campus, so didn't need to cook right then. I did some, but I wasn't passionate about it really. Not yet.

In 1992 I moved into my own apartment and that changed. Being partial to eating (not in the gourmet sense, more in avoid starvation mode) I began cooking for myself. Being financially challanged helped out as well. I didn't rely on convenience foods and restaraunts because at that time it just wasn't possible. Developing the skill and creativity to whip up a spaghetti dinner for under a buck was a very real alternative to bending over backwards to have it prepared for me.

I had been raised in an environment where food preparation was an expression of affection. I never really had to explore that, though, previously. As I began having to cook I discovered I liked it. A lot.

It also 'put me in touch with my roots' in a way. In addition to the role food played in my family dynamics, I descend from long lines of farmers. I am proud of that fact.

My ancestors would probably shake their heads at my food choices. The idea of living close to the land (favoring minimally intensivly grown local produce) they'd probably understand, but I'd imagine my love of Asian and African cuisines would strike them a bit odd. That and my vegetarianism, but now is not the place to talk about that.

This is the place to discuss what I eat daily now. Unfortunately, I rely fairly heavily on microwavable prepared meals right now. Why am I, an admitted foodie, eating out of my microwave? Two reasons, common cause.

1) Cooking can be pretty time consuming. I find myself needing a lot of downtime, and there often just aren't enough hours in the day to do more than pop something in the nuker.

2) The act of cooking can be physically challenging in itself. Take spaghetti for instance. Getting a pot full of boiling water off the stove and over to the sink for the pasta to drain is difficult, given the problems I have with lifting and balance.

But I still try a little at least. And I still enjoy browsing cookbooks.

Necessity isn't just the mother of invention. It can also be the mother of passion.

And when you have passion, well ... you do what you can. And sometimes, what you can't.

Passions 2 (Music)

Like many folks, my first experience of music was in the family car. We'd go on 4 hourtrips to visit my grandparents, with an 8 track to pass the time. Lots of early 60s stuff, some 50s, some country. What I heard on those trips - girl group, hot rod, Beach Boys - set the basis for what was to come. Nothing too deep juat yet. Mostly 'greatest hits'. Depth was to come.

When I was 9 or 10 I was encouraged to pick up a 45 RPM single. I think the intent was to move me towards something my peers could relate with. It must have been disappointing when I picked out "Beach Boys Medley". Not really moving in the intended direction.

But once I started buying music for myself ... I consider "Beach Boys Medley" more of a blip than anything (didn't really appreciate them until later.) I *really* started by buying 4 45s - "I Love Rock n Roll", "Centerfold", "Only The Lonely", and one other which I forget. 2 classics out of 4. I had good taste even as a kid.

Of course these 4 don't stand in isolation. I was also listening to the radio, and was the only non-stoner Floyd fan I knew. I dabbled in albums, but mainly stuck with the top 40 for a while. Until 1982. I discovered Prince.

This was a little before EVERYONE discovered Prince. I was one of the few in my town eagerly awaiting Purple Rain. 1999 had just blown me away. Good taste again.

What Prince did for me (in terms of what I looked for) was introduce me to the quest. Some of his best material came out only on B sides. And while I was looking, there were extended remixes to be had! Digging up the rare or obscure is almost as fun as actually owning a copy.

But, all was not sunshine and lollipops. In the mid-80s the top 40 was dominated by material that just didn't move me. I paid attention to what was out there, but hair-metal hell gave me a chance to reaquaint with the 50s/60s sounds I had first been listening to in the car But now I had been introduced to the quest, so dug just that much deeper.

Enter hardcore. Like the punk of the 70s, hardcore provided relief from a stale new music scene. Begining in the mid-80s, I listened to more and more loud, fast music until it pretty much dominated my personal playlist. Of all the flavors of rock, that is the one that speaks to me the most.

Today I listen to a wide variety of pop, rock and R&B. I still keep 'my ear to the wheel' so to speak, but most of what I listen to was recorded 20+ years ago or sounds like it could have been. Part of this is just normal nostalgia (although I seem to be nostalgic for some things before my time!), part it feels good to be reminded of a time 'before'. Before what? Nothing specific really. Before MS, I guess. In part. Back when I could dance like I wanted.

Fear of driving

It was just an extreme dislike of driving. But now, thanks to the stupid snow we got in Minnesota (and the consequences) it is full-fledged fear.

So why is the title a takeoff on an early 70s sexual revolution classic? Dunno. Guess it is like the Lois Lane story "Black: I Am Curious". Just like the sound of it. And I am foreshadowing a future post. Nothing more.

I won't actually discuss fear of driving any further. It is just too prominant in my mind right now. This kind of blows this entire post, but oh well.

Short version: fear is a very real emotion for me. Jumping at my own shadow is something I experience a lot.

Oh well. Rise above.I know.

Of course, my already jittery nature is only exacerbated by MS. Think it sounds frightening to wake up and not know if you'll be able to walk to the bathroom to prepare for the day ahead? Try doing it every single day.

Told you it was gonna get dark in here...

Ice capades

If there was any doubt, know ye this: winter can stink when you have mobility issues.

The other day was warm (upper 30s, almost 15 degrees above average!). The day before it had snowed, pretty much encasing my car in the white stuff. While I was at work that snow melted, and it refroze before it was time to go home. So I get out to my car after work and it is surrounded by a circle of ice. Had I been looking to skate or something it would have been beautiful ice - glossy, flat. But I didn't want to skate - I wanted to get in my car. Wound up skating after a fashion anyway.

I started off OK. Got my walker mostly in the back seat. Then it happened. I began what was quite possibly the longest slip-on-the-ice I've ever experienced. Had total control the entire time, except for remaining vertcal. Wound up sitting on the ground by my car. No injuries - like I said, total control. But now I was BESIDE my car when I really wanted to be INSIDE it. 20-30 minutes of struggle followed, where I learned just how slick that ice was.

I did manage to get in my car, though, and was able to return home. I THOUGHT I'd escaped without injury, but apparently I used muscles I don't ordinarily use while crawling/sliding, because today my left leg just doesn't want me to put weight on it. Or maybe it has nothing to do with playing figure skater. I called in to work so I can rest it. It stinks - ready and willing to go to work this morning, just a little matter of not being able to get around! If I could just teleport in ala-Bewitched I would, 'cause this is D-U-L-L.

At least if I were more traditionally sick, I'd feel better about missing a day of work.

Dave fall down go boom

Actually Dave fall down go [profanity muttered under breath], [more profanity], thunk, ouch, [yet more muttered profanity].

It has been a few months since I've fallen without an obvious reason like slipping or something. It is pretty scary looking when I do, but like Chevy Chase doing his Ford impression (hey, timely referance!) I know how to fall, so usually don't get hurt. Thus the having time to curse about it. There is a time where I know I'm gonna fall but haven't actually yet. I usually fill this time with profanity.

I say usually don't get hurt. Sprained my arm (landed on it funny), which isn't life threatening but dang annoying. Already (just 2 days) it is to the point of just being sore.

On the blog front here, I am now counting hits with Google Analytics. Interesting, although I don't really understand the numbers yet. Plus, with only a few days data, I'm not really looking at a good sample anyway.

I should say: to my German reader Wie gehts?, to Swedish readers whatever 'Hey howsitgoin' is in Swedish, Brits and Yanks hey howsitgoin. Special greets to the few using Linux. Total World Domination is within our reach.

Questions

Still moving in. I'm happier with the font used in the text and have added some links, so things are moving along. The links should really be in reverse order though. Ah well. Visit 'em in REVERSE order for an experience more akin to my surfing habits.

So, questions. I never really addressed WHY blogging. Simple, I'm conserving my energy. Recently I've been essaying, which is A LOT of work. Blogging lets me ramble on and rant 'n' rave, without imposing the structural constraints of a more formal essay.

Can you tell I have a background in English (among other things)? Phrases like 'structural constraints' tend to give it away.

But anyway, questions. I had the day off so did a little shopping. Picked up some DVD+Rs for a project I have going (making DVDs of some avis I have. Of a cooking show. This falls under 'because I can, I do.')

As I'm walking through the parking lot a little kid asks his Mom 'why does that man ...' and then I couldn't hear. The upshoot though, is that he wondered why I was using a walker (should have mentioned that I use a walker ... kind of important to the story). His Mom of course hushes him ... my experience has been, though, that children are curious but ultimately more accepting of obvious disability than adults.

Back when I worked in retail we had a 'game night' at the store every Monday. I'd be one of the staff who actually played/taught. The first time I used a cane on game night, one of the regulars had questions.

'What is that for?'

'It helps when I sometimes don't walk so well.'

'OK.'

'Nuff said. I was still the guy who played Yu-Gi-Oh. The curiousity was normal. After that, though, business as usual. That is refreshing. Kids don't know yet how they are 'supposed' to act around disability.

See, that is the upside of blogging. In an essay, I'd need to end with a summary or something. But here, a little more interactive.

Write yer own.