A Special Kind of A**hole, Part 2

Ok, I’m back. If you’ve been reading me the past couple of months, you’ve no doubt noticed that I tried to embrace a different part of my persona- the darker, rage and anger filled part. While I have, no doubt been filled with rage and anger during portions of my cancer experience, as a whole, it’s just not me. I thought that exploring that portion of my persona would provide a new and entertaining perspective to write from while allowing me to blow off some steam. Reality ended up being quite the opposite- I never got comfy writing with that voice, the topics veered into places that I didn’t want to go, and some people got the wrong impression about where I was coming from. In fact, it was brought to my attention that at least one member of my Board at the Design Studio thought that I was saving up to write a vitriolic, vengeful post about how I’ve been treated there. I was taken aback that anyone would think I would go that route- maybe they have something on their conscience, who knows. For the record, however, I’ve never planned on doing anything like that. In almost six years of writing, I’ve never used this space to go after anyone personally, I don’t plan on doing it now. That said, when my time at the Studio is over, will I write about my experiences there? Maybe, who knows, but only if there’s an entertaining story to tell. All of which is to say that I’m officially ending my experiment with trying to delve into my darker side and write from a perspective that I don’t really live. Moving swiftly on…

Haas Haus

To pick up where we left off after the Battle of Brum, we had a lovely dinner with both sets of Joneses and Monsieur Mills before heading off to bed. We woke up early the next morning for a flight to Austria via Amsterdam. We arrived early afternoon in enough time to stroll around the city center. Unbeknownst to me, our hotel, Do & Co., was located inside one of my favorite contemporary buildings- Hans Hollein’s Haas Haus. I’ve actually used that building in this blog as an example of something or other (probably the obvious geode metaphor). It was a nice treat- as was the hotel. (Design Hotels always do a nice job). After strolling for a bit, we stopped by a traditional Austrian pub for an early dinner. I went with sausages for a starter and Weinerschnitzel for my main- The boy had sausages to start, and sausages for his main (hard to argue). It was then back to the hotel to get all gussied up for the evening’s main event- Don Pasquale at the Vienna State Opera. 

The entire opera experience was just fantastic. The architecture was lovely, and while not as old as I expected, provided a great atmosphere from arrival to seat. The boy fawned over the busts of the greats within- Mozart, Hayden, Schubert, Strauss, and others. To top it off, yours truly came through with the private box in the Loge level- we did it in style. The show was great despite the fact that neither of us understood a word. Afterwards, we walked over to Hotel Sacher for a bit of a tea and their eponymous torte, which is as famous as the hotel. All in all, we felt pretty civilized for a couple of deplorables* from the South. 

The next day was our last in Vienna, it was an all-out scramble to see as much as we could in that short time. We spent part of the day in our shoevrolets, and the afternoon with the on-off bus tour. We managed to see an awful lot, but probably could’ve used another day or two to dig deeper. All in all I really enjoyed Vienna, I don’t know that I’ll ever make it back there, but it was definitely worth the trip this time. 

Progenitor of Modernism: the Secession Building

The following day we once again put our lives and our sanity in Delta’s hands- and once again, it was a hellish day of travel. I’ll spare the details of the AMS Delta employees who screwed us over, of an itinerary where every leg was delayed, and of the Detroit TSA personnel who uncaringly savaged a carefully wrapped gift for my wife because they didn’t understand what a cake was- but it was a laughably horrible experience. That day I vowed never to return to Europe and never to fly Delta. (I broke one of those vows today and will break the other next week.) But seriously, screw them all…just writing about it makes me furious…sorry.

Progenitor of Modernism: Austrian Postal Savings Bank

This was a trip of highs and lows for the boy and me. Fortunately, we’ve already forgotten (most of) the lows, and the highs are still fresh in our memories. I’ll try to be more consistent about writing in the coming months, and hopefully I’ll have something about more travel next week. So, until that adventure, Ciao! (how’s that for a hint?) 

Health update: It appears that while I was traipsing around Vienna, my hemoglobin had dropped to 6.7! No wonder I was so fatigued. From the day I got back and started with a blood infusion for the anemia, I have constantly been in ether the doctor’s office or in a hospital bed. I’ve had half a dozen scans in this short time. The highlights of my maladies include: an abscess that developed between my liver and chest wall that then grew up between my ribs (second worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life) that worked its way to the skin and eventually erupted in a spectacular explosion of foul-smelling pus and blood all over my surgeon’s waiting room; two abscessograms; and one procedure for a wholesale exchange of all of my liver drains. All of that said, during that time I managed to stay on top of work, cook Thanksgiving dinner, take the family to Disney WWOS for a soccer tournament, catch all of my son’s basketball games, watch the Iron Bowl and SEC Championship games, and help throw my other son a kick-ass birthday party. I guess you could say I’m doing all right.

A Special Kind of A**hole

Well my friends, you will have a front row seat for a spectacular meltdown- I’m not going to continue to play all of this fucking bullshit. I hope nobody else gets caught up in the wake of this shit show, but I’m getting tired of “living” like this.

I’m back for another week friends, still on the top side of the dirt. Unfortunately, I’m still struggling- can’t win for losing. Every time it starts to look like life may just pull itself together, I catch some kind of bullshit non-sense- either from another person, or as some special bullshit from life itself. Unfortunately, I can’t really speak the truth in those terms this week, because it takes a special kind of asshole to moan about how shitty life is when he has just returned from what would be for the vast majority of human beings the trip of a lifetime. I suppose the play will be to hold off on the bitching this week as much as possible, and tell the story of the trip. I must add, however, that there was significant bullshit going on during the trip. The magnitude of the bullshit is such that at one point during the return leg of the journey I swore to never return to Europe…I may still mean it. In fact, these are the words I banged out into “Notes” on my mobile during the height of my anger:

“Fuck Europe*. I'm never going back. Also, fuck: KLM, Delta, the assholes who work at AMS and VIE, the innumerable beggars of Vienna, the pendejos at Jamonarium, the Co-Op, located in a small town in England, the Sky Lounge at VIE, and the Delta paperwork personnel at AMS, (the list goes on but I’ll stop there). I've seen all I need to see of you in the last two decades- now fuck off.”

As I mentioned, however, I’m going to try to be nice this week. Let’s see how well I do. 

The trip started with our departure flight being delayed several times- and with every conceivable other flight from CHA booked, we faced the very real possibility of losing days of our vacation. No one at Delta or CHA seemed to give a shit- not the gate agents, and not the platinum customer service rep. She offered us a bunch of sky miles to get me off the phone, but never actually followed through. After hours of trying to work with someone, anyone, we were offered a VAN RIDE to ATL (during rush hour, with the certainty of a trip through their famous security lines, and uncertainty of even making our connection). Unfortunately, we had no choice but to find any way to get out of CHA. When we finally arrived, the check-in lady in the Sky Priority line couldn’t print our boarding passes. After 10 minutes of trying, she told us the bald-faced lie that she was needed somewhere else in the airport, and that we needed to get back in the general boarding line to see another agent to have our passes printed. We watched as she then proceeded to help numerous other customers  for the next 20 minutes as we stood in the fucking line waiting for…wait, wait, wait… this is bitching and complaining. Promised I wouldn’t do that. Let’s try again.

Driving the friendly skies.

We left CHA on Wednesday and arrived in Birmingham, England on Thursday. My brother Jem met us, and we were off for the day. The day was pretty chill- just I what I needed. After setting up shop in the lovely village of Henley-in-Arden, we rendezvoused with Sarah and Ms. Sophie and went for a stroll around Stratford. We showed big boy all the Shakespearean sights and stopped for traditional pasties- solid workingman’s food- again, just what I needed. Afterward, the boys trotted off to the BCFC club store to buy all of the Blues gear we could fit in the suitcase. That evening the whole crew joined the incomparable Alan and Anne Jones for a curry. I love those two very deeply, and seeing them was good for both heart and soul.

Friday was quintessential England. We took the kids to Warwick Castle- a big-ass proper castle that was built by William the Conqueror. I love castles, and while this one is privately run by something akin to an amusement park operator, there is enough uncommercialized and untouched history in the grounds that it makes up for it. In fact, having it run by private sector interests has increased the amount of money spent on maintenance, upkeep, and preservation as compared with a typical, state-run castle. It just so happens that the castle also has an operable trebuchet that launches flaming projectiles every few hours- that’s good stuff. After some chemo-related vomiting in the woods outside the castle, the long day of sightseeing came to a fitting end with an outstanding plate of beige (fish and chips) for dinner- I opted for the haddock, whilst the boy (who often lacks common sense), went with the prawns. It was then back to the hotel where we both fell asleep just before the ending of Die Hard. A good day indeed.

That's a proper castle

Have fun storming the castle boys.

The next day was another type of quintessential England. After sleeping in and having a full English, we cruised over to the Joneses around lunchtime. From there, it was off to the football. We went down the Hawthornes to support the Baggies (West Bromwich Albion- my second team) against Manchester City (perhaps the best team in the world). The first game of football I ever saw was at the Hawthornes- Baggies against Norwich City in what is now called the Championship (the division just below the top league which is the Premier League). In any event, Alan Jones and Albion’s club Secretary Dr. John Evans treated me like a king and I’ll never forget that. So I have a spot in my heart for the Baggies. Unfortunately for them, it was a case men against boys in the game against Man City. Aguero scored first (winning me a tidy sum from the book), and it ended 4-nil (Aguero 2, Gündoğan 2). In reality, City could have put up any number they wanted. 

Big Boy on the way to the Hawthornes

Not a shabby grounds.

Oi, the Premiership and their pomp. Just get the boys
on the field and give them a ball already. 

You're not supposed to smile that big when down 4-nil.

That’s got us about halfway through the trip- I’ll fill you in on the remainder next week. As for a medical update, I’ve decided to suspend that practice as long as there are folks who would use that information against me. I’m sorry that the very few have to spoil it for everyone, but that’s what the world has come to. I’ll be back next week, in the meantime ya’ll be good. All my love- C.Rushing

Hmm…what I have been listening to lately? Nothing consistent really, so why don’t we don’t we foreshadow next week? 

*Please note that by their own vote, the UK is no longer part of Europe. 

A Giant Sucking Sound

Apologies for all of the cussing this week, but I’m sure the Good Lord will forgive me, and the media is saying that it means you’re more intelligent. If so, let’s get this shit started. 

The weekend, ah the weekend. From a general sense it was just fine, I got to spend it with the family, that’s all I ask of a weekend, really. Big boy’s team won their tournament, and the little one didn’t seem too bothered that his team lost their friendly. In the end, ‘Bama overcame itself and won against a top ten team. So it’s tough to say I had a tough weekend. 

That said, a lot of things sucked. A lot of people sucked, and life in many ways conspired to make things suck. I have therefore, in line with my new approach to life, decided to starting calling out things that suck, describing why they suck, and outlining any steps I may take to counter these sucks in the future. Warning, no one is safe, and there is no sacred cow. 

Things that Suck: October 22-28

-Murfreesboro, Tennessee. What a horrible place. We played our tourney there and had to spend the night. The place is nothing more than a series of strip malls tied together by crazy TDOT projects with some half-finished sub-divisions scattered around for good measure. ACTION: None, other than to try to avoid the place at all costs. 

-The parents of the TN SC 05 Showcase youth soccer team. Horrible soccer parents- bad hombres and nasty women to be certain. Please learn how to conduct yourselves in public with some level of decency. Also, please learn the rules before you jump on the referees. ACTION: None, other than to hope we don’t play them in another tourney this year.

-The O’Charley’s in Franklin, TN. Despite having the lowest expectation of anything on this list, the place still managed to leave a (literal) bad taste in our mouth. As the youngin’ and I were driving up to reunite the family in M’boro after his friendly, we thought it would be a good idea to stop at a casual dining bar and watch a few minutes of the ‘Bama game- it wasn’t. It’s sad and depressing, but this how America feeds itself. ACTION: Long-term boycott of said establishment. 

-Richard Siegel Field (or whomever runs the programs there). Even though the boys won it, this was a poorly run tournament. The icing was what is in every other tournament a 10-minute medal ceremony, that turned into an interminable wait for any form of acknowledgment or authority figure to take charge. When someone finally stepped up, it was akin to a duffer agonizing over a six-inch putt for quadruple bogey- get off the stage! ACTION: Hope we never have to play there again.

and some things sucked in Chattanooga as well…

-One morning when I was desperately hungry, and craving a butter croissant, I went to the ordinarily outstanding Neidlov’s. Problem was, on this day it was cash only – who the hell carries cash anymore. I ended up leaving hungry and bitterly disappointed. ACTION: I’m boycotting Neidlov’s for some amount of time, yet to be determined.

-After a particularly hard day, I left a meeting at River City and dropped downstairs to Community Pie, as I was craving their papardelle Bolognese. To my dismay, they have taken that off the menu. Being a Cretan, the bartender couldn’t fathom that I didn’t want another pasta with the same sauce. The pasta should be the star, the sauce is simply a condiment. I left without eating- hungry and disappointed. ACTION: I’m boycotting Community Pie for the indefinite future. 

That’s all I can write about as far as things that suck go. Deep breath. How about some good things? I’m proceeding with my new happiness strategy, and it seems to be working pretty well when I’m not in a rage. I’m still trying to figure the rural land issue out so I can design and build a new house (but nothing is set yet, so please keep the tips and leads coming!) Retail therapy has been quite successful, but I might cool those greens until we get the house stuff figured out. I got to take my new rifle out earlier this week before I left. I stopped by Academy Sports to buy some ammo beforehand and ended up buying a new gun as well- I’m officially out of control (I love it). As you may have inferred from above, I have also decided to damn the reasons that I can’t embark on long-distance travel, and that is what I’m up to this week. A lot you know about it, the rest of you will have to wait until next week to hear the details – unless you keep an eye on Facebook.

On the health front, I’m back on the chemo these days, so fatigue is still an issue, as is pain from time to time. As I understand it, we’ve slightly adjusted the chemo, and the side effects are slightly different. Sensitivity to cold of all kinds, and let’s say “intestinal distress” at inopportune moments are the two biggest. They keep telling me I’m going to lose my hair, but it’s heroically hanging on as best I can tell. It’s also supposed to be some seriously nasty stuff, but I don’t feel too bad off. My biggest issue right now is my self-diagnosed gastroparesis. Essentially, my stomach is not clearing food that I eat, so a meal can sit around in there for a day or two causing gas, cramps, reflux, bloating, vomiting, etc. It makes it difficult to eat because there is no room for new food to go- this is probably a big reason why I keep losing/can’t gain weight.

On the happy side of health, however, I have found, that at least for now, if I keep on top of the pain management, nap regularly, and give my body a break from time to time, I’m fine as frog hair. Ooh, I love a nap- any time of day or night. Give me my couch, my Phi Delt blanket and anything over 20 minutes and I’m golden. 

That’s my thousand-plus words for the week. Be on the lookout for a more interesting post next time. I'm still ready to die, but on my terms. See you next week?

As for music, why not keep it aggressive and vulgar? I'm gon give it to ya

Above the Dirt

Well friends, after your robust response yesterday, I feel compelled to make a quick follow-up. Perhaps I put too a fine a point on a post that was essentially a whinge about the difficulties of not having "a future" to look forward to.

There is no need to hide my shoe-laces and belts. I have no nefarious intent for either of new firearms. I am still 100% fully engaged in my professional work both in Chattanooga and in the great state of Iowa (where I can found this week). I still love ya'll, and I'm not completely checking out of my social responsibilities.

I greatly appreciate all of your sentiments, best wishes, and love- I can feel it. So, as I said, don't cry for me just yet, I'm still above the dirt.

I'll be back soon, in the meantime, enjoy some pix of the new Beretta...

Sleep Now in the Fire

Ok, this is serious and I need your help. I’ve decided that I have the wherewithal to find some land and design one last home for myself. The problem is, I don’t have land. In the past I restricted myself to urban neighborhoods (surprise), but I've since become enamored with the possibility of something in the country, rural, or semi-rural. If you happen to know of anything on the market in the Chattanooga area that might appeal- PLEASE give me a shout (I’m on tight schedule here- death is nipping at my heels.) I’ve posted on Facebook, and asked a real estate agent to help, but nothing has turned up so far. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE help. 

Also, please let me know if there is a custom home builder that you or a friend have used and been very happy with, I could use some recommendations on that part of the equation as well. 

(Please note: I do feel bad about pleading for your help before I drop this awful blog post on you).

This post may be disappointing for a number of you to read. It has been disappointing to write. This is perhaps appropriate, however, as life is a disappointment. I’m going all Charles Barkley on you this week- so remember, I am not a role model. 

I’m ready to die. Not from the sense that I’ve made things right with the Lord and my soul is prepared- I’ve been there for a while. I mean, I’ve had about all I can take. 19 months of some of the wickedest chemotherapy you can cook up, coupled with a serious radiation session when my colon was invaded has made my life during this time pretty damned tough (not the mention the two bouts of sepsis, the other infections, the months of hospital stays, the half dozen ERCPs, the dozen drain replacements, the six weeks of home IV anti-biotics, the half dozen abscessograms, and countless CTs, scans and labs). We all know there is no “getting better” from gall bladder cancer. It doesn’t appear that my quality of life will improve, I just have to make myself happy with less and less as time passes. Well, I’ve reached a point where moving on to what’s next doesn’t sound like such a dire proposition. I’m quite ready to move on. I'm ready to die. 

The central question has been how to live any form of meaningful life given my current circumstance. As I've said previously, before cancer I had it all figured out. I knew what was important in life, and what I needed to do on a daily basis to enjoy it. It just so happened that those things all happened to be legally, ethically and morally sound, made a positive contribution to society, and generally conformed to what it means to be a “good person”. I put god and my family first, then found things that made life enjoyable- and I was indeed living a dream.

To be sure, there are a number of those things that cancer can’t touch, and that I continue to do. The ability to love my children is a simple example. But let’s be frank- with school and friends and their own interests, how much time do a seven year old and an eleven year old want to spent with a broken old person who’s too weak to even be able to kick a soccer ball with them?

Cancer has managed to rob me of virtually everything that helped me enjoy life. 

I can’t play sports- to the point that I’m too weak to throw a football to my children (much less play basketball with my friends). Go for a run- ha! Return to the triathlon world- what a joke.

I can’t travel- of course, I can technically buy a ticket and go to Rome if I wish. My skeleton of a body, however, is too frail to sit in an airline seat for eight hours (even in the front of the plane). Once there, I’m too fatigued to be able to effectively walk anywhere. Then, there’s the whole question of being near my doctors. 

I can’t eat- technically I can eat, however, the cancer has robbed me of my appetite. It has also changed the way food tastes. No matter how much I eat, I can’t gain weight or strength, I currently weight 50 pounds less than I should- that’s almost 33%.

I can’t cook- one of my great joys in life was preparing meals for my family on a daily basis and twice a day on the weekends. I no have the stamina to work in the kitchen. It’s also difficult to cook when the prospect of eating is so unpleasant. 

I can’t consume alcohol- Due to the condition of my liver, there is no alcohol at all. No wine with my pasta, no beer with a sausage. No social drink of whiskey with a client, no drinks to fit in with the crowd. No drinks to drown myself to escape this situation. 

I can’t swim. With the various tubes sticking out of my liver and out of my body, immersion is a no-no. So for every vacation I get the gut punch of having to tell the boys I can't play in the ocean or jump in the pool with them. It’s awful. (a quick hop in the shower is also a thing of the past- anything like that requires thirty minutes of wrapping up like a mummy.

It’s tougher to enjoy my friends- I’ve never been a very social person. I’m not the guy that goes out to meet his buddies every evening- I vastly prefer returning home to the boys every afternoon. Getting together with my closest friends, however, is still very tough. A lot of those relationships were lubricated by grabbing an adult beverage (not an option), or an occasional cigar (not an option). Layer on to that the awkwardness of dealing of with someone whose death is imminent is also tough for some folks. Which is not to say that I’ve lost  track with everyone- I still see the ones that matter from time to time. I’ve become a good judge of who’s with me. 

I can’t garden/work in the yard- again with the lack of stamina, and a skeletal frame that doesn’t do well with bending over, or up and down movements it’s just not possible.

I can’t teach anymore- I really enjoyed teaching the architecture history class at UTC. With the uncertainty in my schedule due to chemo and unanticipated procedures, I can’t commit to being there the way I need to.

All of this is to say that virtually all of the things that I enjoyed in life have been taken away. Think of the things that make your broader life worth living (disregarding the family/love thing which we’ve already covered)- what is life without those things? What is life? When robbed of the things in life that one enjoys, you are left with no life at all. Try waking up to that every morning. 

I’m arrived at the point where I’ve finally lost the ability to put a happy face on things. I’ve carried on for 19 months with that attitude in all manner of blogs and podcasts and social media, but it’s run out.  I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. I’m over talking about how I’m living the dream. Most of the things that I’ve ever enjoyed in life have been taken from me, and I can’t honestly look someone in the eye and talk about how great things are. 

I won’t even start on the people who are trying taking advantage of me, or trying to make my life more difficult. That’s for another post, and I’ll deal with them they way the way need to be dealt with.  

I’m sure there are a number of you who will be disappointed in my attitude, because my previous one was “uplifting”, or “inspiring”, or some other such adjective. The good lord will probably have a few things to say about it himself. My only defense is that expressing myself honestly and telling the truth as I see it is more important to me than getting Facebook likes. I'm not putting my blog out as a book as some have requested, I'm not a writing yet another tired book from the terminal cancer patient as has become de rigueur. I'm living the rest of life (may it be appropriately short) on my terms.

So that’s where things stand right now. There are a couple of things I’ll leave you with in parting:

1) Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m dealing with things in my own way. If you see me at the office, in a restaurant, a coffee shop, or otherwise out in public, I’m there for a reason. I’ll be there with a smile on my face and a positive attitude. I’ll continue to do an excellent job in my professional endeavors, and will remain a steadfast friend to my friends. The attitude described in this blog post is of my private self. Please feel free to treat me (and my public self) the way you always have.

2) I’ve also decided to once again take charge of my life and enjoy what’s left of it and be happy. Unfortunately, unlike the previous “good person” approach, it’s looking like I will have to do this from a place of selfishness. Obviously, it will not be my intent to harm others, but I’m 100% committed to doing what is best for me. You may or may not recognize the difference. Under my new policy, a few things have made me happy: a) a new shotgun, b) a new assault rifle (I had to buy it before Hillary gets elected), c) telling fast food workers on Broad Street my opinion on their job performance, d) a new pair of obnoxious gucci loafers, e) significantly exceeding the speed limit in my car (which is designed to exceed the speed limit), and g) the lifting of the ban on Cuban cigars for personal use.

I don’t know where the blog will fit in with this new approach. I suspect that it will be less fun for you to read about my selfish hedonistic adventures than self-righteous platitudes about how to take cancer in stride. In either event, as always, if it write it here, it will be the truth (unlike either the criminal or clown that are vying to run our country). But the bigger question will be if writing about the shambles of what i've been left with will appeal to me at all. 

Better than beating the Vols...which to be fair is old hat now.

Oh, and I guess I should say something about Alabama beating Tennessee again. I'm missed the game because I was watching my youngest play soccer in his first ever travel tournament. Go Team, I guess. 

See ya’ll whenever next time is. Enjoy some Rage this week.

Obligatory Ironman Post

So, now that Chattanooga hosts its own Ironman event, I am forced to remind everyone each year that I once finished an Ironman- Florida 2002.

This update is different. Similar to the Zapruder film, video evidence of the event has been uncovered. As my brother was the cameraman, only he can explain why less than two minutes exist of an event that lasted well over a dozen hours (if you know Andrew, then you won't need to question why). Here we go.

Still looking for time and motivation to write you a real post. I'll do my best.

Another Update Post

It’s been a rather hectic autumn. A shame really. This is one of my favorite times of the year, and I didn’t really get to enjoy it. To be fair, my doctors and nurses are all still shocked/amazed that I’m working full-time while undergoing treatment for multiple liver abscesses, administering home IV antibiotics, and dealing with three drains hanging out of my liver. Eh, what’s a guy to do, stay at home and watch Springer? (I'm dating myself) No time for a deep and/or meaningful post, so you must once again settle for an update. 

Work has been a mixed bag. As always, Iowa has been a joy and pleasure to work on, and we’re busy on some really good projects. Closer to home, it’s been a bit of a struggle for a variety of reasons. This will be an interesting topic to write about when the time is right, but now I’m keeping my nose to the grindstone.

A few weeks ago the state chapter of the AIA held their annual convention in Chattanooga. On the final day they presented me with the 2016 TN AIA Presidential Award of Excellence. Ostensibly, this is for my efforts in working to establish the Design Studio, but as with a number of the other very kind gestures I’ve received over the past year, I suspect my cancer also has something to do with it. Cancer or no cancer, however, that’s a tremendous acknowledgment and I appreciate everyone who had something to do with it- I would name names, but I’m sure I’d forget someone, but anyway, you know who you are. 

Many thanks to the architects. 

In other C.Rushing news, a few months I agreed to sit down with my buddy Matt Busby to talk about cancer and career. A few weeks ago when he launched his Camp House podcast, he put those interviews online. If you haven’t had a chance to check them out, you can find the career interview here and the cancer interview here. (and he’s big on checking the analytics of his site, so please at least follow the links and let’s see if we can get his numbers up. 

As far as ‘Bama goes, I have severe concerns. The finals of our two games have belied what I consider to be serious flaws in the football team. Although it will break my heart to see, I suspect they will lose two games this years- it feels an awful lot like 2010. As long as we beat Tennessee and Auburn, however, I’ll be able to die happy.

Ya’ll have a great week, and hopefully I’ll be able to really get back with you soon. Cheers.