I got up early today 0400. I went to bed at about 2130, so that’s about 6-½ hours sleep. Not too bad. I’ll get some more in few minutes (feeling kind of drowsy right now), but I wanted to get some kind of post out to you guys in case you read this with your Cheerios.

            I have a little tiny fuzzy moustache that has taken me five weeks to grow. It’s not that I have been purposely trying to grow a moustache a 14-year-old would be proud, it’s just that I haven’t needed to shave thanks to the chemo.

Now, now, men don’t be jealous. I should get some kind of fringe benefit from all the chemo and if it’s not having to hassle with shaving, that’s fine with me. I must admit though, that I miss a steaming hot shower, softened beard, a cup of warm shaving lather applied with a horsehair shaving brush, and the long luxurious strokes of a sharp razor. That’s shaving at its best. This isn’t “run out the door late for work” shaving, this “early morning, plaid cotton pajama bottoms and long sleeve tee-shirt, cool autumn weekend” shaving. The only thing better than that is replacing the shower with a soaking bath so hot you can barely stand it, while sitting in the tub with a tumbler of Jameson’s on the rocks.

Back to my imperceptible moustache. When this is all over I plan to grow a big bushy Montana wax-tipped handlebar moustache. It’s going to be so big and out of context, that’ll distract people at meetings when I go back to work. I’m talking an enormous cowboy-stache. I’m going to twist the sides up so I look Snidely Whiplash.

I forgot how handsome ole Snidely was ‘till I found this picture. I may have to get the hat too. I mean they really do go together. Although I probably won’t go so far as tying damsels to railroad tracks; there’s always a Dudley Do-Right around when you start doing that.

            Those are my big goals for when I finish this cancer thing.