The phone call has been made…and I report for surgery tomorrow at , or what my friend Elisson refreshingly calls “the butt-crack of dawn.” (Commenter Maureen—aka bluefly—likes to use the expression “the crack of ice.”) They’ll begin slicing me open at , and if everything goes as planned I’m sure there’ll be more cracking…cans of Bud Light, I’m guessing.
Until then, please make Pam feel at home—she’ll be watching the blog for the duration or, to use a term I’ve picked up from watching too many Rawhide reruns, “she’s got the herd.” She wanted me to stress that expectations shouldn’t be stretched too high as “I am not a blogger.” (She’s too modest to mention that she was an understudy for the female lead in the off-Broadway musical Out of the Blog. Yes, I just made that up.)
To all of those people who sent me well-wishes—I treasure each and every one of you. Simply put, you’re the best. Until then…to quote Chairman Mitchum from His Kind of Woman (1951): “I’ll see you all of a sudden, Sam…”