Atticus Gets His Grin On (And My Tricycle Tour of Boerne)

So, picture this: me, sporting a stylish pink-toenail-accented cast (Achilles, don't ask), cruising around on a tricycle, and my cat, Atticus, on his way to the cat orthodontist. Yes, you read that right. Apparently, in Texas, feline dental hygiene is a serious business, and the only cat orthodontist in the entire state resides in the charming town of Boerne.

It all started with Atticus's, shall we say, enthusiastic tooth growth. We were initially told he might need to become a "gummy bear" (the official term, apparently, in cat-dentistry circles), meaning a full mouth extraction. I was devastated! Visions of Atticus living a mushy-food-only existence danced in my head. But, the vet assured me, sometimes a gummy bear life is a better life, as it alleviates chronic pain cats are masters at masking.

So, off we went to Boerne! I joked about Atticus wanting Invisalign, but truth be told, we were just hoping he wouldn't need a full set of dentures.

Drop-off day meant a day of Boerne exploration for Kristy and me. First stop: a local coffee shop that also happened to be a gun store. Talk about a culture clash! I ordered a drip coffee, while Kristy pondered the merits of a .38 special. Me, on my pink-toenail-enhanced tricycle, observing this scene? Pure comedy gold.

Coffee Shop

Next, a brewery for lunch (water for me, since I'm off the sauce). Boerne is really a beautiful and quirky town. Then, to the local library, where we devoured every magazine in sight. It was a lovely, laid-back day, all while Atticus was having his tiny chompers scrutinized.

The best news? Atticus only needed two extractions and a little filing! No gummy bear life for him! He's been incredibly cuddly and affectionate since, which I'm taking as a big "thank you" for saving his smile.

I'm so glad we took him. Turns out, a trip to the cat orthodontist, a pink-toenail tricycle adventure, and a gun-store coffee run makes for a pretty memorable day. And more importantly, Atticus's smile is safe!

Resting comfortably 

From Drunk Clown to… Sober? A Nebraska Hangover

"You're not going to change him." - Charles

For decades, alcohol was my co-pilot. It wasn't just something I enjoyed; it was practically woven into the fabric of my identity, especially amongst my closest friends. I was the "funny one," the life of the party. Looking back, I realize I was playing a role: the Drunk Clown. And honestly? I was good at it. I reveled in the laughter, the camaraderie, the feeling of being the center of attention. But beneath the surface, a nagging question lingered: was that all I was?

My recent journey toward sobriety—I have been nearly 5 months alcohol free (144 days but whose counting) – not a drop, to be honest—it started with a stark realization, a post-Nebraska reckoning. The trip itself, a long-planned boys' getaway with my best friends—guys I've known for 18 years—was…well, let's just say it wasn't my finest hour but it was pretty typical. These are my drinking buddies. Our shared history is practically marinated in hops and barley.

Think about it: we've done everything together, from all night running races fueled by pre/during/post race beers to the infamous Beer Mile (don't judge – I’m a champion). We even brewed our own concoctions in a club we hilariously named Ridicule Brewing – where we had lots of 4^th placed beers.  Alcohol was the constant, the glue, the punchline. It was us. It was me.

So, Nebraska was…predictable. I slept in my clothes on a couch every night. I missed dinner the first night because I was passed out drunk. I was the Drunk Clown, performing my usual routine. The laughter was there – I’ll always have a thing for Ms. Pacman, but this time, it felt different. I had had enough.

The trip, although it was a fun escape and I wouldn’t change anything, became a glaring reflection of my relationship with alcohol. It was a bigger part of my life than I wanted to admit. And honestly, I was tired. Tired of the hangovers, the blackouts, the feeling of constantly needing to perform / escape.

The biggest takeaway from Nebraska? It wasn't the camaraderie or the laughter. It was the shame. The realization that I was relying on alcohol to be someone I wasn't, to mask insecurities and avoid real connection.

So, two weeks after the Nebraska trip, I woke up (actually, I had been switching to NA beers several weeks prior to the trip – the summer had been filled with mild debauchery) and decided enough was enough. I was done being the Drunk Clown. I was done with the hangovers and the missed dinners and the feeling of being a caricature of myself.

So, I have up and pulled a Keith. I still have questions. What will future gatherings look like? Will the dynamic shift permanently? Will I still be funny (and more importantly, will I still be myself) without the crutch of alcohol?  I don’t have any plans on dancing with the girls on Frenchman Street. I think this is permanent. 

Since quitting alcohol my blood pressure has returned to normal.  My cholesterol has returned to normal.  My baseline happiness has (mostly) returned to normal.  I remember everything, for better or worse.  My weight has…  well, stayed the same – I still need to drop a few pounds. 

I don’t have all the answers. But I do know this: I’m not the Drunk Clown anymore. I’m something…else. Something more authentic, more present.  I have learned that drinking did not make me more interesting, it made others more interesting.  I’m still pretty darn funny but fewer bodily fluids hit the floor now.

 

The Great Mug Catastrophe: A Tale of Ironman Triumph and Ceramic Tragedy

   Note:  most of this is true but I used CHAT-GPT AI to write this post (slightly edited). 

Chapter 1: The Mug That Defied Gravity

Once upon a time, in the mystical land of Caffeineville, there existed a coffee mug unlike any other. It was forged in the fires of determination, glazed with sweat (and maybe a little bit of spilled coffee), and emblazoned with the triumphant emblem of an Ironman triathlon. This mug had seen things—early mornings, late nights, and more coffee spills than a clumsy octopus at a tea party.

Our hero (that’s me) had acquired this mug back in 2009 after completing the Ironman. For those unfamiliar with the Ironman, it’s basically a test of human endurance that involves swimming, cycling, and running distances that would make a marathon look like a leisurely stroll to the mailbox. But hey, I did it! And as a reward, I got this mug—a tangible reminder of my athletic prowess and my questionable life choices.

Well worn coffee mug.  I searched for a replacement to no avail.

Chapter 2: The Tragic Shatter Heard 'Round the Kitchen

Fast forward 15 years. The mug had become an integral part of my daily routine. Every morning, I’d fill it with the elixir of productivity (a.k.a. coffee) and sip from it like a medieval knight savoring victory wine. It had survived countless dishwasher cycles, accidental drops, and even a close encounter with the cat’s tail. But fate, it seems, had other plans.

One fateful morning, as I reached for the mug, tragedy struck. My hand slipped, and the mug plummeted to the floor. Time slowed down. I watched in horror as it somersaulted through the air, its Ironman logo winking mockingly at me. And then—crash!—it shattered into a million ceramic pieces. I fell to my knees, coffee tears streaming down my face. The mug was gone. My heart was broken. My caffeine supply was in jeopardy.

Chapter 3: Kristy to the Rescue

Enter my wife, Kristy. She found me huddled in the kitchen, mourning the loss of my beloved mug. She patted my shoulder sympathetically and said, “Fear not, my dear. I have a solution.” And with that, she produced a shiny new pint glass adorned with—you guessed it—the Ironman logo. Apparently, she’d been planning this surprise for weeks. She knew how much that old mug meant to me.

I stared at the pint glass, torn between gratitude and skepticism. Could this glass ever replace my faithful mug? Would it hold the same magic? Would it make my Coors Banquet taste like victory and electrolytes? Only time would tell.

Chapter 4: The Pint Glass Chronicles

And so, I began my new beer-drinking era with the Ironman pint glass. It felt different—sleeker, taller, and less prone to tipping over. But could it withstand the rigors of daily use? Would it survive the patio, the garage, and my occasional clumsiness? I christened it “Triathlete’s Chalice” and vowed to treat it with the reverence it deserved.

Days turned into weeks, and the pint glass proved its mettle. It held my Coors like a champion, its logo gleaming proudly. I even caught myself whispering motivational quotes to it: “You can do it, little glass! You’re an Ironman too!” Kristy raised an eyebrow but wisely said nothing.

I hope to use it just as much as the coffee mug.

Epilogue: A New Beginning

So here I am, sipping from my Ironman pint glass as I write this blog post. The old mug may be gone, but its spirit lives on. And who knows? Maybe one day, when I’m old and gray (and still caffeinated), I’ll pass down the Triathlete’s Chalice to my sister's kids. They’ll look at it and say, “Wow, Uncle James, you must have been one heck of an athlete.” And I’ll nod sagely and reply, “Nah, kid. I just really liked my Coors.”

And that, my friends, is the story of how a broken mug led to a pint-sized triumph. So raise your cups (or pint glasses) to life’s little victories, and may your Coors always be cold and your mugs unbreakable. Cheers! 🏊‍♂️🚴‍♂️🏃‍♂️🍺

Peru, pets and triggers.

Disclaimer - these posts are for me - I think they help me -  it is my journal.  Please don't be hateful.



Side note - It takes about 2 days before Peruvian mosquito bites swell up and start inching.  Anbesol helps (its for teething).

I have not blogged or even thought of this blog in a long time.  Clicking around I see that I used to blog a heck of a lot - in fact this will be post 781 (although maybe just a half dozen posts in the past 3 years).  I think I just got tired of reading and posting about exercise.  I'm still active but have not raced in a long time.  I think I was probably replacing parts of my life with training and racing.  I'm not trying to fill those voids anymore.  Back to the point - writing (and blogging) has been cathartic for me in the past - so here goes.

Had a whirlwind of a vacation to Machu Picchu this month.  There were 12 of us - my sisters family of 5, another close family of 5 and Kristy and myself.  There were ups and downs (literally - 2 near 14,000 peaks in one day) - struggles, victories  and just a few tears but we all made the 4 day trek - sleeping in tents (35 degrees), hiking up to 10 hours a day, and pooping in holes on the ground.  An adventure for sure.  (I'll try to post more about the trek but you know me and my recent blogging - nonexistent).

I had a couple of alpaca burgers while travelling.

Eat 'Em Up, Cats

We were gone 8 or 9 days.  Kristy had a sweet grad student house sit / cat sit while we were gone.  In the past we have had neighborhood kids come by to play / feed Radley - he gets along with everyone.  I secretly think my sister's kids only come over to play with the cat.  (sorry - this is going to be a picture heavy post).  Scroll down for more text.

He was a runty sick little kitty cat.  But cute as hell.

Once he was well - the runty didn't last long.

He never knew an unfriendly box or bag.

I would ask him what he was up to for the day.  He would reply, "Patrol, eat, and sleep - but not necessarily that order.

He did eventually grow into his ears - it took a little while.

He also grew into his tree.

He had his own bean bag chair.

As soon as I got up for a different exercise he always worked in - he was my shadow.

He was sophisticated - Martini glasses because he ate like a pig and this kept the mess down.

One of his favorite perches on the back of 'his' chair.

Must be Caterday.

Checking in from the neighbors house - He used to make sure the kids next door were doing their homework. 

Big morning stretch.

He did not love the hammock but if I was in it he was just underneath.

One of the rare times that we has not spooning me.

Did you wake me up, did you rub my lamp?

He liked the night stand.  In it, on top of it.

The tree was on a table before we moved - I think he felt like he was in the Amazon or something.  He loved being high up.  He would climb the pine trees at the old house.

Just chillin.

Cat nap.

He loved the deck at the old house and was looking forward to me building him one here.

Favorite spot.

Too lazy to climb the tree I guess.

After 24 hours of flying (fortunately Peru is the same time zone as Texas - so we were tired by not really jet lagged) we arrive back in Austin.  The sweet grad student was right on time - she had volunteered to pick us up at the airport.  Kristy gave her a woven  shawl that she had picked up at a market.  We asked the grad student how the week had been - we had limited Internet and zero cell service for the trip.  We had Facebooked back in forth once or twice and saw that Radley had made himself comfortable on the grad student's backpack (on the dinning room table no less).

The grad student said that she had not seen Radley in 2 days (not a big deal to me).  But then she said that he had not eaten his food - That is a big deal.  The cat woke me up every morning - he got fed sloppy canned food twice a day (please don't judge me on this issue) - he got fed in the morning and in the evening.  I had wanted to feed him at 7AM and 7PM - on the 7's I would tell him.  We even set unique alarms to try to condition him to dinner time.  Well, he would come into the bedroom and basically say - "It's 5 o'clock somewhere!"  He did the same in the evening.  He trained me and was fed on the 5's. 

I was pretty sure that as soon as we got home from the airport he would wake up and come trotting out to see us and tell us about his day and ask where we had been.  That's what he did - almost everyday.  (FYI- he is an inside / outside cat - he has his own door and keys to the house).

Well, he did not come out to greet us.  He has a little Bluetooth tracker on his harness - it is not very precise but we knew he was close by.  Somewhere near the house.  I walked all around the house upstairs and down.  I then walked outside around the house and looked in all of his sleep spots - he had a few.  I thought I had heard a faint meow - maybe we has in the storm drain trapped or something.  Nope, It was the laughter of the kids at the neighborhood pool.

Suddenly, Kristy ran out of the house screaming and fell into the yard crying.

I'll summarize here - The perfect trap and inadvertently been laid for the boy.  Radley never liked a closed door.  Somehow he had gotten into an upstairs closet.  Not good, but not a big deal.  Just a couple of weeks earlier I had locked him in an extra bedroom that I was making up for my sister's family.  He was locked in the extra bedroom from 7AM to 7PM.  I'm sure we was not comfortable and he had relieved himself on a small pillow - when I got home I looked all around and finally found him.  I gave him a hug, some extra sloppy food and threw the pillow away - I told him I was sorry he had such a bad day.  He didn't leave my side for the rest of the day / night.

This time was different.  In the closet, there were a couple of small empty Rubbermaid containers (a little bigger than shoe boxed sized) on top of some boxes.  After the fact, I'm not even sure if the closet door was open or closed - it probably would not have matter.  Radley jumped into the empty container and it slid between the wall and a box trapping him in the container against the wall. 

(I have to know the facts - I guess I am like CSI or something in that respect - this is not the first time I have HAD to do this - I have thought about how this happened and I am pretty sure of the reconstruction). 

Because the containers were stacked at an angle (they were not exactly the same so they could not nest together perfectly)  the bottom container acted like a wedge.  Radley must have jumped into the container - as we is want to do - and the container slid and pinned himself against the wall.

This is were I am struggling - Radley was family.  He brought me pure joy - I love that cat.  And he knows it.  When he was found his little paws were bloodied half way up his little arms.  He was soaked in sweat.  I am sure that he panicked and was terrified.  Every square inch of the wall was clawed bare and bloodied.  The way in which the containers fell with he closet molding to one side there was absolutely no way that he could have freed himself.  I'm sure he panicked and panicked and panicked and screamed and cried until he either had a stroke or heart attack.  I am tormented in the way in which he died.  I hate that he suffered.  I just want to take his pain away.

Now before you say he has just a cat - well, screw off.  He was my cat and I loved him - I have lost a lot of pets and they were all hard - but this one was different.  I feel like something of PURE JOY was stolen from me.  I'm sad and I' mad.

It's complicated -

Not a lot of people know me - somethings just don't come up or need to come up in casual conversation.  Well this has triggered some deep emotional turmoil.  You see, Tuesday marks a significant date for me.  I'm very date oriented - I never forget birthdays, anniversaries or most other dates.  The best way to describe it is that dates on a calendar, in my mind, glow.  When the dates get closer they glow brighter.  August has always sucked.  It will be 12 years on Tuesday since I lost my beloved Sharla (you know - Charlie to her friends - Sorry Charlie - yeah she never heard that one before) and darling Lainie.  Freak'n A - I miss them just as much today!  I hate that they suffered as well.  PURE JOY stolen.

I have no animosity  towards the sweet grad student - I for one know - bad things happen - you can do everything right and they still happen.  Sometimes life is just shitty.

I have already written about all of this in the past. I re-read these 3 posts ever year - they are for me but if you want to catch up - here you go - the wayback machine - Link to the Past.

My babies - the day before.

If you see Kristy or I in the next day or so - Please give a hug.

San Marcos Downtown Run

(I'll catch everyone up in the next blog or two - I have moved, changed jobs, etc -maybe I'll get back to blogging again - maybe)

I had a nice run downtown today.  I have been very consistent with my lunch runs - I don't think I have missed a Monday - Friday run in 6 weeks or so.  Prior to the Halloween floods I had been running at the park and swimming (bathing) in the river after each run.  The water is very refreshing being that it is at a constant 68 - 70 degrees.  It is also crystal clear and 'cleansing'.  However, since the floods the parks have been closed.  The downtown area is a short walk from work and I have created a bit of a lunch bunch of runners.  There is an established 5k route.  the company is appreciated.

Today I had a brisk run downtown.  It was a good run.  I often run without my glasses - I am pretty near sighted so I can see everything close - it is just with distance that things get blurry (this has served me well at various locker rooms in the past- there is nothing I want to see - I think Jim can attest to that - if you are bringing a step stool then I am heading the other direction).

It was a good run.  Although the temperatures have turned cooler I has pretty damp.  I was wearing my short shorts and thought about taking the shirt off - but I am not Charles - I have shame.

As I was walking down the sidewalk near campus there was a sporty convertible.  I am oblivious to most things but I do notice some cars (and some drivers).  So, there was this sporty convertible with these two sporty co-eds.

As I walked by, the passenger literally leaned out of the car and looked straight at me.  This caught my attention.  She yelled with a smile, "You got any free samples?"

I thought about the short shorts and the damp shirt.  I'm sure I got a smile on my face but I really was taken aback.  It has been awhile since I have been ogled and cat called.  And then, ...  The jimmy johns guy pedaled past me on his bike.  All dreams were dashed.  Those damned delivery guys and those hungry, hungry girls.

I'll be back tomorrow, and the next day - just to make sure...