Earlier this week, Gwenn and I went to Cleveland to visit her mom, and we were on our way back home on Halloween night, and Gwenn was feeling really guilty on the flight home.
“I left the front porch light on,” she said. It was just eating her up that little ghouls and goblins were ambling up to our door, knocking and knocking to no avail. Fortunately, when we got home we weren’t treated to eggs or anything on said door.
The next day was the Mexican holiday, the Day of the Dead. Go Wiki it, it’s a pretty cool thing. Ironically, I felt really alive after a couple days of sluggishness, and woke up bright and early, ready to tackle the Day. We went to the Bluegrass Grill for some downhome breakfast, then to Java Java, where my friend was shocked to see me at 10 AM. Nothing like a Day of the Dead spook.
With my iced mocha fix, Gwenn and I walked down the downtown mall a bit, and there were some Day of the Dead decorations in the windows, which was fun to look at. Then it was back home to pack up my things and fly out at 1 PM down to Orlando for the National Hemophilia Foundation’s Anual Meeting, where I am now.
I usually don’t embarrass readers in my blog, but I’ve been on a roll lately and Britney was actually honored to be posted. When I got here last night, one of the cool folks who works at AHF (American Home Federation, the good folks who supply my hemophilia meds) gushed about this little ’ol blog. So here’s a shout out: Thanks for reading! No, you’re not stalking me, you enjoy a finely written blog by a handsome bleeder, and you are not alone.
So yes, today I do some light lifting at the AHF booth in about a half hour, signing books and greeting the thinblooded masses, many of whom I recognize from last year’s conference and HFA (Hemophilia Federation of America, I know, this is more confusing than pro wrestling) conference me and Gwenn spoke at in Albuquerque.
OK, no neat tidy bow at the end of this one. Happy November.