Laid-Back Hypochondria

I was bicycling in very cold weather recently, so I was wearing the assortment of layers and accessories necessary when your workout creates a personal wind-chill factor. I work hard during my bike rides, trying to keep my heart rate above 150 for at least a half hour.

Halfway through my ride, I noticed my right eyelid was drooping. I rubbed my eye a little, hoping the sagging would go away with a little massage, but no luck.

I thought about possible causes. I kicked around stroke and Bell's Palsy. I remembered the Ptosis that caused Stallone's drooping lids. I wondered if this was one of those seemingly-unrelated symptoms you have when you have a heart attack, like shooting pains in your arms.

I mulled it over for the rest of my ride and made up my mind to Google the condition and send my doctor a note.

As I was taking off gear, though, the condition went away. A little experimentation revealed that the headband that covers my ears on colder rides was pushing my brow downward, creating a little slack in my eyelid. Cured.

I'm not really surprised by my hypochondria. I've met me, and that's completely consistent with my past experience with myself. What surprises me is my completely nonplused attitude. I didn't react with "OH MY GOD, I'M HAVING A STROKE!", or "IT'S A HEART ATTACK!" My response was "crap. I have to deal with this now."

Ten-year-old me would have mixed feelings. I would have been appalled to learn that I'd grow up to be afraid a simple bike ride would take me down, but I think I'd have had a sense of pride at the manly way I faced that perceived mortal threat.

That's at least a little bit like being Batman, isn't it?

A Warm Sweatshirt

Last night I slept in a Columbia motel that met my four comedy criteria: cheap, clean, safe, and wifi.

The night manager was wearing a heavy, tight-weave sweat shirt with an embroidered Louis L'Amour logo, so I asked him about it. Turns out his father couldn't read, and the only books that held his father's interest were L'Amour's westerns, so he used the books to teach his dad to read. The shirt was a rare collectible -- one of only 18 ever made -- the man had bought for his dad, so when his dad died, he got it in the inheritance.

When I opined that a shirt like that probably means a lot to a guy, he said "yeah, and it's really warm, too."

If I'd spent $300 on a Westin room (let's pretend I have that kind of money), I would have had a pleasant, well-managed experience identical to the stay any other Westin would offer. I'd have missed paint-over-plywood repairs, splitting caulk and old (but clean) carpet.

I'd also have missed that story.

You Say Studebaker; I Say Sturtebaker

The Sturtebaker

The Noble Sturtebaker. It's motto: "...and miles to go before I sleep."

New Cards and New Habit

I was in the audience at a show recently, and afterwards my friend, Kelly, and I were hanging out. We met a woman who, after finding out we both perform, asked for our cards.

Neither of us were packin'. When we both fumbled around in our wallets and explained we don't always have cards when we're not going to be on stage, she was shocked and said "always have cards -- no matter what!"

You know what? She's right. I'll still fill up my shirt pocket when I perform, but now I'll also have a couple in my wallet at all times.

Here's the new card, updated today with new website and QR on back:

Laugh Your Asheville Off 2014

Just got the news: I'll be joining many terrific comics in August's Laugh Your Asheville Off Festival! 

I always love LYAO. A zillion very talented comics descend on our fair city and light up the town for a fun weekend. Stories are told, friendships are forged and memories are made -- all in my adopted hometown, so I don't have to travel to see it all!

The festival runs August 12-16, and when they become available you'll be able to get tickets at LYAO's website: http://www.laughyourashevilleoff.com

I look forward to seeing you there!

I have three flavors of granola bar in a file drawer at work, and when I grab one out I like to reach in blind to prevent my eating all the peanut butter ones (my favorite) first. This morning I pulled out a chocolate chunk bar, and before I even thought about it I mumbled out loud "alas, earwax."