The Midnight Special has a verse that goes: “You get up in the morning when the ding-dong rings. You go to the table, see the same damn things…”

I sometimes sing the whole damn song, but that is the verse that has all the meaning for me right now. It’s apropos of my day. Today is day 67. I’m two-thirds of the way through my hundred-day odyssey. A malaise is setting in. I’m beginning to understand why that ancient mariner bumped off that albatross. It made that day different from all his other days. Read the rest of this entry »

It turns out that when a person gets a stem cell transplant from a donor of a different gender, he/she ends up with the chromosomes of that gender. For the scientifically challenged, like me, it comes down to this. Real men have XY chromosomes, for whatever that’s worth. The women that real men like to date have XX chromosomes running around in their blood. But then there’s guys like me who have had a stem cell transplant. My donor is not only my inner trophy wife, but it seems like she’s some kind of Amazon; running around, chasing down all my Y chromosomes until every single one of them is history. Read the rest of this entry »