Last Tuesday Rachel had an endoscopy to find out more about what's been upsetting her stomach for the last six weeks and longer, and after a trip to the clinic, an IV (for her, not me) a camera-on-a-tube, and a doctor to take her picture so I could look at her from inside as well. Such a pretty duodenum.

I'll let Rachel tell the story but suffice it to say I'm happy that we could take the whole thing in good spirits.

Back when I was at Cal, I intended to sign up for one of the MRI calibration experiments, because I wanted to post a cross-section of my brain, but now I think this is even better.

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It's one thing to find someone cute in Trader Joe's or the subway, and wish you'd had the guts to go beyond eye contact, but it's quite another to spend more than a third of your life following someone around the world. (Probably fake. God I hope so.)

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Okay, okay, my bad. Rachel's birthday was Saturday, May first, May Day, Beltane, whatever you want to call it.

We had friends over and had a wonderful time in our backyard, our sanctuary, our hummingbird paradise. Rachel pulled off a wonderful party (I helped a little) and everyone had a great time. Rachel even went above and beyond and took some absolutely beautiful portraits of the guests as we spent hours talking, watching the hummingbirds scurry, the light fade, and the glow of food and fun continue on after bringing the party inside. Six hours never passed so quickly.

Happy birthday, Rachel! May this year be your best yet, and may you bask in the glow of all those who love you as I do. Okay, well not as I do but, you know, love you lots, too.

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Hot on the heels of releasing her photo site, Rachel (aka 'the grrlfriend') has finished construction of her weblog at phoenixfeather.net.

Cool design (getting cooler all the time), great photography, prose, and all the features Ben and Mena can churn out.

Of course she's also got an RSS feed, and I encourage all of you to subscribe. Rachel's turning into a more frequent personal blogger than I am, and if you read both, then we don't have to do double-duty posting on the same things, though I'm sure we sometimes will.

Go there now and read about our trip to Death Guild's 11th anniversary party, complete with photos of me dancing in the cage.

Yes, really. Go. Now.

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Because Rachel demands more Piggies:

Do you have any stories about Giant Pig?

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[Like the previous one, this is also Rachel's post. I'm hosting this for Rachel on my blog while she puts the finishing touches on her own. --KF]

A little calmer now, I have to think clearly about just how lucky I am. Kevin stayed home tonight from poker to comfort me. While he quite often seeks some time alone, I get that most of the day I feel a bit better if he is in the house. Just knowing that if i need him, he is there, helps so much. We watched a movie and pigged out just as those stressed and depressed should do. And I am thinking about my day a little more rashly now.

Yeah, I'm scared and unnerved about this unknown possibility right now. But we are very sure its not cancer; and its prolly nothing even that bad. Whatever it is, or isn't we will take care of it, and in the end I'm really lucky. Lucky it wasn't worse and lucky to have a wonderful, caring partner who helps me so very much.

[No, I didn't bribe her to say this. She's my sweetie.--KF]

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[This is Rachel's post. I'm hosting this for Rachel on my blog while she puts the finishing touches on her own. --KF]

So I don't talk to many people about most really personal things, I do talk a lot... there are just many things most people never hear from me. However I feel like I need to talk about this, for my own sake.

I had a normal gynecological exam about 3 weeks ago. Everything came back fine on all of my tests and I'm a healthy little girl. However during my breast exam the student who is also working with me found something. She showed it to the main doc and they discussed and talked with me and decided that it was interesting.

I should state that I have cystic breasts to begin with. I guess all that means is that in general there are really small beads or cysts that are normal for me and can be found all over within my breasts. They change size depending on fluids and the time of the month and when you touch them they are kind of rolly polly and all moveable and stuff. When they found this particular bump though it was much larger than the others. Deciding that since I was only one week away from my period which is a time when those things can be larger, they asked me to come in 10 days after my period to double check this particular bump.

So today I went back. I didn't have to do anything but get my breasts examined again. During the exams it was decided that the bump from the last time had not changed size. This bump does seem to be movable, which is good news since a cancerous lump is NOT movable, however it hadn't changed at all. The up news was that there seemed to be another bump which mirrored my first one. That bump hadn't been there the last time, but I am told that the fact that their is a mirror is a sign of normality.

Laying on a bed with a woman on each side of you both of them rubbing around on your breasts and discussing abnormalities is an uncomfortable and also kind of numbing experience. Both women are really nice, and I like seeing them very much, however that doesn't make the whole situation feel better. What was decided was that they just don't know what it is. They are nearly positive its not cancerous. Most other things (at least that they told me) found in breasts are benign. And the fact that I'm not yet 26 makes my risk of anything really low. However this little bump worries them enough that I have to go back in another month to have it looked at again. If at that point the bump is bigger or even the same size I will be having an ultra-sound on it. If it is smaller than all the other cysts in my body and we don't need to do anything.

As of yet I have not done any research since I only just came back from the doctors and wanted to get my thoughts down right now. They continually assured me there was nothing to worry about, however it seems odd to me that we are set on finding out what it is, if its nothing.

The other thing that hit me a little bit was that when deciding when to ultra-sound my doc said she felt okay waiting another month since I was so young. If there is nothing to worry about, even if I was older why would it matter if we wait a month? Maybe I am reading too much into this. I really don't think that they are lying to me or anything, I have to state again that I really like these doctors and feel comfortable talking to them. I'm just really not sure what to think and I feel like this is a touchy and scary area to have to think about.

I really and truly welcome any comments or discussion about mine or other similar situations from other women or men. I feel like maybe if I talk this out in a positive way with others, I will feel better.

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Saturday was the Firefly Farewell party. A little over a year after Fox cancelled the show, twelve of us got together and watched the three unaired episodes that were released with the DVD box-set of the first (and only) season.

Leave it to Fox to cancel a show that's popular enough to justify a DVD release, and to do it when there are still completed episodes in the can.

At any rate, the party was great. The episodes were teriffic. We're all hoping the rumors that Joss is writing a movie script for Firefly are true.

Before the party a handfull of us had a TiVo Upgrade Party, replete with a trip to Fry's and subsequent sortie to Radio Shack. Paul and Karen now have 139-hour TiVos where before they had only 14 hours. Quite a difference I imagine.

Me, I was planning on upping my 80-hour to 200 hours, but talking with Ammy and Rachel the night before, I realized that about 80% of the space on my current TiVo is being used to hold shows I want to save, some of them over a year old. If I upgraded to 200 hours, eventually I'd be in the same position, effectively having a 15-hour TiVo with an additional 185 hours of online saved content.

Rather than spend money to upgrade the TiVo as a stopgap, I decided to give a DVD-Recorder a try. With the ability to offload my shows to DVD, I could again have a true 80-hour TiVo, as well as a way to offload and distribute shows to those who missed them, like when the cast of The Simpsons was on Inside the Actor's Studio.

Much of yesterday was spent rewiring all the AV equipment in the living room (Cable box, TV, TiVo, DVD-R, VCR (Don't ask the obvious question, please. I'm a geek. That's why.), Stereo Receiver and 5.1 decoder, Playstation 2, Gamecube), and going to dinner with Rachel.

Rachel and I celebrated our 1-year anniversary yesterday. One year ago we met for the first time when she picked me up at the Pittsburgh airport, coming home from winter break. A year later and we're going stronger than ever, and celebrated this by having wonderful French cuisine at Cafe Brioche, capped by an absolutely amazing chocolate souffle and blackberry cobbler a la mode.

This week is going to be all about rearranging furniture upstairs and redefining mental spaces. In medieval europe it was customary for neighbors to periodically walk their borders together, to establish in their head exactly where they agreed one property ended and the other began. Forget about GPS; back then not even good fences made good neighbors, because fencing off a 500-acre plot was an unheard-of amount of labor just to define a boundary, hence the walking of the lines.

Every once in a while it's good to walk the lines in several areas of life. It's annual review time at work, a walking of the lines, a defining of workplace scopes and boundaries. 1099s and W-4s are flying through the mail, to help us walk the lines with our government. I want to make a point of spending more 1-on-1 time with my close friends, walking those lines, touring their properties to see how their mental estates have flourished since the last time.

But right now it's work time, and I've got to get to it.

Happy Monday!

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Three principles of sex that, even if you don't agree with them, will probably make you think.

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What's up with Kevin? Well, all my stuff is now in the new place, and I have boxes everywhere. I've been steadily unpacking, putting books willy-nilly into bookcase cubbies. Sorting by genre, author, and the rest can come after everything's out from the boxes.

Rachel, her mom, Ellie, and her cat, Nym, are in Yellowstone today, and should be getting to the Bay Area tomorrow evening. I'm trying to unpack as much as possible so they'll be able to relax when they get here. Nym's going to be fostered at Ammy and Rick's place until Rachel has a place of her own. Ammy's all excited about being a mom again, after Tigger passed away last year.

Meanwhile Google is a dream come true.

Oh, and somewhere in the move I lost a bracing strut for my bed, so I can't put it together yet. I'm going to IKEA today after work to see if I can get just the part, or what my other options are. 'Till then I think I'll be on the mattress when Rachel and Ellie arrive, so Ellie can have my guest bed, that I've been using up 'till now.

Let's see... What else? I'm treating Rachel to Waltz and Swing lessons by the incomparable Richard Powers. We're starting on Thursday, and they run every Thursday for 5 weeks.

Okay, that's my quick life update. More to come as it happens!

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I love hazel eyes. Rachel and I both have hazel eyes that change color under certain conditions. Yesterday hers were a pretty blue-to-green-to-brown, so I decided to take a picture.

After downloading it, I noticed that the mirror of her soul reflected me as well, so I submitted the picture to Heather's Mirror Project.

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I haven't been crying much recently but for the last week my eyes keep feeling tight around the corners, like I'd just finished.

I feel like I'm a nuclear core, with control rods to help stop a cascade of grief. The control rods can be work, a book, sleep, or for all last week the labor of going through dad's house, and making arrangements.

Being around family, I felt like the control rods were even more important because if any of us let go it would cascade to the others. We each grieve in our own way, and I've been worrying about letting mine out, because I don't want to make anyone else feel worse. I wish I could tell them that grieving is a good thing, and that my own expression of it shouldn't make anyone else feel worse. It's easier to hold it in like a balloon with a slow leak. I think about him in a thousand small ways, every minute, each time crying a little inside. It shames me that I even worry what other people think, that I'm worried about showing my pain too much, while at the same time worrying that I'm showing it too little.

I feel it, inside, and that's what tells me that I'm not a bad person.

Yet I still feel the compulsion to write this post. The irony's not lost...

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On the morning of my birthday, July 4th, my dad stayed up late writing me a letter. The letter touched me very deeply, and when I called him later that morning we shared a wonderful conversation, confiding how proud we each were with each other.

I told him how I bought two iSight cameras, one for each of us, so that despite being at opposite ends of the country we'd be able to see each other and talk like we were in the same room. He told me that he'd ordered a slew of multicolor-led Google pens, a few shirts, and baseball caps, in honor of my starting there next month.

We talked about our writings, about visiting me when I get my apartment in Mountain View, and about using both his and my frequent flier miles to get Rachel and me plane tickets to visit Los Angeles in the next couple weekends.

After the call, I went to a BBQ at a friend's new house, followed by tremendous fireworks in downtown Pittsburgh. My Dad went to a party at my uncle's house in Malibu, where he had a great day with family and friends, staying late and driving a friend home late that evening before returning to his own home.

Some time early in the following morning, July 5th, 2003, he suffered a severe heart attack and passed away at his home.

At the memorial service the following Friday, Susie and I were the last people to speak after my mom, grandfather, cousins Steve, Craig, and Jill, and Dad's brother, my Uncle Alan. After the service, a handful of people asked if I could send them the text of the eulogy I gave:

"The last time I spoke to David was last Friday, on my birthday. Earlier in the day he wrote me a letter, and gave me a gift more important than he could possibly have known. I'd like to read it to you:

To My Son Kevin on his 30th Birthday

It's 5 a.m. on your 30th Birthday and I'm still pondering what present to honor you with. My first present, very carefully selected with your mother's help, was your birth name – Kevin David Fox. Kevin because I wanted to do my best to provide you with a first name kids wouldn't be able to tease you about-- like they did to Dana Steven Fox who had to abandon Dana and retreat into Steven/Steve to escape. And because I wanted you to have a name that was substantial and more than ordinary, but not too unusual.

I'm not nearly as clear about why I held out for David. My deep sense is I somehow wanted you to know I would always do my best to be there with you and for you through all the scary and difficult times whenever and wherever they might envelope you.

Your plunge into sharing your "true voice" experiences on the verge of your 30th Birthday has inspired be to jump in after you. Here's a true voice poem I wrote five years ago.

Ordinary Terror

This morning I went to my appointment at the Department of Motor Vehicles to pick-up my personalized license plates. I didn't know why they were important to me.

While I waited for my name to be called, I was jarred by the appearance of scores of people without appointments waiting in dreary lines. They were on the short side and didn't stand out in any way. They were nothing more than ordinary, living out unremarkable lives.

Down deep I'm terrified of being ordinary. They seemed content.

The first time I felt the horror of ordinary gushing through my body came when I was seven. I was asleep in the basement room of our two-story up-side-down house when the cold water pipe hugging the ceiling above my bed burst at 3:00 a.m. I was frightened and confused. I screamed for mom and dad while I slapped at the light switch until the nightstand lamp snapped on.

The plumber arrived about an hour later. He was old and grizzly with knarled calloused hands, but he liked me. While he wrenched off the old lead pipes and wrenched on their shinny copper replacements, I asked him what it was like to be a plumber for a lifetime.

I was shocked by his answer. He said it was difficult for the first few years until he learned how to fix each different plumbing problem. But after that, he said it had been easy for the next 30 years because he just kept doing what he already knew how to do.

Right then I vowed never to be a plumber! To be doomed to a lifetime of fixing the same pipe problems over and over until I died with my knarled, calloused hands clutching my favorite wrench. How awful – how ordinary. He didn't seem to mind.

I'm walking toward my car with the desperate hope the personalized plates my hands are wrapped around will some how, some way shield me from the terror of ordinary, and open my pipeline to salvation.

David Fox     March, 1998

I feel much different today. If I write a new true voice poem the title that appeals to me is "Ordinary Joy." Further bulletins will follow in celebration of your 30th birth year.

I just grabbed "14,000 things to be happy about." off my bookshelf and opened it at random to pages 100-101: "...the intimacy of humor...flashlights that work...a bowl of tiny mandarin oranges...a breeze tiptoeing into the room, afraid to intrude...Timbuktu...opening stuck windows...steak fries...the splendor of fall...deep-set windowsills...electric morning coffee-maker...every seventh wave being a big one...the pleasure of water...V-formation of migrating geese...." And there are 13,984 more in Barbara Kipfer's book.

How many more known and yet to be known are there in my "book? or you book?" Could be bazillion, or even kabillion more! (I've been wanting to use bazillion and kabillion somehow somewhere for months, and now I have Ta Dah! (I've also been wanting to use Ta Dah!). This is such fun!

And thank you for adding a bunch from your book: "having the canola...the extra mile...following a dream...Winter's blankets of snow...cacophonous cicada...thundershowers before sunset...lush green grass...surreptitiously placing Easter eggs....the midnight moon...picnicking on the grass...following foot-deep footholes in the snow...fireflies flicking on and off, talking to each other...paper cut-outs...sneaking into IKEA...the last day of classes...snowscaped graveyards...dancing with abandon... ...all nighters...pockets...tandem skydiving...keyboards...cloverleaf intersections... kettle drums ...Mardi Gras beads...a kitten sleeping in your lap having mouse-chasing dreams........" and so many many more. What I am happiest about right now is you on your 30th Birthday – TAH DAH!!!!

Love, hugs and so much more,

Dad

Dad derived his greatest happiness from finding joy, and bringing that joy to those around him.

He loved the immediate pleasure of teaching people something new, whether it was cribbage or kite-flying, computing or how to cook the perfect quesadilla.

He passionately shared the photographs he took at every opportunity, pulling out his powerbook in any free moment to give a personal tour of China, the Galapagos, or just a day at the beach. He loved sharing the beauty he saw in the world and in everyone he met.

Most importantly, Dad found his deepest satisfaction in helping people realize and pursue their own dreams. When he and I chose the name for his company 12 years ago, David wanted to keep it as open-ended as possible, reflecting his mission of helping people achieve their own goals -- in this instance, occupational goals -- hence the name "Professional Advancement Success Systems" or "PASS."

To David, the meaning of life is in the journey.

Dad never expected anyone to follow in his footsteps, but he hoped that they would walk in the same direction -- following their ambitions and dreams, and helping others to do the same.

My dad was the most supportive person I've ever known and, even after his passing, he's still supporting us, as we -- each and every one of us -- has been bettered by the impact he's had on our lives.

The finest memorial we can give to David is to keep on walking in his life's direction, to keep finding the joy and the beauty in life every day, and doubling that joy by selflessly sharing it with everyone we touch in our own lives.

Thanks for reading. As I've mentioned before, I have a lot more to say, and I'll be putting together a site of some of his writings, photos, and memories. I'll be talking about it here as it progresses. If you're just visiting Fury and aren't a regular reader, email me and I'll drop you a return email when there's more about David.

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Hey guys. I've spent the last week caring for my father's things, caring for myself, and caring for my family. Though it still seems incredibly early, considering what needs to be done, I'm heading back to Pittsburgh on Saturday, my last 5 weeks of grad school suddenly turning into my last two weeks instead.

A small shining light is that the memorial service was lovely. The family really held it together, and Dad would have been proud of us. I'll be talking about him a lot for a while, so you all can get a good picture of the man I'm proud to call my father.

Tomorrow (err, in the morning, rather) I'll be posting the text of what I said at the service. There's still so much to go through, and to work through, but I'm incredibly thankful, both for the strong family we all have to lean on in this tragedy, and in the copious amounts of work I've been doing for the last week and a half, which has helped distract me from letting the wave hit full-force.

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Art will come later.

My father, David Henry Fox, passed away unexpectedly this morning. I'm going out to Los Angeles tomorrow morning (everything's completely booked tonight) and will be out there for a while. Further bulletins will definitely follow, but I probably won't be as responsive as usual. I should have email access while I'm out there.

Thanks. There's so much more that I want to say about my father, about my love for him, about a thousand things, but I can't right now. It will come later.

I love you, Dad.

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My uncle, a long-time writer and storyteller, has lately been writing phenomenal accounts of his life and emailing them to the family. Inspired by his courage to speak in his 'true voice' without concern of tempering accounts for his audience, I want to share a few items from my private journal.

My good friend and former lover, Caroline, passed away in a car accident four years ago, about six months before I started keeping a weblog. After coming back from the memorial service, I wrote a eulogy in my physical journal. Re-reading it tonight for the first time in years, its so relevant to my life now that I want to put it down here, both because it's a part of me, and because maybe it will strike a chord with someone else.

Sunday, March 28, 1999

Caroline K. O'Brien was killed in a car accident on Wednesday.

In the short time that I knew her, caroline taught me so much about the human condition, and how wonderful life could be. Only now, with her passing, am I beginning to realize the true scope of her gift.

Caroline was fearless. she would never hesitate to make the dangerous choice, and she had the self-reliance to drive forward where most would balk at fear of failure or fear of reprisal. What makes her truly beautiful is that this rare drive was joined by an equally rare love of those around her. She realized the true nature of happiness and strove to bring it out in others.

She was very smart, but she never held it against you. In love, Caroline followed the middle path: Never fear love; embrace it. Don't let it blind you, but let it fill you and those around you with joy.

I learned so much about love and life from Caroline. I've spent far more time over the last two years absorbing that knowledge into my own life than the time I was gifted with her presence.

Ben and I spent several hours talking on the road yesterday to and from the service. Talking with him helped me remember many of the lessons I forgot over time.

We all have a responsibility to embrace life. It's vital to steer clear of the empty side every day, however comfortable it may be. the life best lived is one filled with chances, experiences, glowing successes and poignant defeats. It's the self-reliance that allows a person to take a thousand chances a day, to be warmed by the successes and learn from the failures.

Nice is different than good, and both are essential. Live for yourself by living for others.

Consuetude should never be confused with contentment, and when routine and habit drive our actions we all die a little.

Life is a series of relations and intersections, and we grow wiser, stronger, and hopefully happier with every one.

Beware the feedback loop. Love and happiness can't survive in a sealed environment. If love is to lead your life, then it must always be fed with new experiences, risks, successes and failures brought to the table by both parties. Most importantly, never lose hold of the qualities that inspired love once love is achieved, because love is not a gateway or a finish line. It's a constant achievement to be won each day.

Do great things and small. Never be afraid of the extra mile. You'll find looking back that the outcome is always worth more than the opportunity cost, whether it's driving two hours to see a friend for dinner or leaving a job to follow a dream.

Thank you Caroline for all your teachings. I pray that I can live up to them in my own life every day, and inspire others as you inspire me.

I love you,
Kevin

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Rachel and I are heading up to Bloomfield, New York tomorrow (near Rochester) to visit her parents. We'll be hanging out for a few days, maybe helping out in their new restaurant, and generally doing the things there are to do up there, including hiking to the waterfalls, or possibly bike riding along the Erie canal.

Sunday we're heading back south, but jagging right at Lake Erie, staying the night in Sandusky, Ohio, and getting up early Monday morning to take on Cedar Point, home of the tallest (420ft), fastest (120mph) roller coaster on the planet, the Dragster. [or, um, not. still, we won't be hurting, considering the 15 other thrill coasters they have at the park].

I don't know how much I'll be posting this weekend, but I'll try to take pictures. I hope everyone has a great weekend! Beat the heat any way you can!

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Love is opening your backpack and finding that your girlfriend snuck in a ziploc bag of chocolate chip cookies before she left for school in the morning.

I'm pretty lucky.

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