For a $25 copay, it's pretty good entertainment.

Doctor: So, what's wrong?

Me: I've had really bad abdominal cramping for a few days.

Doctor: Ooh, could be kidney stones.

Me: Really? I mean, my kidneys don't hurt.

Doctor: Huh. Maybe bladder stones?

Me: Uhh...

Doctor: Does it burn when you pee?

Me: No.

Doctor: Have you had heavy bleeding in your stool?

Me: I would have mentioned either of those things before the cramping.

Doctor: Huh. Well, let's X-ray you and see if we can find those stones!

(After X-ray)

Doctor: Mm, no stones. Are you sure you haven't had heavy bleeding in your stool?

Me: Pretty sure.

Doctor: Well, if you notice it happen a few times...

Me: Shouldn't I be worried after the first time?

Doctor: Yeah. That would be bad.

Me: Wait, should I expect it to happen?

Doctor: Whew, I hope not. Do you ever eat so much that it might rupture your intestinal wall?

(Doctor looks at my 150-pound frame.)

Doctor: Probably not, huh?

Postscript:

I was eventually diagnosed with "abdominal cramping" and given pain pills and antibiotics, even though the doctor seemed vague about what he expected the antibiotics to kill.

To date, no heavy bleeding, and I feel much better. And I can't say I'll stop going to that doctor. He seems to call it like he sees it, which I appreciate. And strangely, there's never a wait.

All the freaks come out.

Here's a slideshow of choice pics from this year's Boo celebration in Birmingham. Most of our group went as marketing icons. I'll let you try to guess them all.




One highlight of the night was a friend saying that my gray beard made me look "10 years older." That would be 40. Jerk.

One joy I cannot be denied.

P1010004, originally uploaded by Griner.

My TV's broken and my Internet connection is failing every few minutes, but nothing can keep me from enjoying the first fire of the season.

Every reporter's dream.

Big congrats to my wonderful friend Angela, who has made it into The New York Times. I think she's either trying to dismantle her own chin or getting ready to play the harmonica.

Let's get ready to jumble!

So a few months back, Karen proposed a small yard sale to get rid of excess junk around the house. I personally didn't think we had enough to justify the work of a yard sale, but then my sister found a new house, effectively stocking us with a driveway full of pretty good stuff.

This past weekend was the yard sale. (Or as they say in the U.K., "jumble sale," which my British friend Cait wants me to popularize in America....although I didn't risk putting that on the signs.)

It was a somewhat epic amount of work, but the result was about $630 in profit. (We spent roughly $100 on the newspaper ad, signs and prizes for friends who helped set up).

The experience itself was great, too. I actually had a lot of fun. People were nice, and just about everything sold.

But if you ever find yourself wanting to host a garage/yard/jumble sale, let me share a few tips while they're fresh in my memory.

What we did right:

* Warned away early birds. We had a "No early birds" line in our ad, and we put a sign at the end of the driveway the night before. That seemed to keep people from knocking on our door at 5 a.m. (which I hear is a regular occurrence).

* Offered free coffee. It was easy to make and set out, and it seemed to make folks happy and encouraged them to stick around longer.

* Had HUGE signs. I borrowed some large sandwich boards from my agency and covered them with poster board that we had colored with markers. They ended up dwarfing every other pitiful yard sale sign. I know most people don't have access to these, but you should at least try to scrounge for something similar in size and effectiveness.

* Had a clothing rack. Last time we did a yard sale, we stacked clothes on a table. This time, thanks to a clothing rack we borrowed from Karen's office, they seemed to sell a lot better. They also obviously saved precious table space.

* Had lots of grocery bags and cardboard boxes on hand. The boxes proved especially useful.

* Priced low. Our goal was to move stuff, and we did. If you price low, you stand the best chance of getting rid of most things in the first hour. Be strong, and forget what you or your mother-in-law paid for that porcelain sauerkraut cooker or whatever.

* Priced simply. $1 for adult clothes. 50 cents for baby clothes. The only exception was $3 for jackets.

*Didn't have a cash box. We carried the money in fanny packs and dropped off large wads of cash inside when it started to get full. This eliminated the stress of watching a money box all day.

* Arranged tables by topic, not by price. This just seemed to help people find what they were looking for, then buy lots of it. It can be tempting to bunch by price, but it's pretty worthless.

* Played music. It made it a bit less creepy and easier for people to talk to each other about my stuff in front of me.

* Cut boxes in half to hold books. This was my personal accomplishment. We had tons of books, but I didn't just want them stacked messily on a table. So I cut some cardboard boxes horizontally, then sealed the top or bottom. Poof! Suddenly you have a bunch of shallow boxes that were perfect for books, CDs, etc.

What sold well:
* Tools. By far the big winner, especially power tools. Sold before we opened.
* Small appliances. (Be sure to have an outlet for people to test them.)
* Computer and video game peripherals.
* DVDs. (Thanks, Dad!)
* Books -- especially cookbooks and paperbacks (we charged 50 cents a piece).
* Holiday stuff. (October was a good month for that.)
* Bathroom stuff, aka "Health and Beauty." Everything sold but a comb.
* Furniture.
* Guns. I didn't have any, but people kept asking all day.

What didn't sell well:
* Reference books. Total waste of space, except the dictionary and the Bible.
* Board games.
* Flower pots. Didn't sell one (out of about 15).
* Coffee mugs.
* Candles.
* Slim clothes. (Although it was worth it to see the look on women's faces when they held up Karen's shirts.)

Well I hope all that helps you guys out if/when you decide to tackle one. I definitely think it was worth the effort, but it'll be a while before I have the energy to tackle it again.

If you find yourself waffling about whether to have one, just picture this little stash of pot-dealer cash:

More news from my childhood (kinda).

Sure, my mom is friends with a bunch of astronauts. She has been as long as I've known her. This in and of itself has never impressed me.

But back when I was a video game junkie (er, in my early days as a video game junkie), my mother found a way to truly impress me. I was reading an article about Richard Garriott, creator of the Ultima video game series, and it mentioned that his games always included a silver serpent medallion because he actually wore one every day. The only time he didn't wear it was when his father took it into space.

Wait a second, into space? I asked mom, and sure enough, she knew Richard's dad, astronaut Owen Garriott. Holy crap, I was one degree away from the guy who made my favorite game! OK, so maybe it was still two or three degrees, but still.

Mom sent me an e-mail the other day saying that Richard is finally living his dream and going up into space himself. Now the story's starting to pop up in my blog feeds. (The photo above comes from a New York Times story that mentions Richard also owns a Sputnik. Good for him.)

But what confused me was today's entry in Gadling, a travel blog I read daily. They never mention the fact that Richard Garriott was one of the first software millionaires. In fact, check out this bit from the blog post:

If the name Garriot sounds familiar, think Owen Garriot. Owen Garriot, is a retired NASA astronaut who spent time aboard Skylab and Spacelab-1 is his dad. Next year's trip will be the first time an American astronaut's kid has headed to space.

I don't know how much weight I should give that blog entry anyway, since it misspelled Garriott on all references. But even in the NYT story I linked to above, Richard is referred to in the headline as just a "Texas man."

So now I'm not sure whether to feel bad that I think of Richard as the far bigger celebrity, or feel good that my mom is friends with the dad. One thing is clear: I don't really come out ahead in either scenario. Maybe I'd feel better if I had my own Sputnik.

Hey Emily, take notes from a real poet.

As we pored through boxes for our upcoming yard sale (more on that soon), Karen and I dug up some real treats. One of my favorites was "The Write Stuff: 1987-1988," the literary magazine from my fifth-grade year.

I think it will become apparent in the following poem that I was an exceptionally gifted poet, and some of you might find yourself shocked or even angry at the fact that I didn't pursue this as a career. The experimental rhyme scheme, the nontraditional metaphor...I may have reached my creative peak at age 10.

Undertow

Once there was a little man
Sitting on the beach.
A big wave came along.
He was afraid.
It turned him white like bleach.

It sucked him out into the water
Taken away he was.
He was treading water poorly
When he asked himself
"Is this what a dolphin does?"

He was swimming rather well
When a whale nudged him in the leg.
He looked for something to hold on to
When he saw a keg.
So he laid on top of it.

Finally he came to a shore.
As he got to the beach of ice
He stated "Gah!"
He had started out in South America
And ended up in Canada.

Now, as pleased as I am with the work of child Griner, I have to say I was actually outdone by other kids in my school. Check out this opening line from a fourth-grader's short story:

One day a robot named E.L. Fudge found a crystal that breakdanced.

I'll just let you imagine the rest.