Raf

It's not a squirrel. It's Dale (as in Chip and Dale)

Amen.

Well, it's now officially expected to miss us. That is, it's highly unlikely this thing will provide Florida with any real rain.

What we need is a significant rain event. The way this system is passing us, it will only be a mildly significant wind event, which, aside from specatcular kite flying, makes it pretty useless for us.

Some major television "event" films are acceptable. For example, I'd exclude "Sarah Plain and Tall," but I'd include something like "Roots" or "The Winds of War." I once dated someone who was an extra in The Mirror Has Two Faces. Don't think she was in anything else though, so linking is kind of out of the question. Jeff Bridges Starman Karen Allen

Diana informs us she will be visiting Orlando the weekend after Thanksgiving. I'm making arrangements to head up there with Christine (my wife) at that time so we can spend time with her. It's odd, honestly, because science and experience tell me this is the last time I will see her looking like herself. This is one of the great challenges of life: appreciating today for what today is, even when you "know" that tomorrow will be so much worse. In all reality, I don't know how to handle it. How will she respond to tears, which are sure to be shed during her visit (other family will be there as well)? What would you do or say?

We're bracing as though the storm will hit us in South Florida, though forecasters as of this moment are not expecting it.

Why yes, yes it is.

The full results are in. I's dotted. T's crossed. They are now expressing no doubt whatsoever that my sister does have ALS. Lord I believe; help thou my unbelief.

"Well, that's very nice. I'm glad. Well here's... here's the point, Andie. I'm not particularly concerned with whether or not you like me, because I live to like you and... and I can't like you anymore. So... so when you're feeling real low and... and dirty, don't look to me to pump you back up 'cause... 'cause... 'cause maybe for the first time in your life I WON'T BE THERE!"

Here's the link to an online version of scrabble. Play against each other or strangers. http://ryan.buterbaugh.org/wabble/

Yup. Ok... ummm.... "Blaine? His name is Blaine? That's a major appliance, that's not a name!"

Well, they're still checking and testing, crossing t's and dotting i's. But the second opinion evaluation has it at 95% certain that Diana does indeed have ALS. It's a lot to absorb. We're all out of tears. How do we make these remaining years "quality"? That, or a miracle, is all we have left. I refuse to rule out either.

Twister

"On Golden Pond" was correct for mine. I think I know Lifted's, but will wait another hour or two before I answer.

I'll keep providing updates as I get them. Thanks for all your prayers.

Just got off the phone with Diana. She's in relatively good spirits right now. Worried, obviously. Spent the whole weekend in tears, but woke up today determined to get on with her life, whether there's a year or two left or 20. There's really no knowing. Stephen Hawking has lived with this disease for decades, which is highly unusual, of course. And look what it's done to him. But we're hopeful. We haven't yet gotten to the second opinion stage, so that's the next step. It's pretty scary.

Rob and Diana never met. Several years ago, Rob was a newspaper columnist in South Florida. A good man. A Bronx native. We shared memories of our hometown. But Rob missed his adoptive home, Des Moines, Iowa, and decided after a too-short stint in South Florida that he and his wife, Rehka, should return. So they did. They were back in Des Moines for, again, a relatively short time when Rob wrote a powerful and moving column. It was about a visit to the doctor. Many visits, actually. But on this particular visit Rob was told what had been revealed through all the tests of his previous visits. He was diagnosed with a disease called ALS. Lou Gehrig's disease. The illness that cut short a legendary baseball career, a legendary life. Rob was no fool. He knew he had only a few years to live, at most. Once you're diagnosed, life expectancy is two to five years for the majority of victims. The lucky ones live 10 years. The really lucky ones can live as long as 20 years. In a miniscule few, the symptoms reverse. Rob prayed to be the exception, but planned to be the rule. He loved his wife and children, gave them the best effort he could. He wrote about his struggles. He couldn't possibly return all the e-mails and phone calls he received encouraging him to fight on, including mine. He gave his time to the people closest to him. And he gave his time to the cause of studying and possibly someday curing ALS. Rob died in 2006, less than two years after his diagnosis. He was a brave and wonderful man. I wish he had met Diana. Diana was also born in New York. She was a personal trainer, a fitness nut. She's always been one of the most blunt, outspoken members of her family. On Friday, September 28, Diana was diagnosed with ALS. She called her sister, Julie, to break the news. Julie called their mother, Julia. Julia called her son, Diana's brother... me. Please pray. [Thread title changed by request]

Sorry: been stunningly busy lately. Hmm.... "So, I heard you turned 80 today." "Is that what you heard?" "Yeah. Man, that's really old." "You should meet my father." "Your father's still alive?" "No, but you should meet him." *** "A canoe! Just like the Indians used." "Actually, the Indians used a different grade of aluminium."

Policing your thoughts is a lonelier job than repairing Maytags. We debate historical issues in terms of what caused them and what effect they had. We don't debate whether they took place, especially when we know they did.

Because you are. And those who aren't are gullible to the point of shocking stupidity.

Ah, this one I know. Quiz Show

Tom knows.

Oh, COOL set of clues! Tom, you got it. Spill it!

I still like "Shut the front door!" It's a great expression because when you say it, it sounds like you're about to say something else. ;)