Frightening times

There are a few other things almost as scary as prostate cancer, and included is American politics.



Movember, it’s real

Our BFF Jay Wilson has launched a Movember fundraising campaign to support prostate cancer research. That’s a topic that’s become very real, very fast in our household, so if you know a guy – or are one – get checked! Early detection and well informed treatment choice, that’s the way to go. Jay is raising much-needed funds for prostate cancer, testicular cancer, mental health and suicide prevention. Men die on average 6 years earlier than women. But together we can change that. If you want to support Jay’s quest for a bigger better Santa beard by the end of the month, here’s how. Donate via his Mo Space for all the dads, brothers, sons and mates in your life.

Separated at birth: our pal Jay, right, and my Rick, left. Not sure who those guys are bringing up the rear.


A coffeeshop favourite

The next time you’re in San Diego, do yourself a big favour and go to this funky little coffeeshop for breakfast. Lestat’s in Normal Heights (there are other locations, but we like this one best) is the perfect place for morning coffee, excellent breakfast sandwiches, and space to do a little work on your laptop. A great spot for editing articles to appear in the Winter issue of HOME magazine. There’s always an eclectic bunch of patrons so people watching is great! On our recent visit, we were treated to an hour of superb classical guitar by a man who comes for coffee and the practice space. Free concert!

Remembering Glen

Volunteers were out in full force raising money for cystic fibrosis so I stopped to say hi. My old pal Glen Moxon in New Zealand was the first person with CF I ever met. He was eight when lived with the family–that’s him building something in 1980. He had a twin brother Brent, and older sister Paula. I lived with the family on the farm and grew to love these little kids (that’s Glen and Brent a couple of years ago below), and I got over my squeamishness about pounding on Glen’s back every night to loosen the mucuous from his lungs. If I didn’t do it hard enough, he’d encourage me in a tiny little boy voice. “Go ahead, it’s all right! Give it a good go!” Glen lived far beyond his expected lifespan. He married, had two children. He fought CF and died defiantly. So when I stopped at the Shinerama booth, I told them about my friend Glen.