I went in for my third hernia surgery this week. I can't seem to get it through my head that I now have the body of a 65-year-old and not a 19-year-old. I think this last time, it was lifting two 20 kg. bags of water-softener salt (one under each arm and flanking each side of my own 20 kg. belly) that did me in. I just had a hernia repair done in the same spot 11 months. Last year, it was moving fallen trees from the trails at Cold Creek Wildlife and Nature Area that sent me hobbling to the good Doctor Lee. This year, he decided I couldn't be trusted to take care of myself so he stuck a hunk of mesh (the size of a catcher's mitt) in my belly to hold everything together...sort of like a super-hero shield protecting my innards. One again, I'm fearless and formidable, or I will be once the clutching at my tummy every time a cough, sneeze or burp, and the wimpering that follows, subsides. Sadly, one can't show-off or brag about eight puncture marks in one's abdomen the way one can about a fencing scar across the cheek. 'Tis a humbling experience and I look forward to venturing back out into the world soon, a gentler soul. There was a birth in the family this week and I have a new grand-nephew. His name is Jaxon. Now there is a name for you. 9 lbs. 11 ozs. and doing well.