In March, we decided it was time that we went somewhere.  

We dithered over destination for a while.  Los Angeles?  We really like it, we have friends there, and we sort of know our way around.  Mr. escapee said wistfully "England?".  

England?  Wow.  Expensive.  What would we do there?  See gardens.  Lots and lots of famous gardens.  Sissinghurst.  We could see Sissinghurst!  And Knole!  And all the other ones we Googled, and...yeah! England!

We decided on England, set a budget, called the travel agent, and on June 11, we climbed onto Virgin Atlantic and flew off.  

Sorry, no Clinton, no Obama in this diary.  No rules violations, no entitlement or lack thereof.  Just an hour's quick shopping on a Sunday morning in a small city in a small state.  

This has been such a terrible week here on Earth.  The numbers of people who need help are staggering, and if you're like me, you tend to wave your arms and dither and then go find something absorbing to read.  You just don't feel like there's anything you can do.

I hope I've fooled you all into thinking I'm a serious person.  I'm not.  Maybe the fact that I always have a handy picture of Mr. Spock or hockey players or just about anything else worshipable told some of you that my first home on the intertubes was in fandoms: Star Trek, X-Files, lots of others.  

I've been in fandom communities of all kinds, mostly centering around fan fiction.  And I've seen what's happening at DKos so many times, and I HATE IT.  I HATE WANK.

I managed to sneak past 50, and past 51.  But the stories posted by nyceve and drchelo and others convinced me that I was being childish, so I called my doctor and said "Hey, um...I need a colonoscopy."

"So you do!" he said, and scheduled one.

And here I am, with it all over, thank heaven!  I thought I'd share my experience, because I am the biggest chicken on Earth, and if I can do it, so can you.

This stems from BiPM's poll on C & J on Thursday morning.  

I'm an only child myself.  I've had a hard couple of years since 2002: my mom's cancer, her death, my uncle's struggles with diabetes and heart disease, his death, my cousin's struggles with losing his job, trying to get a job with health insurance, and his suicide...bad stuff.

I've never longed so much for a sibling.  Somebody, anybody, to help me carry the burdens of executing wills and paying bills and trying to fill in emotionally for the absent ones.

I don't want to specifically identify the community where I just spent a beautiful week.  I love it, and I want to go back there.  I'll just keep calling it Undisclosed Location, New Jersey.  

As much as I love it, there are some problems there.

I don't know if this is an appropriate subject for a diary.  Oh, well.  I don't know any other way to thank all the C&Jers, and friends and well-wishers who have offered their mental support to my uncle.

He died this morning.

So I got up this morning and found this masterpiece in my in-box from someone identifying himself as 'Christopher Fubar':

Escape,

I happen to notice your signature when you comment on DailyKos.com. It
reads, as you know,* "Republicans are poor losers and worse winners." - My
grandmother, sometime in the early 1960s*
**
Liberals are the real sore losers consider these:

When I was a teenager, there was a lot of racial trouble in the local schools.  I got set on one day, and when I recovered, my mother put me into a local private school.  I think I received a much better education than I would have in any public school.  We cobbled the tuition together out of guilting my natural father into sending money, a few Daily Doubles my grandfather hit, work-study, grants, and loans.