Friends: My how time flies. I haven't touched base since last February and I apologize for that. I have been

                          so stable, and doing so well, that I haven't kept in touch.

                   September 28, 2021, was the third anniversary of my diagnosis. I remember the day well. I went

                          to the ER complaining of fatigue. I was told I had leukemia and promptly went into a rage,

                          proclaiming that leukemia was a hoax, and all I needed was a good strong dewormer. I was

                          sure their lab tests had miscounted my blood cells, and demanded a recount. I was convinced

                          that their lab equipment had been infected by a recent meteorite. It all seemed rational to me.

                  Now, three years later, I am still on the same chemotherapy, and doing very well. I still have one

                          week of infusions every 28 days, see the Nurse Practitioner monthly and my main oncologist

                          rarely. Not that I don't like the guy, but who wants to see a doctor when you feel well.

                 After the last post, I had my second vaccine. Several months later, I had my antibodies checked

                          twice.  Both tests showed no antibody levels. I am essentially unvaccinated. 

                 In the last post, I told you about Camp Cindola. Well, I major league goofed on that one. I

                          misspelled the names of the camp and camp director. It should have been CINDOLIA. How

                          can a missed "I" be so important?  I knew I was in trouble when  a porta-potty was moved

                          into the bedroom, and a deadbolt put on the door. The strong quarantine probably

                          saved me.

                 The Director and I do stay busy together: streaming TV,  doing jig saw puzzles, going on walks, and

                          doing yoga. Mostly, we argue about whether the cat should stay inside or go out. She is

                          a dedicated hunter, having virtually wiped out the animal population of NE Portland. Birds,

                          mice, rats, even a snake don't have a chance. I  want her to concentrate on Homeland Security

                          and not consider me a possible treat.

                 The 1937 Chrysler Airflow I worked on for three years has returned to its home. My

                          nephews and I continue to plug away on the 1929 Hudson. And I have a new project: a

                          1966 Porsche 912. These car projects keep me busy and make the lock down acceptable.

                   Without antibodies, I rarely go into any building. I do go out to eat, but always eat outside. Long

                            distance travel is out. I worry about getting close to anyone. Vaccinated people can still

                            carry and spread the virus. I think of my grandchildren as potential petrie dishes  because of

                            exposure at school.

                    As you can readily sense, I'm tired of dealing with this virus. I want it to go away. Nevertheless, 

                            I feel very fortunate and look forward to every day.