Happy holidays, all y'all!

Now rub my belly!

Tuna foot

Looks like tuna
tastes like feet

We just returned from a trip to the lovely island of St. John. It was our annual trip with my parents, and we all had a great time.

Even though my dad still doesn't understand a few key concepts that help make travel a lot more fun for everyone involved:

• Tipping
• Not walking out into moving traffic
• Tipping

When Barb told him he can't walk out into moving traffic, his immediate response was, "You can't!"

Meaning, neither could she. Technically, he was correct. But Barb wasn't the one stepping in front of moving vehicles. He was.

Doesn't matter.

To begin day two, our first full day on-island, we headed to one of my favorite beaches on the planet: Cinnamon Bay. Usually, it's a tranquil beach that's a great place to swim, snorkel, or just hang out in the water.

But on this particular day, there were some nice waves breaking over the reef on the west side of the beach. I could see some three-footers, so I informed my family that anyone looking for me would know where to find me for the next few hours.

Me being me, I was all jazzed up about the waves, so I was in a hurry. I don't wear anything on my feet when I don't have to, and on this fateful day, I finally paid the price. In my haste, I stubbed the bottom of my foot on a tree branch hidden in the sand.

The force of my gait meeting the branch ripped a gigantic slab of skin off the bottom of my foot.

As I raised my injured left foot a few inches from the sand to the planks of the beach shack where I would be renting a body board, I was surprised to find out that I was actually injured. As I sat and inspected said injury, watching blood ooze and coagulate with the help of a bunch of dirt and sand, I decided that my foot was officially "f*cked up."

Luckily, the dude who worked at the rental beach hut, Christian, was an EMT. He did a little impromptu surgery right then and there, slicing a giant chunk of skin off my foot with a razor blade.

"You're good to go. Let the ocean do its thing, brau," he told me as I headed off into the waves.

I was kinda pissed at the whole deal, but my guess is that nine out of 10 people who saw that injury would have recommended stitches. And that would have meant no swimming for the whole week.

Not an option.

So, it could have been worse. Much worse. I could have had stitches.

Or, you know, ordered the tuna foot sandwich.

Woo hoo! Back in the saddle, baby!

I want to ride my bicycle, bicycle, bicycle

Wow. That was a long three months.

But it's over. And I promise to be more careful. I swear. A lot. Maybe too f***ing much, but that's not the point.

So, while out on my first ride since wiping out so bad I needed surgery, I decided to take my second or third selfie ever. I was so excited, I sent the picture to my two favorite biking buddies – even though I haven't seen one of them in 20 years.

Not that he needs to get his *ss down here right now or anything like that. (Cough, cough. Turn. Cough. Cough.)

The other recipient of my wonderful selfie was my bike sensei, Jason. His response was awesome.

"Keep the rubber side down, my man," he said.

How true. Because the last time I was out on my bike – three f***ing months ago – the rubber side was above my head. Then below it. Then above it. And then below it again.

Then 10 feet away in a bush.

As I said, it was a wipeout. But that's all in the past, baby. Onward and upward! Because all that matter is that today, I was able to get back on my bike.

Therefore, I leave you with a what may become my tagline: Where your helmet.

This weather is for the birds!

At the end of our lunchtime walk, 

Cricket, Lula, and I  met up with some friends

I couldn't help it. I had to check what the temperature was in Chicago today. It was 21-degrees.

It was a little warmer here in Fairyville – 70 to be exact.

"This is mail man weather," my mail man told me.

He should know. 

So I guess it's mail man – or mail carrier, to be more inclusive - weather down here in the AVL. It's definitely not for the birds. I was being humorous.

During the holidays, I think it's best to come right out and state when you're being humorous. Even when people do get the joke. It just makes your life a lot easier on the back end.

Trust me on that one.