It is not infrequent that we are questioned on what we are drinking, smoking, sniffing, or even injecting when we write the newsletter. We are necessarily sure how to interpret this, so we take it as either a concern for our mental well-being (in that case - thank you, we are doing great); or as a compliment (Thank you from the bottom of our hearts, the opportunity to communicate with you regularly is nothing we take lightly). Anyway, this is a glimpse into the typical writing process. I'm sure you understand this information is between you and me (no wives, cops, competing cardiologists aspiring to write barely sensible newsletters would need to know we discussed this). If you have no interest, I'm sorry for what I am about to bore you with.
Wednesday or Thursday evening
8:30: Tuck the kids in bed. Tell them I love them and make sure they brushed their teeth.
8:30-9:00: Hang out upstairs with my beautiful wife, Krissy watching TV.
9:00: Remind Krissy that I'm a very important doctor and I will now be retiring to my study. She laughs in my face, rolls over, and falls asleep. The study is my safe haven where I can enjoy my pipe (blows over 300 bubbles a minute), sit in my rich mahogany chair under the antique grandfather clock (we don't have either) and read this week's New England Journal of Medicine. That's where she THINKS I'm going. Heeheehee...
9:03-9:05: Approximately 3-5 minutes later, Mudge, my standard poodle, jumps off the bed and comes downstairs (he usually waits a few minutes so it doesn't appear that we are leaving together.)
9:05: At this point, I'm preparing in the garage. I've removed the top from my Jeep Wrangler, loaded 2 chilled Diet Mt. Dews into the appropiate cup-holders, and put my favorite Hendrix CD in, Band of Gypsys**.
When Mudge arrives, he assumes his spot in the passenger seat and I assist him with his leather cap and aviator goggles (he's old school). Then we take off on Mission Newsletter! Rain or shine. I say this because this past week it was 33 degrees and pouring rain (again top OFF). A lap or two at 75 mph (sorry officer) around I-270 in these conditions can be a very effective process.
Sure we've gotten a look or two, but this method definitely gets the cobwebs out - clears the sinuses.
10:00-10:30: Anyway, after that we come home, and I have some hot chocolate. Mudge is not allowed to have chocolate, he has Sanka (a little instant decaf goes a long ways with him). We grab the MacBook, type up our thoughts, watch WipeOut on DVR, I put Mudge's retainer in and we go to bed. That's our routine. Really couldn't be more simple.
**Mudge prefers Kanye (he knows Gold Digger word for word). I'm not as big a fan since the whole Taylor Swift thing, but, I have to admit it's so cute when he's singing with his goggles on. ("She went to the doctor got lipo with ya money; She walkin around lookin like Michael with ya money"). Cracks me up!
