Few things in life are as important as a good bunch of guys to run around with. More important still are the ones willing to partake in a friendly game of head-shaving. No sooner than I sounded the ol' "my hair's falling out" whistle, these guys were looking like a bunch of hairless rats. God bless them all.

Aside from finally looking like a cancer patient, nothing much has transpired over the last few days...aside from a random camping trip to North Carolina's Smokey Mountains. As Amber and I met a friend for dinner last Friday, our table discussion led to the notion that we should go camping. Within two hours of paying our tab, we were off! Spontaneity is a virtue not to be overlooked. As is randomness. Such trips are always the most memorable, even if they don't always go as planned.

Long story short, we ended up staying in a hotel as our campsite began to resemble a lake...and our fire-pit a bathtub.

My second round of treatments began on Tuesday. Since then, the word of the day...or week...has been nausea. Although I am nestled beneath a plethora of anti-nausea medication, the power of one's subconcious is a force uncontrolled by artificial means. The sights and smells of the infusion center are enough to send my nerves into overdrive. As it has been explained to, this is some sort of an evolutionary characteristic designed to remind of unpleasant stimuli or responses. The theory of evolution has just shot itself in the foot.

Backtracking a bit to a previous post, I'm sure you're all wondering about the aforementioned critter that my wife and I have come to adopt...

Following my treatment this past Tuesday, Amber and I found a TINY little kitten in the grass next to our house. Perhaps "tiny" isn't a fitting adjective. What we found was a two-week old kitten. It's eyes barely open, he was struggling to move all alone in the grass. His likenes is similar to that of a small black mouse. Not ones to abandon helpless critters, we picked him up and made a pitstop at the emergency veterinarian clinic. Following a brief discussion with the staff, we decided his best chance of survival was in a box...at our house. For almost three days, we have been bottle feeding the un-named critter every two-hours 'round the clock. Such is the life of kitten adoption I suppose.