It’s been a funny summer.

 In February I went to LA and pulled out my back.  I woke up. I yawned. I stretched.  The two kind of overlapped.  Then it was, uh oh, here we go. 

Kathy had arranged to meet a friend at a burger place at Venice Beach, so we went early and I popped into a Chinese deep tissue massage stall I found on the Ocean Front walk. I’m not sure I’d recommend it (it’s the one near the muscle guys, not the more expensive upstairs place that requires an appointment).  I pretty much cried my way through a 20 minute session. The guy actually placed the tip of his elbow between my vertebrae and pushed down on his fist in like he was staking a tent.

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