Everything was going along swimmingly until last Friday but I’ll get to that later.

I have every reason to be happy.

Today Susan and I are going to my cousin Tracy Burtz’ art show.

Tomorrow  my niece Cheryl and her two girls  are coming to visit and we’ll laugh and hug.

My sister is coming next week to celebrate Julie’s birthday.

And biggest of all I’m having 11 sleepover guests from Israel for Thanksgiving. That’s right my nephew Yitz is bringing 9 of his kids and one of his grandchildren plus most of the rest of my family is coming to my house for the holiday.

I will be feeding 40 people a strictly kosher dinner this Thanksgiving. Every where I look I will see someone I love.

You’d think I’d be happy and I was until last Friday when I farted in physical therapy.

This isn’t the first fart set back I’ve had in my life. If you recall in the fifth grade I sneezed and farted at the same time in assembly sitting between Richard Sheslow and David Gillis.

Maybe that was worse. But this was no picnic.

I was alone on the table doing my stretches when it happened.

My therapist Ricky, remember I told you he was my new friend (well that ship has sailed), pretended he didn’t hear but all hopes of that being true left when the woman he was working on turned sharply to look at me .

I just looked around whistling hoping that she thought it was just a sour note but I could tell that she didn’t buy it.

I mean she didn’t hold her nose with one hand and use her other hand to whisk the air around her away but she did furrow her brow.

Anyway there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m not looking forward to going back to PT. I hope that woman isn’t there. Not that I would recognize her. I think I blacked out when it happened.

Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ll get over this. After all I got over that sneeze/fart thing in only 62 years.

At least I thought I did.