…folds its tent here in Gilbert, Arizona tonight. Since being diagnosed with prostate cancer back in May, the tour bus has gone from Arizona to Atlanta, east to Massachusetts for Goodboys week, back again to Atlanta for a brief stay before jetting off to India for a week, followed by the “treasure hunt” weekends in San Diego and, most recently, Carmel Valley.

In between we’ve hoisted a few dreams, the Red Sox dropped out of contention, Barack Obama’s poll numbers look as bad as Daisuke Matsuzaka does after being given a lead, Rob’s annual countdown to the start of football season is down to a couple of fingers, and throughout, the pool has stayed anywhere between 86 and 94 degrees. With the exception of losing our rabbit Ginger, it’s been a fun whirwind tour.

But all good things must come to an end – in my case, literally – as my end is getting a whole lot of attention tonight in preparation for my surgery tomorrow. The insides are getting cleaned out, I’m on a clear liquid diet for the next 3-5 days (in itself not a bad thing, I can lose the five pounds I’ve been wanting to!), and tomorrow promises to be rather stressful and highly unpleasant.

The streak of years without any hospital stay or surgery ends at 54 years, 11 months. How lucky can one be?

Anyways, I’ll be kept overnight tomorrow and then, assuming all goes well, recuperating here at the hacienda by noon on Thursday. Until then, thanks for all your kind thoughts and prayers. I’ll tell you all about when I’m back – at least what I can remember, that is. Don’t worry, no gory details – wouldn’t want to scare the kids.

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Pool temp: 88 degrees