Heard his tinkling banjo and his voice so grand, but you must come to Belgium to shake the tattooed hand

I had my first solid bowel movement on Sunday. I almost wept. The army that had occupied my body had pretty much retreated by Saturday afternoon. I had slept through most of the night so when I awoke that morning I was hopeful recovery was in sight. It was, but not before a final battle that was biblical in proportion.

Being one of the warmer and sunniest days we'd seen in a long time, I eagerly accepted Foley's offer to go for a walk that morning, albeit with a warning that it may be a short one due to my...ahem...condition. I met him at the Diesel Cafe and from there we walked the bike path through Cambridge and into Arlington. I was feeling good and glad to be out in the fresh air. I had practiced yoga beforehand and by the time we reached Spy Pond in Arlington, I suggested we head back. I was starting to feel fatigued and I could feel light gurgling in my stomach.

Foley suggested we first walk the loop that skirted the pond. I agreed as it was only about 100 ft away and I wanted to see if anyone had fallen through the ice. If so, I would have been a hero and saved them all. Anyway, as we approached the halfway mark of the loop, Foley said "Is that Mara"?

It was. I knew, despite the fact that she was facing the pond and twenty feet away, it was her. My first impulse was to say it wasn't because I needed to get back to home base, son, and, considering I hadn't seen or talked to Mara in close to a year, there was no way it was going to be a quick hi how are you. I was parched; the first of many icy beverage fantasies overtook me.

"It is Mara!", Foley said. He called her name and she turned around. She had been taking pictures of the pond. Our reunion was kind of awkward but not as squirmy as it could have been; after all, I had more pressing concerns. Mara revealed that she had moved from Somerville to a new place up the hill from the pond about a year ago.

The three of us hit Main St. so I could get a beverage and Mara a coffee. I bought an Orangina at a trendy sub shop and polished it off within a couple of minutes. I was thankful Foley was carrying the bulk of the conversation; while I was happy to see Mara, I just wanted to go home and go to bed. We walked her back to her place after she got her coffee and hung out there for about a half hour. As we left, Mara hugged me for a long time. We made plans to get together after her trip to Florida.

On the way back, my stomach was gurgling more insistently and by the halfway mark, I was ready to burst. If Foley hadn't been with me, I probably would have shit myself or gone insane trying not to. Foley's an optimistic and mellow guy, which helped. What also helped was having someone to talk to. Again I was thankful for Foley's conversation.

In Davis Sq. we parted ways. On our walk, Foley had received a call from his mom telling him his grandmother was soon to pass. I wish I could have been more supportive- I did my best - but our goodbye was brief. I barely made it home. When I arrived I had the worst bout of diarrhea yet. I counted ten successive trips to the bathroom before it was through. The ordeal lasted over two hours.

I was spent already from the walk, but after it was all said and done, I could barely move. I lay in bed under a pile of blankets and the only clarity of thought I had had to do with beverage fantasies. I fell asleep for a spell and when I awoke I heated up some leftover lentil soup I had bought from Whole Foods. I crumbled up some saltines in it and ate ever so slowly.

Not long afterward I felt better. I was so dehydrated, it would be another day and a half until my next pee. I drank two liters of water at work on Monday and didn't have to pee until three hours later. Took a lot out of me, that bug.

But I feel better and that is good. Over the last couple of nights I've been watching The Godfather and its sequel. Two of the greatest films ever made. And I've been reading the autobiography of a satanic ritual abuse victim whilst also re-reading Eckhart Tolle's The Power of Now and that cool book about our relationship with dogs, The Other End of The Leash. You can call me what you want, but you can't say my tastes aren't varied.

Oh, one thing I forgot to mention about Saturday. I had woken up that morning and fell back asleep and had a dream about running into Mara. All I remember from the dream is that she looked fuller in the face. Seeing her not two hours later, though not fuller in the face, was kind of eerie. Last night I had a dream the details I won't share because they might be too revealing, but it culminated with finding myself in the arms of a woman that seemed like she belonged with me. We were among students in a building in either Boston or New York. My recollection is unclear, but she hugged me hard and laughed. It felt good.

Alight, off with you, rascals!