As summer gives way to “Back to School” sales and parental celebrations, I figure it’s time to kick my blog back into action.

I have LOTS of cool stuff planned and some of the ideas leave my wife in tears. (Tears of laughter, of course. I’m not out to try and make anyone sad).

But first, for both of my loyal and concerned fans, let’s take a quick look at just TEN of the things I’ve been up to all summer. Not only will it clue you in to the reasons behind my absence, but it will also help set the stage for some of the stories to come.

1. I gained my Freshman Fifteen. 20 years late.
I was a beanpole back in high school and college. No matter what I tried I couldn’t gain weight because my metabolism was completely out of control. Had I been able to bottle it, I would have become an overnight bazillionaire. Finally, at the tender age of 39, I’ve managed to unlock the secret. The strategy is simple: Increased pizza and ice cream consumption combined with a sedentary lifestyle. Who would have thought? My “Hip Hop Abs” fundraiser challenge couldn’t come at a better time.

2. I bought camera lenses on eBay with reckless abandon.
Without knowing what all the nifty little numbers and acronyms meant, I blew hundreds of dollars on camera lenses I still don’t understand. And accomplished little more than a cramped camera bag.

Although I must say that my expanding grasp of the “F Stop” led to this gem:

3. I learned that swimsuits + saltwater + sand = walking bowlegged.
The progression is simple: While body surfing, sand and broken seashells will become trapped in your swimsuit’s netting. Like a rock polisher, the salt, sand, and shells go to work on your inner thighs…gnawing and grinding away at the skin. The more you walk, swim, or crawl, the more red and irritated your skin will become. There is no escape unless you’re air lifted from the beach and it won’t be long before you’re walking like it’s high noon in a bad Western. For days.

4. I drove the reliable car to Ohio and it cost me $4,500.
Never, I repeat never, suggest that you take your “reliable” car on vacation. By the time you finish uttering those words, little gremlins are already hard at work under the hood wreaking havoc on parts that must be ordered from Nepal. The cunning creatures they are, the breakdown won’t occur until you’re at the furthest point in your trip. On Friday afternoon. Before a holiday weekend. 3,500 miles outside the factory warranty.

5. I almost bought a church.
Well, not a real church. At least, not in its current state. It used to be a church way back in the 1800′s. Today, it’s a quaint little garden shop in New Bern that would make the best ice cream store ever…”Heavenly Ice”. I loved the name so much that I actually toured the place and tried to imagine where all the celebrities would sit. I came to my senses when I realized that just having a name for your new ice cream store isn’t enough. Apparently, you also need a business plan, some inventory, and work ethic. Sounds hard. Plus I know my family would eat all the profits.

6. I was diagnosed with skin cancer.
Nothing screams comedy like “melanoma” but I had it right on my cheek. Not on my rear end, but on this purty lil’ noggin’ of mine. They used a sling blade, some folks call it a kaiser blade but I call it a sling blade, and hacked away at it until I had a nice gash. Six stitches later and I was Al Pacino in Scarface. Without the Cuban accent. Or the yayo. I was happy to get the call that the margins were clear and that the cancer was gone, but sheesh, that was kind of a downer.

7. I discovered new muscles in my back.
You can accomplish this too. Just find yourself an air mattress with an undetectable leak and then fall asleep on the mattress when it’s as firm as possible. Do NOT attempt this alone because you’ll need an able-bodied person (and possibly a crane) to extract your body from the deflated plastic surrounding you by morning. It’s around this time that you should be nice and sore in areas you didn’t even know existed. Just FYI, you may want to pre-arrange a masseuse who’s comfortable working with Icy Hot.

8. We bought a house.
When we left Texas for reasons not limited to heat, sun, ginormous bugs, flesh-eating spiders, human-seeking fire ants, painful grass, desert, and cactus, we decided to move to North Carolina. It’s lovely here but we realized that we just didn’t move far enough north. We missed New York too much. So, during a “let’s just look and see what’s out there but not buy anything” trip, we bought a house. It’s in the heart of the Finger Lakes, which is wine country in central New York, and we can’t wait to get there. Although it does mean we’re packing to move for the second time in seven months. At least this time it’s permanent.

9. I hired our movers at a hot dog stand.
Nothing builds confidence like meeting a guy at a roadside hot dog joint to hand over $150 as a deposit on your upcoming move. They are scheduled to be here next Friday to load our trucks. I say “scheduled” because I half think I’ll be loading the trucks myself. Perhaps I’m worrying for nothing because he did give me a receipt…albeit scribbled in pen on a piece of scrap paper.

It reads simply: “Received $150 for September 3 move.”

Man, I hope they show. If they don’t, I’ll never trust a nameless mover at a hot dog stand again.

10. I rediscovered my passion for blogging.
Part of me was close to turning in my virtual pen. It was depressing to go from hundreds of comments on a grand slam post to crickets the very next day. I like to know that people read what I write, for that’s what motivates me to continue. But it got discouraging when I thought I was writing to no one.

Alas, in my travels and through conversation, I realized just how many people read my blog, enjoy it, and simply don’t comment. I realized that I needed to stop obsessing over comments and just write because I love to do so.

To those who comment, thank you, you are my fuel. To those who don’t, it’s cool, we can still be friends. Just let me know every now and then that you’re still lurking in the darkness. I love stalkers.

See you tomorrow.

Wow. It feels good to say that.

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Because I habitually #FAIL at sun protection my body has seen more than its fair share of sunburns. Some were so bad that I awoke fused to my sheets when the Aloe Vera gel dried. It’s not pretty when you’re pried from the bed by your wife and see a life-sized layer of skin where you once were.

Gross.

I got better at avoiding UV radiation around the age of 37 but that did nothing to offset the damage already done.

I knew about the dangers of sun spots and skin cancer but I believed the doctor could just make short work of it with a razor blade and you’d be out the door.

My wife has been begging me to get some spots checked for the last year but I always scoffed at her concern because I’m invincible. To get some peace for me and some peace of mind for her, I ultimately went in to get sliced up and have some spots checked. Fortunately, they all came back as “abnormal in shape”, but benign. Just as I expected, Supergreg lives.

When I read about the untimely and unfortunate passing of Coach Bill Cowher’s wife to skin cancer, it rattled me. Hard. I genuinely had no idea you could die from it. I thought it was all topical and more of a visual ailment. But her death drew me to the internet like a moth to a flame and I soon realized that I hadn’t taken the threat, or my wife’s concern, seriously.

Not until I visited SkinCancer.org did I realize that skin cancer could kill me. Baffled that something so easily removed could lead to death, I read further, and discovered that left untreated, skin cancer can hijack a ride on the lymph node train and migrate to other parts of the body.

Last week, scared out of my wits by Mrs. Cowher’s story, I decided to go in for another check. Even with the insecurity of having a bandage on my face, I asked to have a suspicious spot on my cheek analyzed. It took about 30 seconds for the doctor to chisel out a sample for the lab, and I was out the door in minutes.

About 30 minutes ago I got a call from the office telling me that the spot I was certain was nothing, was in fact, a Melanoma. As per the Skin Cancer organization’s website, melanoma is the most dangerous form of skin cancer, and it can lead to serious illness and/or death.

Clearly, I’m not invincible, and I have no doubt in my mind that my wife and the passing of Mrs. Cowher, saved my life. At least from skin cancer.

Maybe not in the sense that I would have been dead next week, next year, or even in ten years had it not been for them, but melanomas can, have, and do often turn deadly. Had it not been caught early, who knows what the outcome would have been.

I’ve always known “Melanoma” to be a bad thing, but no more will I be all, “Yeah, but it’s only skin cancer”. Contrary to my prior belief that skin cancer wasn’t a bad-a$$ enough cancer to worry about, it is. And I don’t care where melanoma is located…inside or out…it can kill.

As for me, they think I’ll be 100% fine. It was caught early and it’ll be removed at my appointment a week from Monday. I’ll have a few stitches from the incision as they’ll be diggin’ in to make sure it’s totally gone. Then, a nervous week while I await test results for what I’m confident will be an “all clear” diagnosis.

If nothing else. And I don’t care about Facebook links, tweets, or even comments at this point. If you do nothing else, please read these skin cancer facts.

And if you want to gain MAJOR karma? Check yourself out next time you’re in the shower or admiring your physique in the mirror (like I often do). If you spot something, make an appointment with your doctor or a dermatologist. In mere minutes you’ll either have peace of mind or in-time treatment for something that could manifest itself.

Not sure what to look for? Check this out…there’s even some cartoonish nudity in it for you. If you’re into that kind of thing. Which I’m not. Just sayin’. Extra motivation.

I want you around for a LONG time because I clearly can’t risk losing any readers. But if you do stop reading my blog, I’d rather it be because you hate me, and not because of a preventable tragedy.

Get checked. Tomorrow.

Or I’ll sic my wife on ya.

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