April Winchell

Hallelujah. I have risen.

I am walking around again, making only minimal grunting sounds. I even drove today, and have resumed peeing while seated. Good times, good times.

Many thanks to all of you who have sent me get well wishes and annoying e-postcards with bad music. I also appreciate the many remedies you've sent for back relief, my favorite being that I should crawl around the house all day on my hands and knees. Like I wasn't doing that already.

Don't think I've been doing nothing all week but watching Trading Spaces (though I have mostly been doing that. I'm not going to lie). I have been utilizing this down time productively, scouring Ebay for interesting recordings that I thought you might enjoy. And man, have I scored. Wait til you hear what I have been amassing over this last week and a half. You will never listen to Ira Fistell again.

BUT THAT'S NOT ALL!

I have a lovely show planned for you this weekend. My special guest will be none other than my mother, who got rave reviews from you all when she visited the show last Mother's Day.

Now, lest you think this will be some dry and dull hour where I have to be on my best behavior, keep in mind that my mother was a showgirl, an actress, and remains an all around pistol. I plan on asking her lots of personal questions about her affairs with Paul Anka, Richard Dawson and Joey Bishop. I mean, come on. If that was your mom, wouldn't you want to ask?

Before you start feeling bad, you should know that my mother has already threatened to sell embarassing photos of me on Ebay. So it's a pretty even playing field here.