Tomorrow's the third round of chemo

Yesterday evening, about this time, Lila called me. She had a busy day scheduled today, including an interview with the person who will be taking her place at school in the Fall. And an appointment with one or another of the doctors in whose care she is.

Her weekend was, apparently, wonderful. She and an old buddy spent Saturday schmoozing. They go back to grad school, I think, 20 years or more. There was a pool party in her honor at the School pool on Sunday. She thought maybe there were more than a hundred people there, including her admired and beloved Doctoral advisor whom she hadn't seen in years. "He pointed me to Heidegger," she said, which said it all. (There really IS no such thing as an outside joke, I think.) The old school chum arranged the reunion.

I told her I coulda slipped into the crowd and gone un-noticed...until I kidnapped her, anyway, and spirited her away in my pick-up truck with my pit-bull companion, Budreau (pronounced "bud-roe") on the seat by the window. That mighta been noticed. But what the heck?

One of her kids, the trombone player (ST), is auditioning for a killer, once-in-a-lifetime, gig in Las Vegas. If he gets it, he'd be moving. It's the kind of gig that, if he got it, he'd probably be setting himself for life as a working musician, and a trombonist at that... He's really talented. She's enormously proud of him. I've heard recordings, and seen vids; he's good. I actually remember when he got interested in jazz trombone, about 10 years ago. Through Lila, I sent him some Kai Winding/JJ Johnson recordings.

Once again, I'm sorta stalling, hoping she'll have the chance to call tonight. Two hours earlier, there than here, and she's got chemo tomorrow, and she's been busy today, and is probably pooped, after a long, fun, but tiring weekend, and I guess my chances are at less than 30% that I'll hear from her til after her chemo, tomorrow. And I should probably be glad, ceteris paribus, that she had so much energy for me yesterday. Her appointment for the administration of the chemo's at 8:30. But she's gotta buncha prep to do. Last session, iirc, she hadda be there around 6:30. Which means getting up and moving by, what, 5?

Good night, my dear one. Bide in my love.