AV: Trees Falling in the Forest

I can't decide if it's more or less liberating that no one seems to be reading this blog. On the one hand, that almost makes it easier to write about the realities and vulnerabilities of daily life on planet earth.

On the other hand, how pathetic is that?

That said, I've always considered myself somewhat of an idealist although that seems to express itself more often as naivete. That, and idealism seems to be what I have energy for since cynicism is way more exhausting.

So ... here goes. Between posting stuff from YouTube, I've been knee-deep in the local campaign committee for the No on 8 effort. "8" being the number of the Proposition that will ban marriage in CA for gay and lesbian couples if it passes in November. I agreed to co-chair the local effort while the state campaign and steering committee plugs in and oils up the efforts in other cities all over the state. Heady stuff and lots of work ahead.

There's all the other politics too. City Council and Congress and State Assembly races and the perennial attacks on a woman's reproductive rights.

And next to me in the shadows of our bedroom, Aida is sleeping. She's a little restless as she tries to find a comfortable place ... some elusive spot on the bed that doesn't cause her joints to ache.

Last night she dreamed about her doctors, all three of them. I asked her what the dream was like and she simply said that they talked about things all night long. She said that she had gifts for them in the dream, but couldn't remember what they were when she woke.

She usually brings acorns.

Tomorrow morning - early- we meet with her oncologist (aka "Dr Cutie") for the monthly gabfest. He will ask her how she is and pay rapt attention to her, laughing at her jokes and loving her in his own doctorly way. He has no choice, really. She does that to people. You should meet her.

He will also ask if we've heard when she's scheduled for another treatment of the stereotactic radiosurgery. That horse nudged out of the barn about a month or so ago when her bi-monthly MRI showed another small tumor that had set up shop next to the one they treated in January.

We will tell him that we haven't heard yet. But, we will report that she had her pre-treatment MRI and mask fitting and that we're ready. Or rather, she is.

Last night another friend passed over. We wave to her from this side of the river, assuring her of a visit, but later. Later, Janelle, later. Just keep singing.