Where do I begin?

Trish and Jon left a few minutes ago. Jon had been exposed to someone who had whooping cough so we visited across the distance of their pickup bed. Visiting across a pickup bed is probably considered close in some circles, but Jon and Trish are more than friends so the hugs we didn't share with each other will come later.

I was expecting them, so when their phone call woke me from a nap, I wasn't caught off guard. What did surprise me after I hung up, was the gurgling rumble from deep in my bowels, a sound like the ominous growl of the Balrog approaching Frodo, et. al, deep in the mines of Moria. And to carry the metaphor a bit farther, as soon as Jon and Trish were across the bridge, the Balrog attacked. The battle is still joined at this point but going in slo-mo unless I have to scramble up to the bathroom. The special effects are still colorful in slo-mo but with time to see what is really happening the overall impression is not very interesting.

Some of you may have read about the citzens of Roidsburg, in a comment on the previous post. For those of you following their efforts to establish a political entity I am happy to tell you the heat of their movement has begun to fade. The inevitable reminders of their presence remains. The cleanup is proceeding slowly; the sanguine stain they left upon that which they hoped to claim, lingers. I just hope the cleanup efforts do not tax my energy too much.

Today is gray. The sky is almost bright with a textureless blanket of cloud. The air is humid from last night's rain and the lack of real heat is welcome. The garden is waiting as fast as it can for sunlight and heat. The squash blossoms glow like bright yellow tissue paper flowers waiting for the party to begin. The beans and cucumbers stretch their imagination into nascent bean and pickles. The beets tops are busy recovering from having their tops trimmed by deer a few weeks ago. Chances are good that this year we will have produce to harvest from our garden. And this year, we'll be here to take advantage of the opportunity.

This week we anticipate getting a tentative date for surgery. I talked to Maddog's nurse, Katie, and she said they would look for an opening somewhere between the sixth and eighth week after the end of my current radiation/chemo regime. My intellect wrestles with the concept of time, sometimes thinking that surgery is just around the corner and othertimes, thinking surgery is far away in a reality that belongs to someone else. Maybe this is just due to the state I am in this afternoon, a kind of shuffling old man existing in an interminably long gray day, lacking energy and ambition, tethered reluctantly by biological necessity to bed and bathroom.

Pretty soon Karen will be home. This afternoon the LLF of the LLA will be celebrating the 50th birthday of the General Secretary of Personal Improvement and Karen went in to help the Generalissima with the decorating. I am not sure I will attend. I know the gala will be fun. I am just not sure how much fun I can stand, (or sit for). But, maybe with enough coffee first and skipping to desert right away, I can go for a little while.

So, where do I begin? Right now there is no beginning, yet we are locked in the middle of something. How we got here is memory and where we are going remains to be seen. Enjoy your weekend, spend time together in peace and loving kindness. My best to you all.
Peace,
Mike