Saturday Night's Alright

It's hard to write this post, and not for the usual reason. The culprit tonight isn't cancer, or emotional drain, or anything to do with Grady or Pablo. It's Chris Rock and his new HBO concert special 'Kill The Messenger.' I turned it on, and, at the same time, being a full-blown multi-tasking addict, I reached for my laptop to write while laughing.

I figured the show would take a few minutes to get up to speed, and that I could crank out a quick blog entry before the fun kicked in. I was wrong. 10 minutes in, I had written exactly zero words. Chris' rapid-fire commentary on everything from safari guides to Sarah Palin (the only diff is that one kills the animals) had me doubled over from the opening line. 15 minutes in, I turned it off. It felt great to laugh. It'll feel even better to do it with Jo Ann. She's going to join me after she puts Pablo down for the night. Then we'll get into some serious business up in here.

Earlier this evening, I went for a bike ride with Peter. Afterward, Jo Ann and the boys met for dinner at Michelangelo, a neighborhood staple that recently relocated from Silverlake Boulevard to Rowena Boulevard, a few minutes from our house, at the end of the reservoir. Grady's been going to this spot since it opened in '97. Pablo's been hitting it since the '0-3. We haven't been there since they moved. The food was better than ever, and the new location looks and feels great. We're happy for the three brothers who own it—they lost their lease and, last time we saw them, were on the verge of shutting for good. It's cool to see the good guys persevere. Pablo at spaghetti and meatballs and a slice of bread. He ate well, and, so far, has kept it down.

This afternoon, Cassiel came over for a play date. He and P had a fun-filled day while his mom Tracy and Jo Ann chatted and made lunch. It was wonderful to see Pablo hanging with someone his own age. The sight and sound of him and Cass running around and interacting on a five-year-old level warmed my heart. Sometimes, the saddest part of P having cancer is how it keeps him away from his lifelong play and recreation routines and locales. Kids are the best playmates for other kids, and parks and schoolyards are the best location for the play. But there's a spanner in the works: kids carry germs that could be seriously bad news for P's compromised immune system. So Jo Ann carefully planned this play date; she verified and re-verified with Dr M that it was OK for the date to happen.

All week, Pablo asked Jo Ann about the status of the play date. 'Did you call Cassiel's mommy?' 'Did Cassiel's mommy call back yet?' 'Is today Saturday?'

When Saturday eventually did turn up, Jo Ann made the final call to keep the date. Just yesterday Pablo had a blood transfusion, so the germ thing is not, like, a theoretical risk. With radiation and chemo rocking simultaneously, Pablo's white blood cell count is slipping and sliding all over the place. We were happy that it worked it. Most important, Pablo had a killer time.

Grady, Pablo and Jo Ann slept in the parental bed last night. No, not because I was in the Fred Flintstone dawg house. Because I was feeling a tiny bit funky on Friday, and did not want to mess around with passing it to Pablo. There's a bug going around my office, and I was sure it'd hit me. With a lot of rest, and a lot of water, I've been able to keep it at bay. I feel a ton better than I did 24 hours ago. Let's hope that trend increases.

That's the news from our house. Let's go out on a good note: