Thank you

The last thing my dad did before he died was build a bench on the lower deck and rock wall that he built during the last year of his life - a year during which he was definitely not supposed to be among us at all. And yet inexplicably was.



As you may or may not be able to see, he got out his soldering iron? Is that the implement? Anyway he inscribed the bench with the words "Rest ye and thankful be."

A day or two after he finished that bench and ran electricity down there to light the place at night, he went to the hospital, and the rest is history (June and July archives).

Thank you to everyone who donated yesterday:

Avitable
Martin
Daisy
LAS
Coal Miner's Granddaughter
Maggie
Matt
Woodrow
Five Husbands
Julie
Annie
One Pink Geek (are you blogless? I'd like to link to you).
Dagny
Nicoleantoinette
Maryse (are you blogless? I'd like to link to you).
Rich
Mr. Bingley
P

If I missed you, shame on me. Comment and I'll fix it.

Since I am on the subject of shame, I should keep talking about it. I felt itchy and uncomfortable all day yesterday and every time I got another donation I felt a little itchier. The reason is that I suffer from one fault or another in regard to that there paypal button. It's either pride - being too pigheaded to accept help when I need it - or shame, ie feeling the wrongness of getting into other people's pockets over my problems. I am also a little (a lot) ashamed of smearing all the family business all over the internet - even though my blog is anonymous. Who needs to hear this? And who, exactly, should feel sorry for me? I don't cancer for the third time and little kids to look after. I don't have wonky kidneys and, uh, limited time. Nor am I living with the heartbreak of infertility and its unfun treatments and anxiety and hopes raised only to be dashed again for no apparent reason. I could list others who have it worse than I do. I am sure you could, too.

Which is why I now say this to you: In a few months, after I move out of here and into a my friend's parents' place, my stuff will start working out fine again, and when it does, you'll get the money you sent me back. I know a bunch of you will say "Pshaw! I don't want it back! Just write more hateful sarcasm to entertain me and we'll call it even." Well... I can see why you might say that and I can see myself saying the same thing in your situation, but, well.

What I am asking is for you to help me twice by being cool about it when I paypal you back. I won't feel right unless I do, and even if you all hadn't saved my ass yesterday, I would still have, on the credit side, a great dad and great friends, too, both real and in the computer. And am I thankful for that? Hell, yes.


Fo those of you who have never seen pictures of he lower deck, rock wall and pergola my dad built in the last miracle year of his life - well, these are the most recent I can find. I am sure there are better, as all the finish work was done before he ever built the bench.





Have a good Sunday.