Hi, everybody, I'll make a proper post soon, but I've been in Puebla, Mexico for the last several days and haven't had internet access. And like the inconsiderate person I am, I didn't actually manage to find time to forewarn y'all that I was going. But I'm back at my mother's, and then it's back up to Turlock, and then I'll do the proper update. Everybody's safe and sound and well fed.
Puebla, by the way?
Fabulous.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Something different.
I don't drive, but a while back, I asked Chris if I could put the license plate cover I got from the blood bank (it says "2 gallon donor" on it, and the name of the blood bank) on Eddie Jetta. He was embarrassed and shy about it, because he's not a donor, himself, and felt bad about seeming to take credit for it, but after enough needling, I got him to put it on, for me. A little of why I wanted it up was probably just because I'm basically a crow who collects pretties, but mostly my case was that if someone saw it, who can donate and just doesn't tend to remember to, it might jog their memory and get them back out there. Maybe, you know? If it even happens once it's better than nothing.
Well. The most kind and wonderful thing happened to me, today.
We were out running errands, and leaving the supermarket, Chris noticed a little folded piece of paper on Eddie's window. When we stopped, he pulled it out and told me it was for me.
It said "Blood Donor" on the front.
Inside was this:
Our son is alive today because of people just like you. He had leukemia in 1993. He used about six quarts of blood while he was in the hospital. I've been putting little notes on cars ever since. He weighed 42 pounds then. Today he stands 6'2" and weighs 185. It is unlikely that he received any of your blood, but I'm sure that someone, somewhere is as grateful to you today as we were to those people in 1993. That person was not here today; I was. Thank you for donating blood. (Name and email appended.)
I have no filter, at the moment. Things have been kind of rough, you know? So I cried, and then I cried all the way back home. But things feel a little lighter, now. I just wanted to share.
...I needed that. What a beautiful thing to do.
Well. The most kind and wonderful thing happened to me, today.
We were out running errands, and leaving the supermarket, Chris noticed a little folded piece of paper on Eddie's window. When we stopped, he pulled it out and told me it was for me.
It said "Blood Donor" on the front.
Inside was this:
Our son is alive today because of people just like you. He had leukemia in 1993. He used about six quarts of blood while he was in the hospital. I've been putting little notes on cars ever since. He weighed 42 pounds then. Today he stands 6'2" and weighs 185. It is unlikely that he received any of your blood, but I'm sure that someone, somewhere is as grateful to you today as we were to those people in 1993. That person was not here today; I was. Thank you for donating blood. (Name and email appended.)
I have no filter, at the moment. Things have been kind of rough, you know? So I cried, and then I cried all the way back home. But things feel a little lighter, now. I just wanted to share.
...I needed that. What a beautiful thing to do.
Et tu, February?
Monday afternoon, while I was at work, Chris went and picked up our baby's ashes from the vet. It's... good, for closure. But it's hard.
Monday night, when I got to rehearsal, there was an announcement that one of the long time singers in the choirs, whom I was very fond of and have missed, because she hadn't been singing for the last two seasons owing to fighting cancer, passed away this weekend. She and her husband were wonderful to be around, kind, friendly, very sweet, and Chris and I ran into them around town fairly frequently. The last time I saw her was just before Christmas, and she really wasn't doing well. But I didn't think it would be the last time I would see her.
She will be very, very missed. I miss her a lot.
We also heard, that night, that one of our musicians in the symphony succumbed to cancer last week, too. I didn't know her personally, but most of the choir were very upset. I know she was very talented, and I know that concerts won't be the same without her.
I came home pretty bent out of shape. We stayed up late, watched some restorative silliness on TV, had a relatively calm time of it. Yesterday morning we got up and went and voted, been doing okay, considering. I went to work. I did a lot of work, it was nice, Lee kept me updated on the primaries, we had good music going, light. And when Chris picked me up, he let me know that our betta Sigfried, who hadn't eaten in almost two weeks and was very sick, died while I was away.
"Fuck." is just about all I can say.
This year is not off on the right foot, boys and girls. I've been hesitating to call it, because it can always get so, so much worse, but... I mean, really. Step it up, 2008. Spring, I'm looking at you.
Monday night, when I got to rehearsal, there was an announcement that one of the long time singers in the choirs, whom I was very fond of and have missed, because she hadn't been singing for the last two seasons owing to fighting cancer, passed away this weekend. She and her husband were wonderful to be around, kind, friendly, very sweet, and Chris and I ran into them around town fairly frequently. The last time I saw her was just before Christmas, and she really wasn't doing well. But I didn't think it would be the last time I would see her.
She will be very, very missed. I miss her a lot.
We also heard, that night, that one of our musicians in the symphony succumbed to cancer last week, too. I didn't know her personally, but most of the choir were very upset. I know she was very talented, and I know that concerts won't be the same without her.
I came home pretty bent out of shape. We stayed up late, watched some restorative silliness on TV, had a relatively calm time of it. Yesterday morning we got up and went and voted, been doing okay, considering. I went to work. I did a lot of work, it was nice, Lee kept me updated on the primaries, we had good music going, light. And when Chris picked me up, he let me know that our betta Sigfried, who hadn't eaten in almost two weeks and was very sick, died while I was away.
"Fuck." is just about all I can say.
This year is not off on the right foot, boys and girls. I've been hesitating to call it, because it can always get so, so much worse, but... I mean, really. Step it up, 2008. Spring, I'm looking at you.
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