Right this minute I’m glad I decided to quit earning my living as a writer. ‘Cause if I were still A Writer, there’d be no excuse for the wordlessness that currently grips me.
No longer being a Capital-W Writer, I’ll start with pictures. Photographs of a Box O’ Goodies that arrived a couple of days ago:
Somebody — the name starts with C. — has a terrific memory. In addition to flower seeds and shoe treatments good enough to withstand the Northwet’s wettest, C has been observing conversations here on the blog and at the Cabal and saving stuff to send me: U.S. military P-38 can openers for the bug-out bag; a key chain utility knife/bottle opener; vents to improve government-ruined gas cans; and my very favorite of the bunch …
That one speaks for itself, doesn’t it?
It’s been a wondrous week of gifts. And this came at a time when I was asking nothing, expecting nothing. When the smallest thing would have surprised and pleased me, I found myself receiving something grand every day.
Sometime the gifts were material, sometimes not.
I went to the place I jokingly call the Big City with my dear neighbor J. She was picking up a rental car and needed me to drive her vehicle back to a repair shop here in town. When it comes to neighborliness, I’m in J’s debt and was glad to restore a bit of balance.
On the drive up I told her about the icon-painting workshop, and how it was all coming together thanks to D. kicking it off and J. and B. pitching in with equally wild-n-crazy donations for it. Every difficulty, I told her, was quickly getting solved. Except for somehow getting a ride to the only place I could catch a bus on a weekend. From our tiny berg, there is NO way to get out of town on a Saturday or Sunday (the two days I need to travel, of course) except private car, bicycle, or on foot. Even though we’re talking an almost two-hour commitment to get me to the nearest weekend bus, then the same on the return leg, she looked at me as if I was slightly dim and said, “Well, that’s not a problem. I’ll take you.”
And speaking of the icon class, I said I’d come up with the funds on my own, but apparently not when I have you guys around to take care of matters. In poured donations from M, S,, and J. (different J. than above). M ordered that I not spend all of his contribution in one place, so I put 2/3 of it into the class fund and ordered art supplies with most of the rest.
Around then came the biggest gobsmack of all. I checked my bitcoin wallet — and found a new addition: 1/4 of a bitcoin. If that doesn’t sound princely to you, you haven’t been watching bitcoin’s rise since G. dared me into accepting his BC donation in last year’s fundraiser. What’s more, I have absolutely no idea who gave it. (UPDATE: I learned who did it. Thank you again, G!)
(Now I just have to figure out how to turn that BC into something the monastery will accept; B, all my emails to you are bouncing. Could you send me an alternate addy?)
Three people also re-upped their Cabal memberships, too, and while those payments go toward taking care of Cabal business, they were most welcome.
Oh, and last but hardly least, there’s this:
Tom Knapp of Rational Review News contacted me to say that yet another anonymous donor, who buys the top banner at RRN every year and fills it with a rotating array of “good causes,” had chosen Living Freedom to be in the rotation. Thank you, Tom, for suggesting LF. And thank you Anonymous Gentleperson, for taking us on.
So you can see that every time I turned around this week, something wonderful flung itself at me. Or more accurately, was flung at me by wonderful people.
Damn, I am having an awfully hard time maintaining my status as a cynic, a pessimist, and a depressive. You people are completely ruining my reputation.
And I thank you all.