Confusion and delight

If you read this blog regularly, you may have noticed that I didn't post anything for the last couple of days. The reason for this is that the pervasive "junk" I have referred to on a number of previous occasions finally caught up with me. I have been a little sick--though fortunately not incapacitated--since Tuesday afternoon or so. As a result, I bowed out of my normal evening activities for Tuesday and Wednesday (namely, knitting group and neighborhood fellowship) in an attempt to get extra rest and not have to cancel any babysitting jobs or recording sessions.

The plan seems to have worked, as I was able to get through the long day today and am still feeling pretty good at this point--though I'm going to need to take more decongestant shortly. But it was hard to bail on my NFG peeps--I felt really sad while I was lying in bed yestereve, knowing they were all partying without me.

I got home from my day of babysitting and helping with the Kidtown consignment sale about half an hour ago, and was surprised and befuddled to see something sitting on top of the recycling bin out back of my house when I pulled up:


Closer inspection revealed a bottle of Gatorade and two individually-wrapped cinnamon rolls:



Huh?

Well, what I didn't see upon first glance was that there was also a handmade "Get Well" card which had blown onto the pavement behind the bin. It was all a lovely gift from my lovely friends to let me know I was loved and missed.

I doubt I would feel so rich if I had won the Mega-Millions Jackpot.

The aforementioned consignment sale is a fundraiser for the children's ministry at church, and has a bunch of kids' clothes, toys, some furniture, and other assorted kids-related items. It is being held at the home of my friends Hal and Tiffany.

As we were packing up for the evening, their three-year old, Sawyer, latched onto a cash register in among the toys. It has a handset for a loudspeaker attached to it, which Sawyer was using as a phone. I explained that it was there for the cashier to use to call the manager for help, and I demonstrated, "I need change on aisle 3." He found this quite humorous.

Anyway, Sawyer continued to be fascinated with the cash register for the next 20 minutes or so, as we packed things away in the garage for tomorrow. Just before I was getting ready to leave, I heard him say (into the handset, of course), "I need to get the manager. Miss Lynn needs help."

True dat--double true. So thanks to all my many helpers out there--my family, friends, bringers of Gatorade and callers of Managers . . . many much heartfelt thanks to you.