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Another Blogger’s Sad Day

Watch the local news, I said, while I do my blog post.  Then we’ll watch something else together.  Oh am I sorry I ever did that.  I cannot do a silly Friday Lame Post now.  I don’t know if I can do a coherent blog post at all.  But you know me, I’m going to type in something and I’ll probably make a joke or two, however inappropriate they may feel.

The lead story on WKTV News was a house fire in Herkimer, NY (where I live) in which three children died.  What a terrible tragedy.  The next story was also about a fire.  No people died, but before I could feel any relief about that, I heard that the pets were lost.   That was when Steven changed the channel and put it on Snapped: Killer Couples.  It’s not my favorite, but it is less depressing.

Well, here is a topic for some half-baked philosophy, in which I often indulge on Lame Post Friday.  Why is murder less depressing than accidental death?  The murder victim is rarely asking for it, in any sense of the expression.  In fact, sometimes I feel very sad about the person who dies.  But it feels more remote.  It feels like I’m only hearing a story, especially on what I call the re-enactment-fests.  Still, it is a true story.

OK, Steven just got fed up with Killer Couples and especially with the Previews of Even More Disturbing Coming Attractions.  He put it on Judge Mathis.  I guess we’re both still pretty perturbed.  Full disclosure:  I’ve been feeling down all week, and I have no reason to feel down, so I am not looking for sympathy, go ahead and play that miniature violin for me.  But I am going to wrap up one of my most blah posts ever.  I’ll hope for a better day tomorrow.


R.I.P. Spunky

What a cutie!

Our sweet pooch, Spunky, left us this morning.  He woke up when Steven came downstairs, then he laid back down, fell asleep and never woke up.  We petted him, and watched him breathe, but we pretty much knew he was dying.  I am too sad to make a blog post about it, but I thought I could share a few pictures of Spunkman, as Steven liked to call him.

The first picture was our first view of him, posted on Facebook by the Velvet Dog, who was fostering him when his first owner died.  He was just as cute in person.

One of many beds Spunky adopted.

The basket was given to me by my sister, Cheryl, to keep ongoing knitting or crochet projects in.  That is an unfinished afghan Spunky is getting comfy on in this picture.  I had to admit, the basket was a perfect size for him.  I took out my unfinished projects and made an afghan for Spunky to sleep on in the basket.  Now I suppose I can have it back.  Spunky had several places he liked to snooze:  on the end of the couch on an afghan, on my clothes I left lying around.  Um,  I mean, I never leave my clothes lying around.


Doesn’t he look comfy?

And here is one more picture, just to make it three.  I loved my little Spunky.  I hope there is a doggy heaven and that Spunky is there now.  And if people heaven is different from doggy heaven, I’d rather go to the doggy one (oh yeah, right, like I think I’m going to heaven).  Good-bye, little doggy friend.


A More Serious Post

I can’t call this Wrist to Forehead Sunday, but I am too sad to write to write a proper post. I logged onto Facebook this morning to learn of a man’s suicide.

The man was not exactly a friend of mine, not even a Facebook friend. We were acquainted via a group (I shan’t mention which group, because I feel I should omit any potentially identifying details) which I enjoy very much. I would read his posts and comments with interest, and I always felt flattered when he would Like a comment I made. He was Facebook friends with my husband; they were in two groups together. He would sometimes comment on or Like Steven’s posts.

I just feel so unspeakably sad that this person I never physically met is not longer on the planet. I feel even more sad that it seems to be such a preventable death. Having struggled for many years with depression myself, I understand despair. I understand how difficult it can be to reach out for help. I can’t say I understand what this person was going through, because of course I don’t.

It is clear I have nothing wise and insightful to say. However, I will publish this anyways, because this is important. Suicide is a tragic waste of life. I don’t know what I can do about it, but I would like to figure out something.

At Least My Afghan Will Help

Hands up, anybody who thought today was not going to be a Tired Tuesday post. Keep your hands up while I ask for hands up all of you who are disappointed.

In my defense, I’m sad. This is a totally fun blog (see subhead). I can’t write about being sad. For another reason, I have nothing wise and insightful to say. And I don’t want to come across as if I’m saying, “Look how compassionate and thoughtful I am, feeling all sad and stuff. I’m deep.” “Yeah,” my readers will say, “something is getting deep around here.”

But I will share the reason for my sadness. A few days ago at work I noticed a flier about one of those fundraisers for a cancer patient. This was for the wife of a co-worker. I don’t really know the co-worker and have never met his wife, but when I see one of these fliers, if they have contact information, I like to donate an afghan for the Chinese auction (these fundraisers almost always include a Chinese auction).

Regular readers will know I make afghans regularly as I watch TV, which I may or may not watch too much of (don’t judge). Sometimes they pile up, and I like to donate them. The flier I saw mentioned two names of heat treat workers I know (heat treat is a department at my work). I approached the one on day shift, she gracefully accepted my offer, and I brought the afghan in today. Anyone who saw it said it was pretty.

Shortly after lunch, we heard that the co-worker’s wife had died. I don’t think anybody realized how short her time was, perhaps not even the doctors. We were all sad. Four different people told me the poor woman had died. I would rather that than not being told, but I felt more sad each time.

The fundraiser will still be held, because there are still expenses to be defrayed. My contribution will help with those, so I am glad I brought the afghan in. But I am sad and have nothing profound to say about it. But here is my Tired Tuesday blog post.