I got bored with figuring out the nonsensical sets of instructions for the bookcase and the end table I needed to put together, so I simply scheduled a visit from a tasker on TaskRabbit. Someone named Leah showed up Sunday afternoon, and in less than an hour, Leah had assembled both pieces of furniture—while Suzanne and I sat on our butts and streamed the latest episode of Dateline. That’s Leah in the background of the photo, assembling my end table on the kitchen island. Notice I didn’t Christmas-up my Bow Tie o’ the Day or any of my other attire for her visit. I have found it is best to not weird-out visitors at our house on their first visit. If Leah comes back to task for us in the future, I will surely pull out all the clash fashion stops. I will dress as myself.
Sunday marked 15 years since my Dad’s death. I woke up thinking of Dad hunting coyotes every morning before showing up at the counter at Top’s Cafe for his morning cup o’ coffee. I quickly made a playlist of songs Dad liked and sent it to my siblings. The playlist was full of only country music, of course.
On a less serious side, Saturday I watched a vet show on Animal Planet. A pig was being treated for something-or-other. It was kinda cute, in a muddy-fat-pig sort of way, but I was dismayed that the poor critter had a forgettable name—which I have forgotten. But it got me to pondering about what name I would come up with as a more interesting name for a pig. I went right to Hamilton or Hamlet. Or Piggy Lee. But I also like Sir Francis Bacon for a pig name. Or maybe I’d go simple and just name my pig Kevin, as in Kevin Bacon.
I can’t believe it’s been 15 years since your dad died. My hope for you is healing old wounds, inviting joy, and gaining peace.