Dear Clare, Part V

Dear Clare;

I decided to ask my mom some questions. I needed specifics. Just knowing that you were in the house and that there was a press of people around you wasn't enough for me anymore. I wanted some blanks filled in so that my mental picture of what is happening was more detailed.

"So who all is there?"

"Everybody," mom said emphatically.  "Well, (your cousin) M might be out the grandkids keeping them busy and Cindy is going to take them canoeing later today."

I smile at this. There's something comforting in the idea that your grand children are still doing the things kids do during the summer in Iowa. Swimming pools, river runs, anything to keep them busy. This sounds like something you'd do.

"Her hospital bed is exactly where her recliner was," my mom said, filling in some more blanks.

"Right in the center of the living room?" I ask.

"Yep, so she's still overlooking everyone from her perch and so she can see her roses."

"That's absolutely perfect," I say, tears running down my cheek. It's definitely not what I had imagined, but its better in ways I didn't expect. You're not in a back room, hidden away, you are right in the middle of the action like you always have been.

I remember you sitting in your chair, pictures of your grandchildren just above you, watching people walk in and out, giving commands and directing your grandchildren, rolling your eyes as the boys brought out the tinker toys again and started building contraptions.  I remember you hiding the tinker toys at one point, putting an end to the shenanigans. It's exactly where you should be.

Your body is working hard now, too hard it sounds like. Every breathe is a small victory, however labored. Mom said that its blood fighting blood right now. That sounds familiar.

I made arrangements to come to you. I'm bringing my daughter. I want her to experience the house, to run around with all her cousins in your yard and walk through your garden. Mom says your strawberry patch is picked over, but there are plenty of raspberries that we can pick and she can eat. Also, I'm promised rhubarb cobbler. I can not wait to get there.

That may be wrong, to be excited to be at someone's funeral, but I don't think you'd see it that way. In fact, I sort of wonder if you didn't plan it this way. That sounds horrible to say, but I think its true. To have everyone under your roof on a fine summer day, with your garden in bloom, and all of your grandchildren playing out in the yard, to celebrate you sounds just like you.

I wish you peace today.

Love;

Tylia

Dear Aunt Clare, Part IV

Dear Clare;

Things keep changing quicker than I can keep up with them. Every phone call is something new. In fact there were two different updates, only an hour apart from each other that let me know how quickly things have escalated.

First, mom left a message that said everything was the same from yesterday and not an hour later, dad called and said your breathing patterns have changed and so your days have just dwindled to hours. I kept saying okay in a stern fashion over the phone to my dad and he said "Damn it Tylia I'm trying to ramble here and you aren't letting me."

I guess that's our different coping mechanisms at work. I'm full steam ahead in this sort of situation and my dad needs to ramble, to work his way however slowly to what he's feeling, what he may be doing.

I haven't called my mom yet to find out exactly what's going on with you. I don't know why. It sounds like, with hospice and everybody around, my call would get in the way. Also, by making that call, I'd be making plans like you're already gone and I can't do that. Chris says to wait until I get the call, the final call, before I do anything, like make plans to get to Iowa. He's right.

I don't know what room in the house you are in, because god there are so many. I think its your bedroom, or that room you use as the office right next to it. I somehow imagine the room bathed in a gentle light  and all of the assembled family looking on at you as your basking in it. I hope that's a close approximation for what's going on right now. I hope you're content and I hope that all of them, and I do mean every single one of them, are there to meet you on the other side.

I hope its the family reunion I've always imagined it to be. I use to imagine heaven as a big bowling ally with a bar where my uncles would all drink, cuss and carry on together. I have no idea why, but that's what I dreamed up when I was nine. Now I hope its a big porch over looking a beautiful garden and an incredible yard like you have at your house and the sun is perpetually setting and everyone just sits on the porch and relaxes, taking turns holding Ukiah and chasing him through the grass. And they've just pulled up another seat for you, and Randy's sidled up right along side you. Everybody's just talking and carrying on like there's been no time between you.

I wish you everything you want on the other side Aunt Clare.

Love;

Tylia

Dear Aunt Clare, Part III

Dear Clare;

"It's not worth going out while she's still alive. Your mom says its probably best if you wait until the funeral if you are going to come out." That sentence hit me like a brick.

"It's days, not weeks now," my dad said.  I guess I won't be getting that moment I want.

"She's more comfortable than she is lucid right now. You wouldn't get much time in with her anyway. There's mess of people under that house as is." That last sentence was a given.

I know you're surrounded by love. This does my heart good. Mom hasn't mentioned who is there, but I imagine it's just about everyone. All four of your kids probably go in and out, the older grand-kids probably take turns, my mom is pretty darn vigilant. I have to think Steve and Deb and probably Linda stop by and put time in as well. I can feel the love in the room hovering over you. I'm sending my love to you as well.

Mom says that when you are lucid, you're pretty tranquil, using words like glorious and at peace. Mom says that uncle Merle is powering through this like he does everything else, but she caught Uncle Merle at your bedside holding your hand in the early morning hours. If that doesn't sum up your marriage, I don't know what does.

Mom says you've talked some about Grandma and Ukiah, and heaven. I was too busy crying to really digest that conversation. Something about Grandma and Aunt Jan holding him. Mom made you promise you'd fight for some Ukiah time on the other side. I hope you do. I also hope you get to hold Randy again, that the two of you get to spend some quality time in a garden somewhere.

A revelation hit me yesterday that I was unprepared for. You, I, and Grandma are three generations that know what its like to lose a child, to feel that ache and have to carry it for the rest of our days. That's something neither you or I ever discussed. I always felt that this was something Grandma and I shared and somehow excluded you out of the group, and I'm just barely realizing it with your passing. I wish we'd talked about it in some way, however brief, but we never did. And now, that connection will pass when you do. I'm trying to unearth a profound nugget in this revelation, but I can't seem to dig it out of the ground.

I'm not sure what else to say, so I guess I'll just say what we both know.

I love you and I'll miss you always;

Tylia

Dear Aunt Clare, Part II

Dear Aunt Clare;

"Hospice is here. The prognosis is not good." That's what the text message read yesterday. The threads of the time we have with you seem to be disappearing as we speak.

"We might have weeks. We might have days," my mom said when I called. "She's as comfortable as we can make her."

I still haven't decided what to do yet. That old farmhouse could house an army, and has, sort of, but do I want to be in it during this difficult time? I don't want to feel like a burden, like another body the family has to maneuver around, but I still have this urge to have a moment with you, however brief. I don't know that this is my right though, that it's something I deserve to have, but I want it anyway.

I don't know whether to bring your great-niece either. She's not making memories right now, so I wouldn't be introducing the two of you for her benefit. You've never seen her, except for in my womb, and I think you'd love to meet her, but what would that meeting do? Would it bring you a measure of peace? Because if so I'm on the next plane out.

So many questions lingering in the ether.

I still haven't decided what to do about a rosary either. I know you have one. It's a bracelet, not a full-length rosary, but grandma is still with you. The sad thing is, right now, I can't remember which one is yours. I didn't document it here like I should. I have pictures though, but sadly, there were so many I don't remember which one what yours. How sad is that? Is this one it?

Or was it this one?

I can't quite remember.

I want to make you a full length one, and I want everyone to be incorporated. I have so many beads now, from so many people. Imagine if I could make you one, with beads from your grandmother, from all your sisters, yes even Jan, and even Lisa, and from your mother's sisters and from your daughters. How beautiful would that be, to have this rosary, or necklace, or this super long chain that has piece of everyone you love near you when you need comfort.

Would you like that? Would that bring you peace? Because I'd do it in a heartbeat.

So many questions, and all of the sudden more tears than I know how to handle. I have a lot to figure out ad not a lot of time to do it in, but no matter what I chose, I'll be thinking of you and wishing you peace.

Aunt Clare, I love you.

Love;

Tylia

Dear Aunt Clare

Dear Aunt Clare;

Please, for the love of all things holy, give me your recipe for Nana Jam. Not that I'll have much luck ever making my own jams, but I still want the recipe. This, above all else must go on after you leave us. This isn't your only endearing legacy and its definitely not your most important, but it is your most tasty, and its one of my most indelible memories of you.

I can remember watching your grandchildren squabble over the remaining bit of Nana Jam in one of those Kerr's jars. I've seen family bonds almost ruined over one jar of gifted Nana Jam.  I don't know how serious some of my cousins were when they said it was going to come to blows, but I think they were pretty damned serious. Your Nana Jam is the stuff of legend and as such, it is meant to be preserved and shared through generations.

I can remember tasting it.  It was as if sunshine exploded over my taste buds. Am I using a little bit of Hyperbole? Maybe, but I'm not to far off. I could taste the love in each bite. Sun ripened, wild raspberries picked straight from the vine probably by Uncle Merle were painstakingly put into a jam and jarred by you over your basement stove and lined the basement shelves, along with your canned green beans, sweet peas, snap peas, and beats you've grown in your garden and prepared yourself. I've always loved this and admired this about you.

It seems weird that I'd want to talk about this first. There's so much more I could be talking about. Maybe I could talk about your farmhouse and how much it feels like home to me. I feel the love in every single nook and cranny in that house. I walk in your garden, and I feel at peace. I walk in and I feel compelled to walk the floors. I walk down to basement, through your canning room, past the stove and hang out in the romper room. I go back up the stares and hang out in the kitchen before rounding the corner to the door that leads to the stairs and the rest of the house. I walk up the steep stairwell and down the hallway, surveying each of the bedrooms. I have to walk down the side of the hallway because the wood floor is warped in the center and creaks something awful. It's been that way ever since I can remember. I go back up the hallway, careful to stay to side again, and admire the claw foot tub in the bathroom, even if this guest bathroom doesn't have a shower. I go to the small room just off the stairs and find another door leading to another set of stairs that leads to the attic. I walk up them and admire the attic for just a second. I never stay in this room long. It's always too hot in the summer, and way too cold in the winter, but I admire it as well. I walk back down, shut the door and leave the room. I look through the hallway window at the balcony just off the hallway. I have no idea if the door leading to that balcony even works or not, much less the last time anybody has ever been out on it. Then I walk downstairs and hang out with the rest of the family, chatting amiably as we always do. This too seems like a weird thing to talk about in the context of you.

You are so much more than the things you make or the house you live in. But to me, they'll always be linked to you. I could make up some bullshit story about how they are symbols for who I think you are, that the jam was the nourishment you provided your family and that the house somehow symbolized the love you have for your family, because you could fit your whole family in it. No seriously. I believe we once had what 20 or 30 people staying under your roof for one of our gatherings. We were scattered on three different floors, but we were all in there, somehow. But that's just some English 101 symbolism I'd try to make fit to describe you.  It's not who you are.

I'm worried that the reason these two things pop into my head most is those are the strongest connections I have to you. Don't get me wrong, there's still so much about you that I remember, but these seem to be the stand outs. I hope that's not the case, that I haven't spent the last 34 years of my life letting you just be some minor player in my life, flitting in when events happened in the family, like your son's death, or my wedding, or my son's death and then flitting back out again. You mean so much to me and the idea of you leaving me breaks my heart like all the other losses have broken it before.

I know I still have some time left, but for the life of me, I can't figure out what to do with it. Do I make the trek to Iowa with my daughter so you can meet your great-niece in person? Do I call you just to talk? Am I allowed to ask questions about your life, your experiences? Would you be willing to share? Can I have something a bit more tangible to give my daughter so that when she asks, 'What were grandma's sisters like' I know what to tell her?

But really I'm sitting here wishing that we weren't just family, that you haven't just been my aunt for all this time, but that we were good friends, that I had these answers to my questions already. But we still have some time left and I'll be damned if I won't make it count.

Love;

Your niece Tylia

P.s. I am serious about the Nana Jam recipe though. If you haven't written it down, do so now. Preserve this for the ages. Give it to me. I want to learn. 

Memories of Karen

Not sure what brought up the memory, as long buried as it was. But the second I conjured it up into my consciousness, I suddenly felt very childlike and innocent. I’m not sure why memories of Karen and T evoke those feelings, why those memories and those emotions are tied so closely. Perhaps it’s because most of those memories were just perfect moments, that they best embodied what it meant to be a child and childlike. They are bliss, but they are also bittersweet.

I remember snippets, bits and pieces. There was that weekend, (or were there multiples?), where I stayed in their tiny mobile home trying not to get attacked by their tiny little Chihuahua Spud, which was difficult because he was so easily provoked. I can remember going to the flea market and picking out a bunny that I was so sure was going to be mine, but was told it would be Karen’s but I could play with it for as long as I was there. I remember purchasing this awesome wicker basket at a garage sale while Karen watched on. I can remember going to a mall with Karen and the determination I had in spending what little pocket money I had on a whoopee cushion. There was that day spent ice skating with her as my parents looked on. There was also the day she convinced me to get a new hairstyle (said hairstyle was a spiked mullet, and yet the memory still brings me happiness). Soon after those perfect, wonderful childlike thoughts, I immediately flash forward to their wedding, how beautiful it was, how that was a perfect end to a perfect summer, just whiling away my time at the beach, body surfing, finding shells and sand dollars and staying up until 5 am one morning crab fishing with my cousin. I remember flashes of the wedding and the rehearsal dinner and dancing and how perfect it was and how perfect Karen looked and how handsome T was.

I don’t remember the chronology, if Karen was pregnant with Clayton T or if they’d already lost him before the wedding, and because I don’t remember the timeline, I start wracking my brain to remember the chain of events as they happened, but I’m too besieged by sadness now, by the heartbreak they went through, which brings me to remembering my own heartbreak and loss. The story of their loss mirrored my own and it feels interwoven and connected in a way I dare not explain because I don’t want to risk reopening multiple wounds.

Suddenly I flash to that day my dad visited Karen in the hospital. She was on her deathbed and because I was too young at the time, I had to stay in visiting room. She died soon after that visit. I never got to directly say goodbye. She had a profound impact on so many aspects of my life and I never got to tell her that. I still think of her when I smell bitter apple or milk honey lotion. She’s so closely tied to who it is that I am and it always takes me by surprise. I love you Karen and thank you for shaping me in ways big and small.

AIDS Memorial Quilt

I know I haven't updated this in a long time, but I just found the AIDS Memorial Quilt online. My uncles are memorialized somewhere here and I'm trying to find them.

I've was searching my memory trying to remember what their quilt looked like and I couldn't quite recall no matter how much mental digging I did. I never got to see it up close before it was sent away. I only saw pictures and even those were vague in my memory. It hurt not to remember. I pride myself on my memory and when something slips through the crack, especially something this big, it pains me.

I remember a few months ago, my mom was out here, helping take care of my daughter and I asked a question about the uncles I didn't know the answer to. "How'd Tommy die?" It bugged me that I didn't know, that I couldn't recall. Tommy died on the day I was born, seven years before and even though I've never met him, I always felt this bond, this closeness I couldn't describe, and yet this was something I did not know. "He had a bleed in his stomach they couldn't stop." She answered. There might have been more explanation, but I don't quite remember. Then she said something that stopped me in my tracks. "I was there for Tommy's last breath and for JJ's. I'm still upset I missed T's." I don't know why this surprised me so much. Maybe it was that I hadn't known it before, or the bluntness with which it was said, or maybe because I had witnessed my own son take his last breath and I knew just how much of an emotional impact that had, but it was more than I could handle at the time.

It scares me that their histories might be slipping away from me. If I can't recall what the quilt looks like, what else can't I recall. It scares me that there's so much I just don't know about who they were because they were taken away from us far too soon. Maybe by finding their quilts via the memorial, I'll have a little bit more to hold onto.

A few more last minute donations

I had a few late straggler donations to my George Mark Fundraiser that are both touching and wonderful and I thought I'd add them to the list of donations and to the grand total anyway. I was given two checks, one for $50 and another for $185, which is huge! That brings the grand total to $935.90 raised by everyone. $1357.90 was raised between Ukiah's piggy bank and your fund raising efforts. But there's still more that can be done. Right now until The end of December, George Mark is involved in a dollar for dollar challenge (see the sidebar to learn more). Any money they are donated up to 250,000 is doubled. That means for every dollar you donate, you give another to George Mark free! The $235 I was just handed gives Georg Mark House $470!!! Please, consider donating a couple more bucks to George Mark if you have it!  

George Mark Tile Day

I’ve touted the awesomeness of George Mark House on this very website numerous times. My love for them and the services they provide is far reaching.  But I have yet another story about George Mark House that I want to share.

Every six months, George Mark House hosts a Tiles and Tales Day. This day gives families who have lost a child at George Mark House an opportunity to make a Tile commemorating the loved one they lost. As with a lot of things that George Mark House does, it’s a simple gesture, but for some families, like mine, that simple gesture goes a long way.

Chris and I weren’t sure we were ready for the tile day, but we signed up for it anyway, for Ukiah, as a way of honoring him. We had talked about the tile a little leading up to the big day but we hadn’t come up with any great ideas. We knew we wanted to incorporate his big blue dinosaur in some way, we just weren’t sure how.

When the big day arrived, we spent most of the morning trying to drum up ideas. Just this simple process drummed up so many emotions in us. How does one make a drawing that more or less encompasses a life, especially a life as unique and amazing as Ukiah’s? It was an utterly daunting task and it was breaking our hearts all over again (as if that doesn’t happen on a daily basis anyhow).

Finally, miraculously, we came up with an idea for the tile, one that we thought told a beautiful story that Ukiah would love.

Then we went to George Mark House. We arrived a little early and were told by a helpful volunteer that we could walk around a little bit while they set up for the event. There were a few places that we were asked to steer clear of. George Mark House had reopened their doors and since they had patients, we respected their privacy and stayed away from the patient rooms. Instead, we walked the grounds, their beautiful luscious grounds. We walked out to the court yard around the Gazebo, around the front of the building to the rock fountain and then to the walkway that had the tiles other families had created for their loved ones.

All the tiles were very different and unique, some artfully drawn and rendered, some with nice words or sayings. But they were all variations on the same theme; someone loved the child for which the tile was created very much.  And we were no different.

We then walked up near the chapel entrance, the chapel where we held Ukiah’s Memorial service. We decided not to go in but instead went to the little fountain next to the entrance of the Chapel.  The fountain itself is a huge red vase with water bubbling over its sides, towering over a pile of small rocks at the bottom. I remember being told that this fountain was set up for the staff and crew, so that they could have their own little way to remember the children who passed away there. I didn’t know if Ukiah’s name would be etched on a rock yet. And yet there it was, right in front of us. I sobbed big gasping sobs. I leaned on Chris and let the tears fall. Chris did the same. It’s hard to put into words what that little rock meant. Actually, I don’t even think that’s possible. It was touching and heartbreaking simultaneously. That’s all I feel I can say about that moment.

Finally, we walked back into the front entrance and went to the kitchen. I had brought the idea we sketched as well as a framed picture of Ukiah for inspiration to help the process along. The Art for Life folks who help put on the Tile day, were very wonderful about giving us tips and pointers for our 6X6 inch tile, from sizing the drawing, to paint colors. I wanted to match his little blue and orange dinosaur and they were more than happy to oblige. They took their time explaining the process but also gave us time and freedom to figure it out ourselves.

Along the way we got to see some familiar faces, members of the staff who had returned to George Mark since its reopening. It was all bittersweet, but beautiful in its own way. One of the familiar faces said that we should make this as quiet and cathartic for ourselves as possible, so we kept the chitchat to a minimum.

Once Chris etched the sketch onto the tile, he and I took turns painting various parts of the tile. Everything on the tile, from the objects on it to every color we selected was symbolic. It told a story and encompassed the little life that had meant so much to us as best as a 6X6 tile could. It was a thing of beauty that turned out better than Chris and I could’ve ever imagined. For the opportunity to this I am so grateful for George Mark House. I’m so grateful for them for a great many things, for the month we spent there when Ukiah was sick, to the wonderful service they provided, opening their doors to us so that we could hold Ukiah’s viewing and memorial service, even though they were closed, to this, giving us an outlet, a cathartic release for some of our pent up grief.

While I was there, I overheard a conversation that they still can’t afford to work at full staff. They’ve opened their doors, but money is still tight and they can use all the help and support they can get. If you still haven’t, please consider donating a few bucks. I know I’m not running my fundraiser right now, but consider donating just to donate. It’s not just about maintaining their services, but ensuring that the whole heart of George Mark that provides wonderful activities like this can afford to keep ticking.

 
I’m thinking about starting an Etsy store for George Mark next year. I’ll put up some of my jewelry and other fun stuff for sale, with all the proceeds helping this wonderful place keep its doors open, so keep your eyes peeled for that.  Above all else, keep getting the word out. The more people that know about this wonderful place, the more likely people are to donate, increasing George Mark House’s chances of keeping its doors open.

One more last minute donation!!!

We're now at $690.90!!! Exciting news! That's just over 1100 with Ukiah's piggy bank donation!!! I just have to say that I have some utterly generous friends and I can't thank people enough!!!

I'm so utterly thrilled i can't even tell you. I'm extending the fundraiser to October 2nd midnight! Let's really close this fundraiser with a bang!!! Can we reach $1000 before Saturday night? Only $309 left to raise? Wouldn't that be wonderful?!?!?!

Last Minute Donations

Let it not be said that I don't have any friends, because I have some of the best friends ever. Some very generous friends that helped add 250 dollars to my donation total. I love you guys. Thank you so much for generosity, and your friendship. You are true gems!

The George Mark Family

In life, there a big moments and small moments. Some of those big moments happen in small ways, almost most with a whisper, that in retrospect becomes a shout.

I went to George Mark House today to drop off a quilt my mother made, the jewelry I made, and the donations I received plus the piggy bank amount.  I didn't know what to expect, but I tried to emotionally prepare myself for almost anything. When I got there, Dr. Beech was out on the patio just to the right of the building. She was surprised and completely happy to see me. Her open arms took me in with one of her patented hugs that's simultaneously strong and comforting. I showed her the contents of the box I was carrying and she took it with great enthusiasm. She sheep herded me around and made sure I got lunch and a drink. In true Dr. Beech fashion, she talked with great enthusiasm and reverence about the House and organization she believes so deeply in and works so hard for. In true Dr. Beech Fashion, she listened patiently as I recounted in my own words what George Mark House meant to me, how truly it had touched me.

She introduced me to the companion she was having lunch with, another woman who had lost her daughter in January, only a few months before I had lost Ukiah. And we talked about everything, about our experiences as mothers who'd lost children, about what George Mark meant to us, about our aspirations as writers, about life after loss, about it all, about our hopes and dreams for the future. It was such a simple meeting, it was all such a simple thing. Going to George Mark House, dropping off my donations, having a brief meeting with a woman I'd never met before, and yet it feels huge. This little adventure I had today made ripples that I think will be big waves.

The donations made ripples as well. The woman taking my donations and I talked and I told her how my donations plus the checks I was dropping off and the donations made from Piggy Banks for George Mark fundraiser made close to 700 dollars. She looked at me straight-faced and earnest and said. "That's a day for some child." We as a collective unit were able to provide one day of care for some child. We were able to provide some parent a piece of mind that their child would be cared for and watched over the same way my Ukiah was for one day. To me, that means something so monumental, I can't put it into words. I almost couldn't contain myself.

I want to be able provide as many days as possible. I want more families to have more days. I've done my part, and you can still do yours. Please donate. Give some family a day, a small sliver of a day of solace, of love, of courage, of reverence, of family. Because George Mark House is all those things and more. And it deserves to have its doors open and keep them open. You won't find an organization more thoroughly thankful and respectful of your donation.

I think I'll always be doing my part. The piggy bank is empty now, but that means it can be filled again, and again and George Mark can benefit from its contents again and again. I think this has solidified my will to do this fundraiser again. Because as Dr. Beech put it, it's not just about the money, but it's also about spreading the word, and that's huge!

This Little Piggy Went to Market

This little piggy has stayed home for far too long, longing for an adventure, to go outside and get some fresh air. The nursery is a lonely place, especially nowadays, and it's good to get outside and see the sights.

So this little piggy went to market.

Getting to the market was an adventure in and of itself. The laundry room change bin came along for the ride and it couldn't contain itself and spilled some of its contents out all over the place. This little piggy was concerned, very, very concerned.

This little piggy did finally make it to market and the nearest Coinstar machine and this little piggy shook and shook itself fiercely until it was no longer full. This little piggy also had a fifty stuck in it (Thanks Mom!). This little piggy was a proud little piggy indeed. This little piggy watched as the laundry room coin bin got cashed out as well. This little piggy watched as the coin layers peeled away to what this little piggy thought was the mesozoic era. This little piggy looked at the bottom of the coin bin and realized that the coins on the bottom had left rusted impressions of themselves on the coin bin. This little piggy felt really bad about the poor, maligned coin bin.

This little piggy did not feel bad about the grand total. The change brought just over $360 dollars all told (400 hundred if CoinStar wasn't such a gouger, but whatevs) That plus the fifty and a couple of random ones found in some odd places brings the grand total to 422 dollars! This little piggy was a very happy little piggy.

This little piggy wondered how much roast beef it could have with that money, but this little piggy had none. (This little piggy has always wondered why this little piggy would eat roast beef, what with roast beef originating from cows, one of this little piggy's farmyard brethren. This little piggy thinks that's cruel. This little piggy is thinking about going vegetarian.) This little piggy went Wee! Wee! Wee! all the way home! (Well first this little piggy stopped at Jamba Juice where The Bloody Munchkin got a sinus freeze and went Ouch, Ouch, Ouch all the way home, but same difference).

This little piggy can't wait for the money to go to George Mark House  tomorrow! This little piggy thinks that'll be a great adventure (I am running to George Mark tomorrow, so if you want me to hand deliver your donation, better get on the horn and let me know, tyliagardner @ hotmail dot com). Remember, I'm not counting this as part of the grand total of contest, so if you guys still want me to do the truffle shuffle, you better get your collective butts in gear and cash in 700 bucks to George Mark House and let me know about it!

Cash in those little piggies! Feel free to make up ridiculous stories just like this one and let me know about it and e-mail me and I'll post the story. I may or may not have a prize attached to the best story! Because this little piggy is a dork for such things apparently! (And why did my brain want to insert a Deliverance "Squeal like a pig!" reference? So twisted, so bizarre!)

Jewelry for George Mark House

I have made a whole mess of jewelry for George Mark House for their silent auction taking place on October 2nd that I thought I'd share with you. If donate to George Mark House and send me the receipt, you could have some of my one of a kind jewelry in your future!

I probably won't make these pieces again for the donations, but keep these designs in mind if they strike your fancy and I'll be happy to make something similar. Also, be kind to me about the photography. I don't have a nice camera and a studio. I have a canon power shot and my couch cushions, so I did the best I could.

First up is matching necklace, bracelet, and earrings I did using green crystal beads.

The bracelet is cuff I made using elastic string and metal eye hooks. Here's a close up of the bracelet.

The green pendents in the bracelet match the green pendents in the necklace. The necklace itself is three stranded using green and clear crystal beads along with the green pendent beads used in the bracelet.

The matching earrings are a simple wired and green crystal design.

I also did a simple but funky garnet and wire bracelet with a magnetic clasp and two sets of earrings, one's a funky day look and the other, longer pair is a more elegant night look. (Look at me, talking about jewelry in sophisticated terms, like I know what the heck I'm talking about).

Take a gander and let me know what you think. I haven't taken these to George Mark House yet, so they might not go to auction. If not, I'll make them part of the prizing proper, but in order to give them out, I've got to do a little better than 200 hundred dollars in fundraising efforts. If you haven't donated, consider this your reason for doing so.

Piggy Banks for George Mark Update

Hi all! Sorry I haven't been around last week very much. Work was crazy and I had a health thing that knocked me on my butt for a few days and made me feel miserable, but that's not say there aren't updates to be made. I finished some more jewelry items that I'm donating to George Mark House for their own silent auction taking place on October 2nd. I'll be posting pictures of those items some time this week so you can peep some of what might be in store for you if you donate to George Mark House and win!

Also, I might have another item to put on the Prizing list that I'm finalizing. I think, I hope, I don't know.

The awesome and wonderful Sars has made a decision on the bracelet she wants and I'll be getting that out the door this week, so I'll be updating the prize list to exclude that bracelet.


And lastly, I just got a donation yesterday, which puts the total for this fundraiser at $200! I'm so happy about this because that's two hundred bucks George Mark House wouldn't have had otherwise, it's two hundred bucks that will go a long way to helping children just like my son and families just like mine. But there's still more to be made, more to do.  You guys have to raise 800 more bucks to get me to do the truffle shuffle, but I think we can do it, so let's get 'er done! Get those donations in and e-mail me. You've got sixteen more days until the end! Get those piggy banks filled and cashed in! Whatever you can do to help! I'd appreciate it.


Did you get a receipt but you haven't e-mailed me yet? E-mail me at tyliagardner @ hotmial (dot) com. I'll try and put a direct e-mail link into the George Mark Fundraiser panel on the right. If that doesn't work, let me know in the comments and I'll try and work something out.


Thanks you guys. Keep it going.

Prizing Update

I've finally added some new prizes to the list and hope to add a few more within the next week. A wonderful friend of Tomato Nation donated a pair of knitted, beaded fingerless gloves which I'm very excited about and I made some bracelets for 7 very lucky winners, that look like this:

See all the new additions here in the prizing page.

George Mark House fact of the day #3

O.k, first thing's first. The total is up to 150! Great News!

Also, new prizes will be eminent, but I'm still finalizing a couple odds and ends, so I'm not sure exactly when I'll post, only that it'll be within the next week.

Onto the fact of the day.

Fact #3:


Rather than overcrowded hospitals, George Mark House holds a maximum of eight children at a time. Each child receives and his or her family receives  a great deal of attention from from both the staff and the volunteers. Each room has its own individual theme, with beautiful murals in each depicting different scenes. My son stayed in the Railroad Crossing room that had two murals of beautiful rolling hills with a train meandering through the scene. The rooms and the personalized care provided a perfect place for my son to get better without being intrusive. They provide a high level of care without being intrusive.

A New Way Home Screening Date

A New Way Home finally got that screening date it deserves! October 4th, at 7:00 pm, at the Grandlake Theatre in Oakland, CA! If you're in the Bay Area, its well worth your time! Mark your calenders!

George Mark House fact of the day #2

I have some quick updates before I get started. First, I added a total counter to the side panel so we can all keep up with the donation total. Keep it glued to the Piggy Banks for George Mark panel for total updates.

Also, I have a few more prizes to add to the prizes list in the next week, so keep a locked here for prizing information.

Thirdly, the current total just doubled from $25 to $50 this morning!!!! Yeah!!! Keep those donation reciepts coming!!! Thanks to everyone who has donated and spread the word on this little drive so far!!!!

O.k., so without further ado, here's your little fact of the day about George Mark House.

Fact of the Day #2:

George Mark House offers a wide range of services to the children who come into its doors. They have an in house hydrotherapy pool as well as a fully licensed on-call hydro-therapist. They also have a child life specialist that provides fun, games, arts and crafts not only to the children but to their siblings as well. They offer a wide range of fun events to all the occupants that come in the door. And I'm talking a wide range of fun events. Therapy dogs, fireman, bunnies, traveling zoos, proms. They have it all. They actually had a camel on their campus! A camel! They once brought a mini pony into my son's room. Where else can a sick patient get to pet a mini pony? Nowhere else that I know of. So let's get those doors back open!

George Mark House fact of the day #1

Today marks the official start of this little contest of mine. I just want to take a moment and thank everyone whose participated so far. Right now, the official total stands at $25. If you want to make me do the truffle shuffle and FILM it (I mean, I do the truffle shuffle a lot, there's never been videotape proof though), we're shooting for 1,000, so get those jars going and scrounge that loose change!

In the mean time, I thought I'd post little facts and tidbits about George Mark House that make it great, unique and center worth your money and energy.

Fact #1

George Mark House is the only palliative pediatric care house in the nation that helps children with life-limiting illnesses. There are upwards of 40 houses like George Mark House in the U.K, but there's only one in the United States and that's George Mark House. And right now it's doors are closed, so the US doesn't even have that. We have a responsibility to kids like my son to ensure that they do have something like this available. Let's think of the kids.