The kindness of friends and strangers . . .

Friday, July 31, 2010
Haven't been experimenting much in the kitchen the past few days, as Penny and Jim were up Thursday and part of Friday, to help us finish our deck project—help us, I say, as though Bob and I had anything to do with it . . . Bob has a good excuse, but I can't take credit for even a fraction of the hard work that went into this job. P & J busted their butts over the course of a couple of weekends and turned the cruddy deck into a work of beauty. Those two are maniacs! Got all the tough stuff done over the past few weeks—the power-washing, cleaning and painting the railings and trim, all that's left now is a clear coat of sealant, which I can slap on maybe this weekend, if the sun returns. But with what's been done already, all I can say is: Oh. My. God. My outdoor office is absolutely stunning, peeps! Now, too bad today is overcast and damp, and I can't sit out there and bask in its fresh, lovely glory . . . tomorrow is supposed to be gorgeous, though, so I shall make up for lost time then. (picture above is the deck, PPJ—pre-Penny & Jim. Sadly, that's what was left of the "stain" put on by the so-called professionals, less than a year after application . . .pic below is P & J's handiwork . . .)

Story behind this is, we hired a deck refinishing company last year to do the work and they ended up doing a horse-shit job, to use one of my dad's favorite and often oh-so-appropriate phrases. After going round and round with them to get them to redo it—which they did, twice, each time worse than the previous attempt—the company went bankrupt and we were SOL, as far as getting any kind of compensation (and, please, well-meaning as it may be, refrain from dispensing any advice about how to go after them, unless you're an attorney willing to work pro bono—I just don't have the time or energy). Chalk it up to a lesson in the School of Hard Knocks. That's what I get, for letting my Angie's List subscription expire . . .

But, even better, the dynamic-duo, P & J, came to our rescue {insert dramatic super-hero music here}, pulling up in the black Magical Mystery van, power washer, tools and work clothes in tow, ready to work. We've taken pictures along the way, which I just sent to the deck company today, btw, because I still have contact e-mail addresses, hopefully putting them to shame, showing how my 72 year old FIL and 69-year-old MIL kicked ass on their work (QUICK update: this has turned into the most hilarious back-n-forth e-mail exchange between me and some rep from the stain company all day, who is involved because they supposedly sold the faulty stain to the deck company . . . I've just been eggin' this dude on, insulting his mother and his manhood, and he's eating it up . . . passive aggressive, yes, but I'm getting perverse satisfaction, given I won't get any monetary or otherwise. The exchange is worthy of a blog entry all its own! Good entertainment, if nothing else . . . hope he doesn't have my address . . .)

Anyhoooooo, enough of those dimwits and back to the people who really matter in our world.

P & J are the two of the hardest working people I have ever known—two weeks ago, when it was more hot and humid than a Swedish sauna outside, they were out there, power-washing and scrubbing the deck—I truly thought one, if not both, was going to pass out in the heat, but they wouldn't stop and wouldn't let me help . . . they finished in two weekends (we have lots of deck space, peeps, maybe 700+ square feet—almost more than the inside of our house) and came back this week to do the railings and trim.

These kids spin loop-de-loops 'round people half their age, doing scary stuff like climbing on the roof, scampering up and down wobbly ladders, dangling precariously as they paint away—the very reasons these things aren't getting done by yours truly—teensie-bit afraid of heights, y'see . . . while they were power-washing, scampering, climbing and dangling, I was inside, safely grounded, cleaning the screened deck, washing windows, feeling like a big wus . . . I came out once the power-washing was done and helped paint . . . and once all the work was done, I did treat everyone to my special veggie-infused buffalo burgers, sweet corn and home-made potato salad, all ingredients coming from the beloved St. Paul's farmer's market . . .

I get it why they do this. Completely. First of all, because of who they are. The kind of people who jump in and help family, a friend, a neighbor in need, even before being asked. It's what they do, it's as deeply ingrained, as instinctive as anything about them. But more so, it's to be with Bob, their son. To be near him, in the same house with him, to do whatever they can to help him, us, get through this. That part, I'll never truly know, being we have no kids of our own, but the pain must cut so deep, to see your child suffer like this, no matter what their age . . .to see it happen multiple times cuts that much deeper, that many more times . . .To feel so helpless in a helpless situation is more than a person can bear, I know that feeling all too well. To do something like refinishing a deck is something. Better than sitting around, just waiting. . . sometimes the work is so mundane, so mind-numbing, so mindless, but at the same time, soothes the soul. That I know, too, like when I went out and power-washed the railroad ties along the hosta bed and sidewalk today, or when I cook like a madwoman . . . clears the mind. Makes you sweat, breathe the air—hell, gasp for air, feeling the rhythm of life with every sweep of the broom, every swipe of the paintbrush, every arc of water from the sprayer, every crow cawing, even squirrels chattering above. . . and when you're done, every bone, every muscle, ever pore aches. You're alive. Yes, it's something.

We had lots of somethings these past few weeks, during this time of biding—phone calls, e-mails, sweet packages in the mail, from lovely candles and soaps (LOVE them, Bev!), to cards with "badges" that I'm so wearing to our next doctor's visit (thanks, Wanda, a 1 year breast cancer survivor herself, my age, double-mastectomy, j, m, & j . . .), a package with a Savoy's pizza gift certificate and a Chuck Norris/Bob Andrzejek Cannot be Stopped book (Kristina, you rock!), a generous check from someone we don't even know, frequent "Hi, how are you" cards from an auntie in Rochester, e-mails from other beloved aunts and cousins I don't get to see much, a benefit held in Bob's honor last Saturday during his 25th year reunion, a good friend of mine delivereing a box of organic veggies from her husband's garden, a neighbor who stops to ask how Bob is doing, offers her services, whatever we might need, another who tells me she offers up a little prayer every time she walks by our house in the early morning hours, random messages from people I barely, if at all, know, or have lost touch with, who have found out about Bob's battle, poems from my mom, artwork that adorns our fridge, from the kids in our lives. . . I could go on and on . . . see, these are my prayers, peeps. This is what keeps me going. When I'm feeling lonely and so very isolated, these are the things that brighten my day. I know, a little bit, anyway, what it must feel like to be a prisoner, or a serviceperson in a foreign land, so far away, getting that connection to the

outside world . . .that so many people are thinking about us, praying for us, holding us tight in their thoughts and well wishes swells myheart, makes my skin tingle, gives me strength . . . I hate to speak for Bob, but I'd venture to guess he feels the same. Perhaps even more . . .

So! Tonight's dinner comes complements of my dear friend, Karen and her sweet hubby, Tim! The veggies are from Tim's home-grown, organic garden, in the heart of my favorite suburb ev-ah, Roseville! Karen said Tim's so organic, he actually goes out to the garden and hand picks the bugs off his plants. Seriously. He also works for the DNR, so maybe it's a special "catch-n-release" program he's working on—catch the bugs and release them into a neighbor's garden, late at night . . . anyhow, they blessed us with a box of veggies and a package of

Canadian-caught walleye, which made deciding what to do for dinner tonight easy enough. Pecan-encrusted walley, steamed green beans (just tossed with melted butter, ground pepper and sea salt) and a variation on the insalata caprese salad: chopped tomatoes and fresh mozzerella cheese, tossed with basil-infused olive oil (from Surdyk's—I was out of fresh basil—this olive oil was so flavorful, I almost didn't miss it!), balsamic vinegar, salt 'n' peppa. I'd share the pecan walleye recipe with you, but it was an amalgamation of several—basically dredge walleye in flour (I used whole wheat), a beaten egg and finely-chopped pecans/crumbs of choice. Bake at 425 for maybe 15 minutes (depending on the thickness of your fishies). Eat. Enjoy. LOVE! to you all!!! xxoo!