I honestly cannot believe that I am sitting down to write this post, when I have so many other things to do. Consider...
I still have lots of boxes to unpack.
I still have lots of rooms to paint.
But before I even do that, I still have lots of colors that I must pick out.
There is wall paper to peel. Siding to prime. Rugs to pull.
There are electricians, plumbers and tree removal experts to hire.
And then, there are even more boxes to unpack.
There are four adorable small children to dote upon, heavily.
And a similarly adorable husband who needs heavy doting, too.
There are school functions to attend and kindergarten books to read.
There's a new job, which is turning out to be a very busy job that often finds me working long hours during the day (and night and early morning).
There's a new town (and awesome creek) to explore.
There are mosquitoes to swat and museums to tour.
But when I recently found out that one of my co-worker's daughters underwent a mastectomy at the age of 24, and one of my best friends from childhood underwent a double mastectomy at the age of 38, I quickly remembered that one of the most important things that I have on my plate to accomplish this year is a 60-mile breast cancer walk that is scheduled to take place in less than three weeks.
Now, please, consider this:
I have done NO fundraising.
And unlike previous events, where I've reached my fundraising minimum at least a month before the event and then exceeded it by a thousand dollars or more, I haven't raised one single dime. Not a nickel. Not even a penny. And perhaps worst of all, I have done NO training.
(Although, I have dropped two pant sizes over the past four months.)
(Probably from worrying and stressing out incessantly.)
When I first signed up for this walk, I had hoped to host lemonade stands and cookie sales and several raffles. I had also hoped to send out fancy pink letters to all of my friends, family and co-workers in an effort to raise an exorbitant amount of money for this critical cause.
But things have been a little busy and now, I'm running out of time. So instead of all that fanfare, I'm going to offer up ONE Pottery Barn Kids regular sized beanbag chair - in the solid color of one's choice, with embroidery, to be raffled off on 10.10.10.
As it turns out, 10.10.10 just so happens to be the last day of my walk.
(So, on second thought, the raffle might not happen until October 11. Or December 20.) (Or whenever I'm able to move, again.)
For every $5.00 donation, you will be entered in to the raffle, once. You can access my donation page by clicking on the widget to the left of the blog, or you can follow this link.
I still have a few "Be Amazing" bracelets (although all the children's sizes are long gone), so I'd be more than happy to mail one for every $5.00 donation received, directly to my fundraising page. Please just leave me a comment, or send me an e-mail, telling me the number (and size and color) you'd like.
All donations are 100% tax deductible. And since a large portion of the donations received for research, treatment and outreach come from private donations, every cent helps. Of course dollars help even more. Particularly the kind with Ben Franklin on the front. But please don't let that hold you back if those are scarce from your collection.
(They're nearly absent from mine.)
For the past few weeks, I've been thinking "Why, in the world, would I do this walk? If anyone deserves a pass until next year ... it's got to be ME."
But then, there's this pesky little voice that's been whispering in my ear...
"You should do this walk because you CAN. And not because the money that you will raise will automatically CURE cancer, but because it's a step in the right direction. This walk is a sign of support to ANYONE that is battling - or has battled - or might battle - or has lost their battle, to this horrific disease that in some way, impacts everyone and claims millions of lives each year. You are doing this walk to raise awareness. You are doing this walk for your friends and loved ones and people you don't even know. You are doing this walk to honor my childhood friend and my co-worker's daughter and for my blogger friends Winecat and Annie. And even Ms. Pat. You are doing this walk to remember Deana and Julie and Uncle Bill and Aunt Carolyn and Cousins Raymond and Andrea and far too many more."
Although my life is extremely busy at the moment (whose isn't?!) and raising $2,300 dollars in three weeks and then, walking 60 miles over the course of three days will undoubtedly be hard...
I'm absolutely certain that facing a cancer diagnosis would be even harder.
(Who's got some roller skates I can borrow?)