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Yesterday, the Tinks did their annual television appearance (hey, they did it last year and twice is a tradition) at the telethon for McMaster Children’s Hospital – yes, I forgot to tell you on Friday. I should be whipped with a wet noodle – and I watched for about an hour. And as usual, I cried buckets. Teared up, sniffled, wept and bawled. I cried at the sad stories, I cried at the happy endings, I cried during the segment of memories from the 2002 campaign and I wept when the Tinks were on. Which doesn’t make any sense whatsoever, as they were clearly fine (albeit having that glazed look that signals naptime being imminent)


and it’s not like there were pictures of when they were in the NICU and Morgan was on a ventilator and they were both so tiny and… I simply cannot be relied on to maintain my composure when exposed to things like this and I have no idea how John manages to be one of the hosts and not blubber helplessly throughout. On camera. No idea.

Two weeks ago, I cried my way through Idol Gives Back – at the faces if the orphans in the African refugee camp, at the ridiculously low cost of providing mosquito netting and malaria medication, at a 12-year-old boy raising his sister, at the starvation, at the insanely terrible conditions, at crowded hospital wards, babies dying from malaria, young women dying of AIDS, leaving orphaned HIV-positive children behind. I teared up at the kids in the U.S. who were also the recipients of donations – kids who don’t get adequate nutrition because good food costs money, at kids still living in FEMA trailers two years after Katrina, at huge food banks dispensing essentials to poor families. What is with us that we allow children to live in poverty in wealthy countries? And I not just bashing the U.S. here – I include Canada. It’s bleeding shameful, it is. How about we get a grip and switch our priorities to what’s really important instead of… well. You get the drift.

Yesterday and two weeks ago, I had to fight the urge to distribute my rent money to these worthy causes, Ken’s Ride for Heart, plus several others near and dear to my heart. In the end, I decided that making myself homeless wasn’t the solution. However, given that I’d just had a small accident at Audible (the bastards had a sale) – as Stephanie says, I fell and accidentally swiped my credit card on the way down – I decided to give the same amount I’d spent on luxury items (books may feel like necessities, but really, they aren’t) to a place where it’d do some good.

I keep worrying about my lack of money, but I haven’t gone a day without good food, the rent for my nice apartment is paid and I have money for books. Perspective. It’s a good thing.