My free caregiver that I had arranged for my father so I can afford to attend CPAC told me yesterday that his job requires him to be in Richmond this week so he is no longer available. That means that I have to pay for someone to care for my father. I sold some items over the weekend so I can pay my expenses for Thursday, Feb. 9. However, the cost of a caregiver, gas, tolls, parking and meals is about $250 per day for Friday and Saturday. Please donate to help send me to CPAC.
The most important thing I can do at CPAC is to meet other bloggers because that un-demonizes me. The word “lesbian” is heavily stereotyped on the rightwing. Just meeting in person lifts that almost entirely. I am 58 and at my age, as Lincoln observed, your face shows your character. My face is sweet and my manner is friendly and kind because that is who and what I am. I can form friendships and build bridges in person that would be impossible to create in the rough-and-tumble of the virtual world of the blogosphere. Please donate to help send me to CPAC. I thank you in advance with all my heart.
UPDATE, 2/9/12, Thurs.: THANK YOU, readers of Instapundit and Transterrestrial Musings (and the people who tweeted whose tweets I’m too tired to find to link right now) — you have made it possible for me to attend CPAC! Late Wednesday morning enough donations had come in for me to figure I could squeak through if I brought my Glucerna meal bars and ate at McDonald’s. My plans came together and fell apart many times over the last 36 hours, but finally by noon on Wednesday I not only had someone I trust to provide 24-hour care for my father but also a place to stay that’s only about a mile from the hotel.
I would have written all my thank-you e-mails immediately but it started snowing and I thought it was wiser to get my errands done before it accumulated. (One-to-two inches had been forecast — I will write them after sleeping a few hours.) When I got home I had to bake low-sodium bread and prepare food to leave for my father, then do laundry and de-squalorize the litterboxes and bathrooms. The caregiver came after midnight and I had my father stay up so I could show her his bedtime routine. It’s 3:15 am right now and I’m just getting to sit down. Oh, and thanks to the donations that came in this evening, I’ll be able to buy food! I’m tickled pink about that and too punchy to figure out how to phrase that in a way that doesn’t sound pathetic — I just don’t care if it does, and I’m truly delighted. Thank you!