Working in the rain.

If anything ever came along that made me wish I were a praying sort, this would be it. I'd pray my ass off for you. And then maybe I wouldn't feel so unsure about what I could do to help. Alas, I'm not really a praying sort, so instead we'll have to do with a little parable from the Church of MICE:


You know, some people work in the rain; some people run for shelter and the beer cooler.
In some ways, it's kind of symbolic, though. Physically, there is no other way but for you to go through this alone: your body, your fight. But in spirit -- and I know you hardly need to be told this -- you've got so many people with you. And when you have people behind you with a Pulaski and yellow latex gloves, you know you can face anything.

I don't know that I have told you this, but you have always reminded me of my brother. Both of you are fabulous cooks and can make a meal materialize out of seemingly thin air in the most amazing way. Like you hardly even broke a sweat. Like you weren't even really paying attention to what you were doing because you continue to entertain the guests the whole time. Making the whole thing look deceptively easy. It is part of your grace. But it belies your skill and intelligence and strength.

I have been thinking about you a lot. And I know that you have whatever is required to rise to this goddamn occasion.
-- Bob