Day 18: My Feb bake sale to get money for a Private Investigator

Dear My Blogger Friends who are so encouraging,

Well, today it appears, my sadness is not as strong, as tends to be the case with me when one day ends and a new begins anew with the dawn of another day. So on this day of today, I remain hopeful because I am going to try to earn enough money for someone who is called an "investigator," as my new blog friend, Mike, suggested to me, because it appears an investigator to find one's boyfriend whom one doesn't know the name of, is not such a cheap ordeal, nor do they appear to do it for free, even if the consulation is free because they wish to reunite long lost loved ones.

So after I learned about the private investigator and obtained a bit of information that I do not think is necessary to put in the public domain of my blog, I started baking as many delicious treats as I could put my hands on, such as: brownies, peppermint cookies filled with cream cheese, and lemon cookies. Well, it then suddenly came to pass that I had run out of sugar, so I substituted a bag of leftover Christmas candy canes instead of the sugar, after I had smashed them up with a hammer, as I figured that sugar comes from cane anyway, and it was certainly sweet enough.

So then with the cane sugar, I baked peanut butter cookies and molassas cookies. Then I picked up a very sturdy card table that only had one wobbly leg, which I use for such things as I tend to use, and I put on it a very beautiful old curtain that had pictures of baby trolls on it, and I set this outside of my residence. I then displayed all of my wonderful creations of which I was proud because I had worked for many hours in the place that I used to call the kitchen, but now call that "kitchart" in honor of one of my old friend bloggers, Alejo.

And this is where my joy for making money turned to become a little bit of frustration, as tends to be the emotion that occurs when I hit stumbling blocks that simply have no meaning and are there just to make me frustrated even though a girl such as I is usually just so calm. Well, it came to pass that no one was interested in purchasing my bake sale items for the private investigator. It was dark in the town in which I live, and while it was probably 35-40 degrees F because it has been a warm day, it still seemed as though no one wanted to make the effort to come and help out a girl such as I who really only wants to be reunited with her long lost loved one.

But then as I threw up a peppermint molassas cookie at a street sign, so as to release some of my frustration in a healthy manner, I had the nice idea to make signs myself, and so I took some old newspapers that were thrown about in my neighbor's yard and I ripped them up and used a very black "permanent" marker, as they are known to be called, and I wrote in very large letters: "BUY BAKED GOODS TO GET ME MY LONG LOST LOVED ONE TODAY!"

After a few minutes or so, it seemed not everyone could see this sign from where they were positioned inside their big homes, so I took the sign around with me to each door that I could find and I spoke only the words on the sign in a very loud clear voice, that really took a lot of my energy, and kindly held it up for them to see. Well, it seemed that most people were in the middle of their dinners and were not quite ready to have a dessert, but when I was persistent with a woman who was not quite a spring-chicken, she finally did give me a dime and so I returned to my card table, and brought her back a peanut butter cookie, because I thought that was really the only kind of cookie a lady like her ought to be seen eating.

Well, it is now getting later and I have decided to close up shop for the night, but the thing which keeps my spirits high is that I know that if I leave the baked goods outside tonight, the cold night-time air will probably keep them fresh until morning, and afterall, it's like I always say, "Tomorrow is another day filled with hopes and new thoughts and also time to go back to old thoughts and activities and finish what you started the previous day." Which, in my case, is the sale of my baked goods so that I can afford to hire a "PI" so that I might be reunited with my long lost loved one that I saw at the Shell Gas station way back on the day called Sunday, February, 2005, in which the days of the week and numbers will be the same in March because February has exactly 4 weeks.

Love,
Orch