Dear Stars in the Sky:
You may already know this, but if you've been busy and not noticed, a brand
new star has joined you. Her name is Lou. She's lovely and sparkly and
kind. Please welcome her warmly and keep her good company. We miss her
very much down here.
Love, Lisa
Dear India:
Why why why is 3:30 am the preferred hour to be up complaining? And by complaining I mean screaming like your skin is being peeled off. Why? I love you more than sunshine but you are messing with my sanity, which is rather fragile as it is.
Love, Mama
Dear Tooth Fairy:
Please bring my daughter the rest of her teeth. I will pay you cash money, as much as you ask.
Love, Lisa
Dear Warm Weather:
You are frabjous! Please settle in, make yourself at home, and do not be scared off by winter. We've had enough of that dickhead.
Love, Lisa
Dear New Orange Dress:
How are you see-through? You are wool. Knit merino wool. You are a strong orange. You looked opaque to me when I put you on.
So how is it that at the end of the day, in evening light, my husband was able to tell me the color and style of my bra and underwear? And, more importantly, how many other people would've been able to tell me the same throughout the day on Wednesday?
Love, Lisa
Lisa, I'm so sorry for your loss. Lots of big hugs to you.
ReplyDeleteI'm also sorry about your dress! Where was Nick on Wednesday morning?!
Something I haven't thought about for a while: shortly after we moved into our house ten years ago, I was home alone in the upstairs bathroom getting ready for work when I heard a knock on the back door. I opened the bathroom window and looked down, and there was a solicitor standing there. I told him we weren't interested and that he shouldn't knock on people's back doors. After a bit of back and forth, I shut the window and watched him as he walked away down the alley. He kept looking back, up at the window. It was a long time before he was out of sight.
Some weeks later, my husband let me know that when I'd been waving goodbye to him that morning from that same window as he backed his car down the alley, he could see very clearly that I was not wearing a shirt or a bra. This is a frosted window we're talking about. Evidently not frosted enough! I don't go topless next to that window anymore.
Laura, I am so very sorry about your window but man, oh man, did you make me laugh.
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