Archive | March, 2009

Dear All

31 Mar

Dear All,

I’ve been busy lately, making Big Decisions. And now I am out of town, as part of the process of making Big Decisions.

Ay yi yi…

I will be back soon. I apologize for the dearth of letters.




Dear Sick Children

26 Mar

Dear Sick Children,

I feel for you, I really do. And in fact, yesterday you did a moderate to excellent job of covering your mouths when you coughed and wiping your noses on disposable paper (toilet, paper towels) and throwing it away afterward.

However. Being sick, and children, your cuddle instincts increased, sort of like how in the summer gnats swarm right at face level. And because it’s winter, and I’m sick, it’s sort of like how when it’s so hot in the summer you sweat and the gnats seem to stick to your face.

Every time you coughed or sneezed, I could feel it sticking to my face. Unnecessary, dear children. I know you feel bad, I do. I feel bad when I’m sick. I have the sinking feeling I’m about to have a lot of empathy for your plight.

Although my enthusiasm for summer remains undiminished.



Dear Massage Therapy

17 Mar

Dear Massage Therapy,

Ahhhhh. Every insurance provider should insure this is provided.

Imagine how much less road rage there would be. See the blood pressure and hypertension drop. Watch the divorce rate plummet. Good-bye ulcers and migraines and emotional breakdowns…

See us all walking around like we live in a 1970’s nudist colony. (What, don’t you picture them smiling?)

I think Pres. Barack Obama would totally get behind this for the national health care plan. Because it’s coming soon, right? Right?

Jill Biden would be all over a spa day. Hell, Joe Biden would snuggle between those massage table sheets and heated blankets like a cat settling into the place you planned to sit. All smug and endearing at the same time. Until he hacks up a hairball.

And with that…



Dear Helpful People

12 Mar

Dear Helpful People,

Most of the time, you are helpful, and that is an amazing and wondrous thing.  You find items in the back of the store that are not on the shelves, and you honor the price listed rather than whatever it is that rings up that is more for some unexplainable reason.  You give hints on how to get the best discount, and you stand there holding a door open for longer than is merely polite.  You point out things I’ve dropped, and help me reach tall things (because closing my eyes does not actually extend my arm reach).  You provide me with information in a timely manner and say, “Have a good day!” very, very sincerely.

But then, sometimes, you’re too helpful.  Like when I walked into the little dessert place around the corner from my house, and found no little loaves of chocolate cake like I once ate over a year ago.

And I asked, kind of vaguely, “So there’s no hazelnut or something like that chocolate cake?”

And you said, slowly, “Nooo…well, maybe…hazelnut?”

And I said, “Well, maybe.  Maybe it was something else.  It was chocolate and came in little bread loaf shaped pieces?  It was really wonderful.”

And then you looked around, and suggested that maybe it was chestnut, and then went to see if you had any whole cakes of it in the back, and then dragged the pastry chef out to talk to me, who told me he makes 12 different kinds of rolled (bread loaf shaped to me) cakes, and it could have been any one of them, and they make different ones depending on the day so maybe another day but not today and then you tried to describe how often you make the chestnut one, even though that totally may not be what I’m looking for, and you settled on, “Pretty, well, sort of , maybe, often.”  And then said, “Maybe it the flourless chocolate cake.”  (Or, conceivably, one of the other ten.)

Through all of this I kept trying to say, “It’s ok, I’ll check back, I clearly don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, so how could I expect you to know, please help these other nice people in line, really, I promise I’ll come back, you aren’t losing my business, you are so so so helpful, but please let me go home now.”

All in all, helpful is better than not helpful.  Too helpful is awkward in the most delightful way possible.

And finally– thank you.


Dear Slogans

11 Mar

Dear Slogans,

I would like to nominate two outstanding candidates for your consideration, wider community of Attempted Occasionally Successful Mostly Not Catchy Slogans:

Nominee #1: “It’s okay to look.”

It’s simple.  It’s short.  It’s…sweet?  Ok, so perhaps it encourages behind the back peeking– that is, looking around when you’re not satisfied with your significant other.  (I prefer to think primarily in the vein of “If you like pina coladas.”  And look how that worked out.) Mostly, though, I think this slogan, this reassurance you might say, is for all of us out there who think online dating is, well, just difficult to admit we’re interested in/doing.  It has a certain stigma still attached to it . (But that’s rapidly diminishing!  It is!  Almost gone!)  In which case, these four simple words are permission: go ahead.  Look.  See who’s here.  If they’re here, it can’t be weird/embarrassing/desperate.  Because we’re all here together.  Just try it once.  It’s kind of like peer pressure.  Or the way your mom used to try to get you to eat vegetables.

Nominee #2:  “It’s all about the O.”

Ha.  Dirty.

All the rest of you slogans suck, essentially, when compared to those two.



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