Dear Someone to whom I’m married:

The hubz, better known around these parts as Jesse-Bear,

 

Thanks for driving the whole way to New Jersey, as well as the whole way back. Also, thanks for letting me nap a bit even though you drove the whole way. And thanks for turning around so we could visit the candy store. Oh, and thanks for the fudge, too. You know what? Thank you for ALL THE THINGS. You are the best husband I ever had! I love you, Babes!

 

 

Dear Someone plural:

Carol Lynn + Ralph,

 

We really did enjoy not having our brains and/or livers eaten as you drove us back to the train station. Thank you for excellent conversation peppered with great comedy routines, scary GPS moments, middle finger exchanges, and a reason to upgrade our vehicle (your car is seriously BADASS). But really, you had us at Daleks.

 

 

Dear Someone who offered us a place to stay next time we’re in New York:

Jennifer,

 

Really? I am floored at your kindness. Your offer is simply amazing. Seriously — for all you know, the hubz and I could be the serial killers we assumed Carol Lynn + Ralph to be. Imma have to step up my game to earn all this kindness that keeps coming our way. (And, thank you, Jennifer! Really!)

 

 

Dear Someone who is finally old enough to vote:

My son,

 

While you are free to vote for which ever candidate most closely matches your needs, I will throat punch you if I learn you went Republican. Just kidding! Maybe. Please don’t go Republican. (And I love you, even if you did pose for a picture with duck lips to make fun of all the girls who do that to their cameras.)

 

 

Dear Someone who may not live to see voting age:

My daughter,

 

Screaming at me from the top of the stairs is so, so mean and shitty of you. I am always afraid the cops will think that somehow, from the bottom of the stairs, my arms are able to reach up the staircase and smack you around. I wish you would muffle that crap in a pillow or something. Or, you know — like maybe not get that mad in the first place? Just a thought.

 

You asked me a serious question, so I will give you a serious answer.

 

“WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO CLEAN UP MY OWN MESS?!”

 

You know what? I lied, baby girl. I don’t have a serious answer. Because that question is frigging hilarious. And one day, you will be old enough to vote, and I will remind you of this question, and you will cringe with embarrassment. *awesome-ness*

 

 

Dear Someone who has thumbs:

Dagny, my polydactyl delight,

 

You are so fucking cool.

 

 

Dear Someone whom I miss:

My sister,

 

I love you.

 

 

Dear Someone who “thumbed” my story on StumbleUpon:

All you voter-type readers,

 

You rock the webby-webs. Is “Thank You” big enough to capture my gratitude? Methinks nay, friends. Nay, ‘tis not nearly big enough. Which leaves me indebted, damn you.

 

If you haven’t voted yet, be sure to click here and give my story “Green Market” the thumbs-up. You’ll need a StumbleUpon account — it’s free to set up.

 

 

Dear Someone called “Insomnia”,

 

You suck and I hate you. Please let me go. It’s 3am. You’re just being a dick.

 

Comments

comments