Thanks!
They send my brothers on missions. Chady-bear turns 20 tomorrow and I can’t see him because he’s in a foreign country serving God or something. And to make matters worse it’s against the rules to phone him.
Valentine’s Day dinner looked beautiful on the plate, however, later that night it didn’t look so pretty coming back up. It’s interesting that no one else got sick from the meal. And by “interesting” I mean ARLO IS TRYING TO KILL ME!
He’s got plenty of justifiable reasons to want me dead. In fact, the whole thing is rather ironic. Just yesterday, some friends and I were talking about how much grief I give Arlo. We agreed that if he did indeed kill me, no jury in the world would convict him. I’d like to think the reason he attempted to poison me wasn’t necessarily due to the fact I force him to watch bad reality TV with me, or the fact I tease him mercilessly, but because I burned the one portion of the dinner I was in charge of:
1) Sleeping in ten extra minutes, because there is no need to shave my legs.
2) My panties and bra don’t have to match.
3) I have a reason to listen to the Eels “Love of the Loveless” over, and over all day long.
4) The only flowers in my house are ones I’ve purchased myself, so there will be no sneezing due to allergies this year.
5) I don’t have to wear perfume, unless I want to.
6) No one is going to drag me to a steak house thinking I’ll be impressed, and then remember ten minutes into the meal I don’t eat steak.
7) The only gifts purchased for the holiday are those for myself.
8) I don’t have to try and have dainty girl eating habits at dinner tonight. I can pig out on Valentine’s Day candy and no one will care.
10) And best of all, I get to spend the evening with friends watching “Rock of Love” on Tivo. Though, if Arlo meets someone and falls in love within the next eight hours my evening is ruined.
My niece, Hannah, called me this morning to tell me that Santa brought her a brand new princess bed. She wasn’t kidding. I drove down this afternoon to see for myself and found her cuddled up with her dolls wearing a velvet princess costume. I asked her if there was room for me and she looked up with the sweetest face and said, “Yes and always, but NOT EVER BEN!” Which is totally fine since when I walked out I noticed Ben in Carter’s room begging him to trade beds. Not all surprising since Carter scored a race care bed. Ben is sorta weird and into all that Nascar crap.
Merry Christmas everyone! May you all be as happy as this little girl:
I was out doing some last minute shopping today. Stop. That’s a total lie. Let me start over…
I made a quick run to the liquor store after noticing I only had one bottle of wine in my house. That is completely unacceptable during the holidays, especially when my back-up-plan, Mrs. AK, is busy entertaining family.
Anyway.
The entire time I’m in the store I can hear a small child crying, but it wasn’t until I was in line behind her that I could understand what she was saying. “Buuuuutttttt, mom, I want a drink!” She wailed this over and over, occasionally swapping the word want for the word need. Her mother finally snapped and said, “NO! You don’t need a drink, I need a drink and we’re going straight home so I can have one!” At this point everyone started consoling the mother. One woman telling her we’ve all been through it. Another rubbing her back and telling her to take a deep breathe.
And I think that’s what the holidays are all about, consoling complete strangers because we’re all having a hard time getting through them.
In the middle of my front room is a pile of presents that need to be gift wrapped; only I keep forgetting to buy wrapping paper.
He finally made a contribution. He was supposed to buy something to add to the package we still haven’t mailed Chad, and a gift for Boy AK. He bought band aids. Yes, band aids: sushi and Jesus ones for Chad–Scooby-Doo, Curious George and regular ones for Boy AK. And since it’s the holiday season and you’re supposed to be charitable I told him he’d done an excellent job and didn’t call him a freak.
Dear Chady-Bear,
Insert one of the following holiday greetings, depending on when this arrives: Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Happy Easter!!
If you don’t get this by Christmas I’m really sorry, I spaced it. I’m fully aware of the fact I’m a crummy sister, but I’m all you’ve got so at least there’s no competition factor. And as much as we both love Holli, we only got her a few years ago. I was there from the start, changing your disgusting diapers, speaking of which I’m still regretting the day Ben fed you his corn.
I can’t believe you aren’t going to be here for Christmas. I hate that. I get that you love God but seriously gone for Christmas? This sucks. I haven’t been home to see the tree; I’m really hoping Mom didn’t pull the crap she did when Ben was on his mission: decorating a Christmas tree outside rather than one nside. Now that was a weird Christmas! I’ve told you this before, but going home without you there isn’t the same… I miss you. How many more minutes until you’re home? I’m not as excited this year as I have been in past years, and I think you being so far away may have something to do with it. I like having my brothers, Holli, and the kids close.
Mom said you wanted beef jerky and hot chocolate–good to see you’re still a freak. Cathy said you can find beef jerky in the liquor stores there, but I guess that’s probably against the rules, so I put two bags in. Mom also mentioned you needed warm gloves, but I’m lousy with all things winter so I’ll leave that one to her. I’m still sporting the stretchy Hello Kitty gloves I’ve had for years. I figured you wanted real gloves, not kid ones. But your real present is a promise from me… I promise to be better about writing you. I know you’re homesick and letters help, I relish in the fact I’m still ahead of Ben in that area!
I love you my sweet, little, Jesus-loving Chady-Bear! Happy holidays!!
Love,
Sissy
PS. The Victoria Secret Catalog was NOT my idea. Ben added it in at the last second, however, I didn’t stop him. Also, we sorta just threw random holiday cards from family. My fridge is full, so…
Dear Santa,
I’ve been a good girl, just ask the boys—they’ll tell you. So for Christmas this year I would like the following:
Pink or brown UGG boots
Paula Abdul to never, ever gain sobriety
A down payment for a new car or condo, your choice
Matching dishes for my kitchen
A kitchen
A first edition Dorothy Parker book
Lower gas prices
A pink terrycloth robe
Ben to have a normal haircut
Botox
Skinny thighs
A ring (Don’t worry Santa, I want something pink, nothing of the diamond sort.)
Pink Kitchen Aid to go in new kitchen
A Democrat as President
Gas prices to fall (Stop emailing me, it’s on here twice for a reason!)
Summer
Oh and some of that world peace people are always talking about would be nice.
Santa, I know you can’t give me everything on the list, especially a Democrat in office since I imagine you’re a Republican (I base this assumption on the fact you’re old, fat and white.). But Santa, that’s ok, I still love you. You also can’t do much about my thighs since that’s sorta between me, trainer Alaska Pat and the gym, but if you’re some sort of magician or baby Jesus than by all means go ahead.
Love,
Sarah
PS. It’s hard to set out cookies and milk without a proper kitchen to bake them in. I hope you don’t mind a vitamin and Diet Coke. I have plenty of both. If that’s not ok I can ask Arlo to whip you up something, but it would likely be something fancy, and Santa, you seem more of a down-to-earth-I-break-into-houses-for-a-living kind of guy.
