Monday, October 09, 2006

Open Letters

Dear Fall,

Words cannot sufficiently express my deep appreciation for your recent cooperation. The cloud cover, sans rain or excess breezes, has proved to be the perfect light diffuser for photography. Your gracious use of rain in the wee hours of the morning has served to keep everything looking and smelling clean and tidy outside, and yet has not dampened or soiled anything I've had set up outside.

If you could just keep this up for two more weeks, I will be eternally grateful. Rain, hail, wind, etc will be just fine in November, so long as they don't prevent us from going up to Berkeley and hanging out with our friends somewhere after I turn all of twenty-seven. (Twenty-seven...when did that happen? And how stoked am I that I was clever enough to go ahead and have my 'quarter-life crisis' two years ago, right at the two and a half decade mark.) In closing, I'd also like to thank you for being significantly less depressing than I've traditionally found you to be.

Thanks much and can't wait for the candy corn.


Dear Edie,

Please stop trying to "Houdini" your way out of every small crack of the door or potential open screen. You are almost pure white and every speck of dirt, spider web, or other gross item shows clearly on your coat. Also, you are not....intensely well-acquainted with The Great Outdoors, and are likely to get eaten, stolen or or run over the second you go outside. This would be A Bad Thing and your father, brother and I would be very, very tramatized by it. Also, stop chewing on the foam padding that lines your papa's DJ coffin. I've been picking up tiny bits of gray foam off the floor for days and your litterbox has been less than its' normal bundle of joy.

PS. We think you're the cutest little girl-squirrel in the world.

Dear Impending Holiday Season/"Winter",

Again may I say how very much Christmas sweaters, egg-nog, Norman Rockwell reproductions, the jolly Coca-Cola Santa Claus ads and those saccarine Christmas movies make me want to hurl. Since we don't have 'real seasons' here, I can't really get behind the cute chunky layered sweater/scarf/nice boots look, and end up just wearing jeans and a sweater and a scowl with sandals like always. Admittedly my heart is made of tar and little peices of ground-up glass, but my vote is to move right from candy and turkey on sale to a more handy month, like April.

PS. You better not rain on the 1st. Death March Day is sacred.

Love, your mom.

Dear Mooshi-Mooshi and other Family Members,

I know you visit me here. Why no comments? Just because you're in the other room doesn't mean you can't show me some love. STOP LURKING, for the love of Pete. It skeeves me out I seee youuuu and don't know what you think about this stuff.



Dear Everyone Who Meets Me For More than 2.5 seconds, including the intoxicated new father from Saturday who kept asking me if he or his friend was better looking,

Please try and look past the fact that I have a uterus that is not currently in use and see me as just a person. I also have a brain, many ideas and other interests, and feelings. Despite my somewhat witty responses to your repeated, rather intrusive questioning, said feelings are a bit bruised when you ask me why I'm not/I don't/when am I going to/how can I NOT/how can I say that I know I don't want to have a kid if I don't already haaave one. I was working that particular evening, not trolling around for your unsolicited opinions on my life choices.

PS. I bet your kid is ugly. Yes, I am mean. Maybe that is the best arguement in favor of my non-procreation. I am a mean and evil person who secretly thinks that 96 of out 100 newborn babies are frightenly ugly. Also, I've witnessed the 'miracle of birth' at close hand, twice, and it was miraculous that I didn't scoop out my eyes with a melon baller.


Chiada said...

I like the letters. It reminds me of grade school when we'd write letters to the author of a book we'd recently finished, or letters to love interests that would never be sent, and so on. Try living just one hour north of where you do and you'll be able to wear the chunky sweater, scarf, and boots for about 30 days of the year. Not yet, however. It's freaking hot up here, Mr. Bigglesworth. But wait 'til January/February rolls around, excepting that week in early January when we'll no doubt have mid-70's temps. That's my favorite time to lay out because 1) I'm ghostly white and need a few rays, and 2) I can hear the pine cones cracking open in the heat and falling to the ground. It's sweet. Happy Fall!

Meepers said...

I love doing the letters. So cathartic. Can't wait for a SUNNY January! PS Death March, death march...are you 'in training?" LOL

bee said...

i love the open letters concept, maya.
on the topic of people leaving you alone because you're not breeding yet (jaysus. what about freedom of choice, for crap's sake?), many newborn babies have heads squeezed into conehead shapes because they've been pushed through the birth canal (hee - i almost typed birthcontrol. freudian slip much?) - now, THAT'S fugly.

food for thought. and i love melon ballers. very useful.

Meepers said...

It's actually NOT the coneheads that bother me... those go away rather quickly (amazing how elastic those lil' sucker are, isn't it?) Its actually the (shudders) vernix and the weird shashy faces.

Lindsay said...

YEA YEA! you're mean, i'm mean...thats why i like you! woohoo!

the sightspeed guy said...

make them feel sorry for you. say, "i can't have kids. but i am accepting monetary donations."


Pony said...

Just so you know. I have had dreams about beating the caca out of those who insist upon asking The Question. Literally dreamt about punching and kicking those inconsiderate asses who do not realize that is not polite, the same as it is not polite to pick your nose and eat your boogers in the middle of dinner. Okay. You can love me even more now that I have commented. KISS KISS!