Friday’s Letters – February 15

friday's lettersDear Creator of That Computer Virus – My honest opinion?  You should be horsewhipped. Twice.  What gives?  What is the POINT of creating such a nuisance and setting it loose on the electronic world?

Dear IT Department Who Spent TWO DAYS Hunting and Exterminating Said Computer Virus –  You guys totally rock. Totally.

Dear Silly Internet Valentine Picture – You made my day. And Seriously?  Where can I get Alien Legos?  Because I am so totally there.

Alien Valentine

Dear Sister Pea – Ooooh! Your Valentine flowers were just beautiful! Lucky You!

Dear DirtBike – What’s the opposite of “Thank You”?  Whatever it is, that’s what I want to say to you for sharing your cold with me. I Love You Huge as a Moose, Son, but I DO NOT like having this cold. It’s making me crabby.

Dear Mr. Pea – You showed up at my office today and took me out to lunch!!  I love when I get to see you in the middle of the day!

Linking up with the Ladies at Suscipio.

Recognize your Moments of Grace.  Keep the Faith.

Friday’s Letters – January 18

friday's letters

Dear Masterpiece Theater – thank you ever so much for Downton Abby.  I seriously want to dress for dinner like that.   Actually, I’d like to dress like that for strolling the grounds of my mansion, for horseback riding, for conversing in my library, for having a picnic at my summer-house…


Dear Mr. Waldo – Yeah for you and the new job!  I’m 100% convinced that it was my glowing recommendation that landed you the position.

I'm just too cute!

I’m just too cute!

Dear Kasey – You’re doing  a great job learning how to behave inside.  We haven’t had any accidents in several days.  However, you really need to stop drinking a lot of water and then running around so fast that it comes back up again.  Especially if you’re right behind me.  You do need to stop fussing with the cat.  He’s displayed amazing patience with you to this point.   Keep it up, though, and he’s going to smack you with those spiffy claws and you won’t like it one bit.  You are going to focus this week on learning NOT to jump up and pace on top of the pool table.  And?  No matter how cute it is, you may not sleep curled up on top of tall chairs in the sunroom.

Dear DirtBike – I am so, so sorry your mountain bike broke. You worked very hard building it from spare parts.  I am extremely thankful that you didn’t impale yourself on the crosstube when the frame snapped.  Trips to the emergency room stink. We will help you scour the lists and find a new frame, and I’m sure The Architect will help you put her all back together again.

Linking up with the Ladies at Suscipio.

Recognize your Moments of Grace.  Keep the Faith.

For Amber – TheToad Story

Originally posted in October 2009.

Ahem. The Toad Story in all Its Gory Detail….don’t read if you’re squeamish.

My youngest son has always had a propensity for stashing stuff in his pockets. From the time he was big enough to stuff those chubby little fingers into a square of fabric, his pockets have been an unending source of unusual things – sprockets, odd inkpen parts, legos, nuts, bolts, acorns, matchbox cars, pieces of string, contraband gum and candy, snacks for later, dogfood kibble, screwdrivers and wrenches, sunglasses, homework, spare shirts, balls, transformers, trading cards…all the trappings of little-boyhood. The fact that I thought cargo pants with those over-sized patchy pockets were just too cute when he was little didn’t help with the pocket stuffing situation.

My youngest son also liked bugs and creepy crawlies, and tended to stuff THOSE in his pockets as well, regardless of their willingness to be carried along. I’ve found geckos, lizards, mice, snakes and innumerable unidentified insects in his pockets as I’ve prepped clothing for the wash cycle over the years. Three summers ago, there was toad in the cargo pocket, and I missed it on the way into the washing machine. Toads are definitely not wash and wear. The poor thing probably made it through the wash cycle, since we have a front loader that uses a minimum amount of water. The spin cycle, however, proved to be too much for his warty little self, and all his innards sort of came out his mouth. Gross. Youngest son and his older brother were amazed and impressed with the array of toad organs, and spent a long time examining them while I tried to be nonchalant, pretending that I was not actually allowing my sons to poke around in toad guts. (Honestly, how often do little boys get an opportunity to see the inside of a toad out side of high school biology lab?)

We buried Mr. Toad in the back yard, and I washed the clothes all over again.

EMail Anglea Pea