FeeFiFoto Blog

A Letter To Some Of My Friends

Dear Some (Not All) of My Friends:

We all know it's a bummer to expect a phone call, wait for a phone call, but not receive a phone call.  If it's all the same to you, I'm going to stop calling you to catch up and get together, because waiting for you to return my calls is a bummer.  Some of you remind me of those guys who seemed to enjoy my company but never called for a second date.   

I know you're busy; we all are.  We don't circulate in precisely the same circles; our kids are different ages or in different schools; we may not live near each other.  We're tickled to meet by accident; we swear we'll get together soon, but I feel like I'm the one who always picks up the phone to arrange something.  Frankly, calling you and hoping for a return phone call depresses me.

I think I'm a good friend.  I'm always available if you need help or want to talk; when I have to find out what you're up to by talking to other friends or reading your Facebook updates, it hurts my feelings not to be included.  You say you feel terribly guilty about not keeping in touch and promise you'll call me, but you don't.

I'm not angry.  I am, however, disappointed that we seem to see each other twice a year and mostly at my instigation.  I get annoyed when I leave you a happy birthday message and you don't even acknowledge that.

Don't misunderstand me; I love you all dearly.  I'll be there for you if you ever need me, but you'll have to let me know you need me because I won't be checking in.  My affection for you hasn't changed, but I can tell I'm not on the top of your to do list and I accept that.  If I want to be mercilessly honest with myself, I've sensed it for a long time and it has always made me sad.  Maybe now there'll be a little less sadness clouding my days, since I'll no longer be expecting and hoping to hear from you.

Feel free to get in touch with me any time you want.  I promise I'll return your call.

Love, Me

A Letter To The Dog Re: Gender Confusion

Dear Miss Puppy:

You're not fooling anybody.  Even though you lift your leg at every tree, shrub, lamppost, mailbox, trash can and daffodil, nobody believes you're a boy dog, not even for a moment.  Know how I know?

Pink collar.  It's a dead giveaway.

Just keep telling yourself: "I'm a girl.  I'm a girl.  I'm a girl."

Favorites Of 2010

Recapping some of my favorite posts of 2010, because I'm not Allie Brosh* and no one else will do it for me

A List Of My Favorite Posts From 2010
Which Should Carry Exactly As Much Weight As
When The Waitress Confides Her Favorite Menu Items
But It's My Blog So If You Don't Like It Get Your Own Blog

In January, there was the time I bargained for that dress.  Remember when I bargained for the dress?  It's a cute dress.  In fact, I'm wearing it right now.  I'm a bit concerned that if I don't praise the dress while wearing it, it might rise up and throttle me as I doze with my face pressed into the keyboard and unintentionally type hgyhygggggggggggggg: In This Economy, Retailers Are Smart To Bargain.

In February, the car broke down due to an electrical malfunction which had absolutely nothing to do with my leaving the lights on, which I did because the warning dinger didn't ding because there was an electrical malfunction (see above): Is There Ever A Convenient Time For The Car To Break Down? (Hint: there isn't).

In March, the entire airport broke down, which again was not my fault and furthermore had nothing to do with electrical malfunctions or electricity of any kind.  Except maybe lightning: Weather Disruptions Worked In Lindsay Vonn's Favor...

In April, we touched on the colors of travel (hint: there's lots of blue): Blue Is The Color Of Heaven

In May, I had some advice for the varmint population in our yard on how to appear less blockheaded: Letters of Advice.

In June, Robespierre became a Bar Mitzvah.  I wrote a lot about the subject (you try throwing a Bar Mitzvah without raving even while sleeping); here is one of my favorite posts on the subject: Superhero Or Super Villain -- Choose Wisely.

In July, I Shot An Elephant In My Pajamas, which degenerated into an existential discussion of grammar. With this post I received one of my favorite comments of all time from Ivan Toblog: Written, your statement would have to say something like, "Don't use that spoon. I killed a fly with it."

In August, I did some reading: More Of What I've Been Reading Lately.

In September, some of us got stuck in the mud.  Fortunately, we got out and lived to tell the tale: Sorry We Weren't In Touch Last Weekend. We Were Swamped.

In October, I discussed why cell phones rock: Why I LOOOOVE My Cell Phone.

In November, I unveiled my FeeFiFoto Fundraising program: Need To Raise Money For Your Organization? Here's My Proposal.

In December, I remembered that I forgot to have the sprinklers turned off before the first freeze: My Mistake.

*Of Hyperbole and a Half.  Last year I compared myself to Dooce but I don't like Dooce and never have, so I'm happy to be able to compare myself (heh) to someone I admire instead.

Do you have a favorite 2010 post?  Of mine?

Semi-Wordless Wednesday: New What?

Exactly what is this New Look! ?  Should I care that the logo or box has a new design?  And if it's not a new package, what's happened to my orange juice?  Is it blue now?  If so:

Dear M!nu+e Ma!d:

I don't eat blue foods.

Thank you.

Would you drink blue juice?

Letters of Advice

Dear Squirrel Population:

Thanks ever so much for selflessly furnishing an abundance of oak tree volunteers which will, in the next decade or so and at no cost, replace the many mature trees in my yard that will inevitably fall, although I hope not on the garage while the kids or I are in the car.  Might I offer a suggestion, however, to facilitate your future acorn-burying and retrieval protocol?

Next fall, when acorns are plop-plop-plopping to the ground and you're amassing and hiding them as if you were Jesse James stashing loot, why not make a mental note of where you're putting them?  This way, you (or your relatives if you happen to be eaten by a hawk, but we won't discuss that) will be able to find them next spring and they won't be blooming into hundreds of tiny oaklets right next to my sidewalk or house foundations.

I know you must have a lot on your little squirrley minds right now, what with the kids clamoring that they're bored and there's nothing to eat in the nest, so I've come up with a tool that might help you keep track of your groceries.

Why not try a few of these:

Or, if you prefer a more graphic reminder, how about this:

I can provide Sharpies in any color you choose.

_____________________________________________________________

Dear Moles:

I know your life is hard, what with digging underground all the time without knowing where you're going and having to eat ants and worms every day, but may I intrude on the execution of your labors with a friendly observation:

You see, Moles, Miss Puppy takes her profession very seriously, which I might have thought you'd have deduced after having spent an entire day bending over a hot stove preparing Worms Bolognese for guests who never arrived, since they'd been shaken senseless out in the yard and would never eat worms again. 

My advice?  Stay out of the yard.

If you need assistance finding your way to the other side of the fence, let me know and I'll bury a couple GPS devices in the garden.  I can even mark them with Post-Its.

_____________________________________________________________

Dear Ants:

We all know you gravitate to dark, sheltered places to raise your families, so as to avoid spiders and lizards and armadillos.  And I understand you initially believed that setting up housekeeping inside the lid of my composter was a smashing idea.  But after two weeks of daily scrambling to gather up kids, pets, Grandpa and XBox every time I open the lid to dump garbage, why haven't you realized that you made a mistake in selecting the composter as your summer home?  Sometimes it's best to just cut your losses, relocate, and let the bank take over the property.

Just keep an eye out for the moles.  They have GPS.

Dear State Senator

Dear State Senator:

Next time you're standing on the Senate floor debating a fellow state senator and hoping to make yourself appear big and important and well-informed and stuff, and you describe yourself as a Jesse James aficionado and announce that Jesse James, in an interview, once said he robbed banks because that's where the money is, please be aware of the following:

1. Jesse James (the outlaw Jesse James, not Sandra Bullock's husband), one of the most notorious outlaws in United States history, was never interviewed by anyone for any reason.  With a $5000 bounty on his head offered by the Missouri governor, no one would have bothered to "interview" him when they only had to bring him in dead or alive to collect a substantial reward.
2. The outlaw who supposedly claimed to rob banks because "that's where the money is" was Willie Sutton, 1901-1980.
3. Anyone claiming a childhood fascination with Jesse James (the outlaw Jesse James, not Sandra Bullock's husband) ought to know the difference.
4. When you bungle a quotation supposedly made by someone on whom you claim a degree of expertise, you make yourself look like a blockhead.

Thank you for your support.

Strangers On A Train: Obnoxious Travelers

Dear Man Who Sat With Me And My Boys For Breakfast On The Train:

The motivation for this letter has almost nothing to do with your profuse ear and nose hair, although really -- could ya visit the barber once a month?  Seriously, dude, I've seen my father get haircuts.  I know barbers can get rid of all that volunteer hair in your ears and your nose and on your eyebrows and neck... and by the way, that combover suggestive of a Dairy Queen vanilla soft serve sundae? 

Not working and not fooling anybody.  Please do yourself your dining companions a favor: see a barber.

Well, okay, maybe not that one. Still, a haircut once a month couldn't hurt, and might make you a little more comfortable with yourself and a little less abusive to strangers.

Anyway.

Dear Mr. Person Whose Name I Don't Know And Would Try Really Hard To Forget If I Did Know It:

I know it can be awkward to be seated with complete strangers on a train.  Heck, it was awkward for us too.  Still, it's more comfortable and tolerable for all involved if conversation not be dominated by any one particular person at the table (not naming names here because I never even learned yours, but ...).  Further, the rules of etiquette recommend that, even if you maintain the personal opinion that a private school education is somehow inferior to an education from a public school, you might want to consider keeping that opinion to yourself when holding a conversation with children who attend private schools.  And their mother/aunt.

Finally, and please forgive me if I'm overreaching here, but it seems to me that it might be easier to maintain positive relationships if you don't attempt to stump a 6th grader and a 7th grader with obscure geography and history questions and then triumphantly declare that their education is "deficient" when they don't glibly call up the answers to your questions.  Just a guess here.

Hey, thanks for listening, and in case you were unable to hear what I said because of the jungle inside your ears, remember: your local barber can work wonders for less than $20.

Have a nice day.

A Letter To The Dog

Dear Miss Puppy:

Remember that time I said I was afraid of the high energy of pit bulls and preferred couch potatoey dogs that would just wait patiently to be patted?  And remember how your contract clearly stated that your breed, Tibetan Terrier, would exactly fit the couch potato job description, and therefore you wouldn't require an excessive amount of activity?  Remember all that?

Well, what happened yesterday when I had that cookie in my hand and asked you to lie down and you rocketed into the air and grabbed the cookie, biting my finger in your excitement?

I was just wondering.

PS: if you have a moment, click on the first link in this post.  It's funny.

A Note To Our New President

Dear President-Elect Obama:

This young man wants to interview you.  He presents himself professionally and intelligently.  Please consider meeting with him.  Remember -- it's always good to have the press on your side.

Thanks to Jeanne Sager at Strollerderby

Thursday Thirteen: Dear Santa

1. To Santa, Our names are Chris, Sarah and John. Chris is 12, Sarah 11 and our little brother john is 4. We have all been really good this year, excpet maybe John sometimes. We have put up our Christmas tree and we got to put the decorations on. We have bought mum and dad a present and also our granny. Hopefully we will get lots of good presents for Christmas. It doesnt matter is you cant get us every thing we asked for. We will be happy with anything. Love Chris, Sarah and John P.S We will leave out some carrots for the reindeer.
2. DEAR SANTA CLAUS,I KNOW THAT YOU ARE NOT REAL BUT I'M 11 AND I DON'T BELIEVE ANYMORE, BUT IT WAS GREAT WHEN I DID O.K. BYE, HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS. *VERONICA* FROM: THE GREAT US OF A *
3. hellow Santa why do you put coal in kids stockings? 
4. I want 2 male guinea Pigs more than anything I know I will get em but I would love you to be on backup just in case
5. I love you vary much I want 37 things. 
6. Dear Mr and Mrs Claus it must be nice there at the North pole if i ever could go there i would it seems so preety there well i got go eat a snak Love ya Lauren
7. dear santa for christmes i want 100 barbies and 20 dolls. i want play do and a gold neclece. and i most want a cd player and i promes i wont brak it. from michelle (& after a little reprimand from Santa... Michelle writes back) dear santa im sorry about being gredy. insted i want 1 barbie an 1 doll an the other 99 barbies be gave to por people and the 19 dollys too. and i realy want mommy and daddy to give me a litle baby sister..please? i wont drop her and i will even chang dipers
8. dear Santa, Hi it is Erin I just wanted to know if I was on the bad or good list . e mail me back ERIN p.s.SANTA PLEAS GIVE ME SOMING GOOD.
9. I would love to be able have my grandma come visit on Christmas. She is all by herself in florida. Could you bring her here? oh, and can you get some toys too so I can play with her? thanks Sydney
10. DOUG I HAVE BEEN A GOOD BOY WAS ONLY BAD A FEW TIMES SORRY
11. hi i just want a suprise for Christmas but what do YOU want for Christmas bye keep on smiling :) :) p.'s im a girl and my name is Ayla
12. dear santy, r frend says ur not reel. r u? luv, megan and edith
13. Hi Santa... My kids have been brats....

from Growley.com

I'm Verklempt

Love letter from my daughter

This is what I found in Cleo's locker Tuesday night during the school Open House:

"Dear Mom,

    I don't know about you, but so far I like third grade.  A lot.  Everything is great.  Don't you think?  I am very excited to learn new things.  The only sad part is, I miss my teachers from 2nd grade.  Am I going to let a bump in the road get me down?  No.  Why? Because we are already learning and having fun.  I have a feeling an awesome year is coming.  Can't you feel it?

                Your best and only daughter ever,

                Cleo."

Where did this kid come from?

Visit Cleopatra-Queen-Of-The-Nile at her blog, The Big Hannah Montana Fan.

Airtime

Catching up on some pressing correspondence

Dear Family-Sitting-Behind-Me on today's four-hour flight:

Just a friendly suggestion: when you seat your toddlers next to each other on an airplane and they begin fighting, screaming and bashing each other, it might be a good idea to separate them.  Here's how it might work:

Grownup ---------- Toddler A ---------- Toddler B

becomes:

Toddler A ---------- Grownup ---------- Toddler B

or, alternatively:

Toddler B ---------- Grownup ---------- Toddler A

Either way this might help prevent the scenario in which your toddlers, as they engage in a fight to the finish, also engage in kicking the seats of the people in front of them (otherwise known as "me"); slamming their tray tables into the seats of the people in front of them (also otherwise known as "me"); and shrieking into the ears of the people in front of them (again otherwise known as "me").

Thank you for your support.

Yours truly, ME

Dear Family-Sitting-Across-The-Aisle-From-Me on today's four-hour flight:

My congratulations to you on having the foresight to pack a laptop computer and a couple movies on DVD to entertain yourselves as you drink your way back home.  Here's a little suggestion that just occurred to me right now:

Wouldn't it be fun if next time you either:

a.  Brought along a set of three-way earphones, or

b.  Took advantage of your disc's nifty closed-captioning feature

so that the people sitting across from you (once again, "me") wouldn't be privy to the helicopter noise and machine gun sound effects of whatever war movie makes your imbibing more enjoyable.

Just a thought.

Fondly, ME