Guest Letter Wednesdays! Number Twenty-One.Dear CVS gift card

Dear CVS Gift Card,

Everyone seems to think you're a lame gift.

Well, y'know what?

Then THEY can spend their hard-earned money to buy me lame but necessary things like toothbrushes, deodorant, and shampoo. The point is, nobody WANTS to buy those things, but YOU make that possible at no actual cost to me!

Thank you CVS gift card!

Love,
Kate

Letter Number One-Hundred Eighty-One.

Dear American Dad,

You are...just...plain...awful.

But...you're...animated.

So I will continue watching you.

Love,
Kymba

Letter Number One-Hundred Eighty.

Dear Cereal,

It occurred to me this morning while eating a bowl of Wild Harvest Mango Crisp that you will probably save my life in the long run.

Thanks, friend.

Love,
Kymba

Letter Number One-Hundred Seventy-Nine.

Dear Knitting,

Ever since I decided to "try" crocheting, I've been promising knitter after knitter that I haven't abandoned the cause, that they still have an ally in front of them who has only taken up the hook for temporary investigation. But this pure curiosity has grown, and sometimes - I think you know where this is going - I just don't know if there's going back.

Love,
Kymba

P.S. I know it takes a third more yarn, but you take three times longer to do! Some of us are getting old too fast for this.

Letter Number One-Hundred Seventy-Eight.

Dear Crease In A Moleskine,

Thank you for being perpetual commentary to my inadequacies as an artist. Each day that I fail to draw a picture that takes up both sides of a page, or that nagging voice inside prohibits me from doodling "on the back of another drawing", I hear your maniacal laughter. Every time my pen is afraid to approach that rocky territory that might result in a crooked line I'll want to rip out, I visualize you, to quote Kate, "pissing in my Cheerios". My artistic Cheerios. I am TRAPPED on the right half of any given page, and you REFUSE to show me any compassion or mercy! DAMN YOUR SOULLESS UNEVENNESS!!!

Love,
Kymba

Letter Number One-Hundred Seventy-Seven.

Dear My Governor (Blago-Blago-Blagojevich),

I mean, no one thought you were going to suddenly start doing well, but I don't think we thought you'd start sucking more.

This might be premature, but really? Foo'.

Love,
Kymba

Letter Number One-Hundred Seventy-Six.

Dear Grandma,

This is the glorious day you were born.

It is also the glorious day 75 years ago when we repealed Prohibition via the 21st amendment.





I will be drunk-dialing you to sing "Happy Birthday" soon!

Love,
Kymba

Guest Letter Wednesdays! Number Twenty: Kate Helps My Eczema.

Dear Kym,

A mental collection of images for you, so you might hurt less.

Imagine yourself in a big, comfortable oatmeal bath that smells like mint and silly grasses and herbs. Maybe lemongrass and peppermint.

Your humidifier is on.

The room is...moderately warm. enough to be cozy, but not enough to be stuffy.

When you get out of the tub, there is huuuuuuge container of lotion that is a mixture between calamine, hydrocortisone, and cocoa butter. It's quite obviously a light shade of orangey peach, and a famous masseuse applies it to you so you don't have to move or put any efffort into it.

Thennnn...you get to wear a soft, comfy, sunset orange flannel onesie. You get served cocoa with marshmallows, and cool mint oreos.

Obviously a goofy movie is on TV.

Now, picture all of that and try to relax. Hopefully it'll ease a little of your pain. I love you!!!!!!

Love,
Kate

Letter Number One-Hundred Seventy-Five.

Dear Low-Fat Egg Nog,

You poor, sad little bastard.

Love,
Kymba