Cute, but I'm done with you. Go back to that northern city you hang out in. I am so sick of driving on packed snow, you have no idea. And the Let's Stay Below -20 For Weeks On End schtick? What do you think this is, MANITOBA? Also, lovely of you to wait until I have to drive to a hospital every freaking day before you give us a winter like this.
Dear Irish Hiking Scarf
It's not that I don't love you, all twelve abandoned rows of you. I just love the hats more. Please don't sob when I frog you - you're on the wrong size needles. But I promise we'll get together again soon. Sometime. Soon-ish. Really.
Swoon. (pics some other time)
Dear Gina Brown's Wool Shop:
Could you perhaps hide the Point Five the next time I'm in? I can't seem to stop making hats out of it. I now have three times as many hats as I have heads ...
Wow, all those dark chocolate covered cherries will likely make you very sick and give you diarrhea. Although that was three days ago, and you're showing no signs of illness ...BAD DOG. I must say, however, that you displayed remarkable initiative climbing up on the table and chewing through that shopping bag. (you are SO grounded - er, crated the next time I go out.)
Dear City Health Care System:
Really? You're going to take a 71 year old woman on a stretcher, in her nightgown (well your nightgown, really, but there's no need to quibble), in an ambulance, halfway across the city on a day when the roads are pure ice, just so someone can come and talk to her? How remarkably efficient of you.
Dear Consulting Surgeon:
Thank you for complimenting my mother on her feistiness. I don't remember much else of what you said, frankly, because I was so delighted that you saw the WOMAN and not the numbers. And you'd only seen her for five minutes in your entire life. Would you like a wee gift? A handknit hat, perhaps?
Dear Other Surgeon:
Thank you for considering surgery. Hopefully that last test you'd like to run first tells you what you need to know.
Dear Older Brother:
Thank you so much for being at the hospital today, and for so consistently helping our little family of three to hand this problem back to God, over and over again. I love you and respect you, and I'm glad you're my brother.
Dear People Who Read This Drivel:
All of you, the people I've met, and the ones I haven't, thank you for caring about what's going on at our house these days. I wish I were coping better, but you all, you help. Please keep praying for my mother.