MY DEAR FABULOUS DAUGHTER,
Your father had a very busy week and hasn't been sleeping particularly well lately, so it wasn't surprising that after a beer and a few glasses of wine last night in the comfort of our friends' home and in the warmth of their gracious hospitality he began to look a little unsteady on his feet. I reminded him early on and again several times during the course of the evening that he was our designated driver; I had left my glasses behind and wouldn't be able to see well enough to drive home. Your dear father, however, ignored my not so subtle hints and continued enjoying more wine as he sat laughing and joking with our friends and their guests. Eventually he came upon the realization himself that perhaps he had overdone it somewhat and he left the dining room table to rest on a couch in family room where three darling little girls were watching a movie and playing with toys. The adults continued their various and boisterous conversations until we were hushed by one of our number redirecting our attention to the high pitched squealing and laughter of the little girls. We all listened and yes, indeed, they did seem to be enjoying a very good laugh about something. One of us sought out the source of the girls' delight and reported that your father had fallen asleep on the couch and the little girls were putting barettes in his hair. Of course we all had to have a look and there he was, slumped in a semi-upright position with a wee giggling girl sitting on either side of him. He wore pink barrettes in his hair, pillows stacked upon the top of his head, and a magic fairy wand lay across his lap. Soon a camera appeared and the girls were directed as to clever ways in which they might continue their fun with your hapless father. The next time I checked on your father he was sporting a long curling felt pen mustache, extraordinarily bushy eyebrows, and there emblazoned on the tip of his nose was the Star of Bethlehem. (Actually, darling, here I must confess that the curling moustache was my own contribution to the facial art.) More picture-taking ensued amidst hearty laughter, and through it all your father never so much as twitched or stirred a finger. The adults soon returned to their conversations and it wasn't until another half hour had passed that your father was finally awakened by the the little girls patting his face and repeatedly chanting, Hey mister, hey mister, wake up and look at your face!
Your father had the most bewildered look upon his black-felt-pen-festooned face when he rejoined the adults. He had a look in the mirror and loudly accused us all of taking advantage of a poor man wanting only to rest his eyes for a moment or two; we all joined him for another good laugh before I took him firmly by the arm and steered him toward the front door. We bundled up in our scarves and warm jackets, thanked our hosts for another entertaining evening, then, despite your father's protestations, we set out on our 20 minute walk home in the chilly air - I was exceedingly thankful I'd worn flat shoes, a thick scarf and a warm jacket.
As we travelled along the main street, we passed a bus that had broken down and I noticed several quizzical looks and smirks upon the faces of the disgorging passengers when they saw your father's charming face. I smirked a bit myself, thinking that your father's forgetting to remove the felt pen before heading home was a well-suited punishment for his crime of over indulgence. When at last we reached home I puttered around the kitchen for several minutes and your father headed straight to our bedroom. He was fast asleep in a lifeless heap when I climbed into bed. (Oh, I do believe I feel a limerick coming on...)
The next morning when I awakened I was more than a little amused to see your father's sleeping face still sported the curly-cued mustache, bushy eyebrows and starry nose. When at last he opened his bleary eyes and squinted at me I couldn't resist chastising him for failing to wash his face before collapsing into bed. He said, I did wash my face - this stuff won't come off. Egads I thought as I realized it was permanent marker with which I'd taken such delight in creating the swooping moustache!
The poor man spent an inordinately long time in the shower this morning scrubbing his face; there's just a hint of grayish decoration remaining and I'm quite sure it'll be gone before he leaves for work tomorrow...
Only two weeks left until we'll see your smiling face at Christmas!
LOVE AND KISSES FROM YOUR WONDERFUL MOTHER
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Friday, December 08, 2006
Feng Shui Follow-Up
HELLO MY FABULOUS DAUGHTER,
As you will recall, I recently embarked upon a chi-freeing mission on your father's side of the bedroom closet. I had utilized my skills as a creative seamstress to "fix" articles of deteriorated clothing, and when necessary I took scissors to offending items or poked my fingers through holes to enlarge them so that your dear father would better be able to recognize and acknowledge the item was at the end of it's usefulness. The result has been that upon occasion I have been awakened in the morning by your father's gentle chuckling, the odd cry of surprise and on more than one occasion by a sock ball bouncing off my head. However, clearly the most amusing discovery was when your father found the jeans I had so cleverly repaired for him. They had lain for some time neatly folded amongst his other jeans and were not discovered until I fell far behind on my laundry chores due to a vast array of preferable activities I chose to enjoy instead. Your father was hastily getting dressed in our large walk-in closet while your sister sat on the edge of our bed chatting with me about the forthcoming activities of the day. Our conversation was interrupted by a loud, "HEY!" coming from behind the closet doors which suddenly flew open. Your father stood before us in his repaired jeans ... your sister and I laughed heartily at the sight before us. I had repaired the holes in the knees of the jeans in such a way as to make the legs bend opposite that of a natural knee bend and as a result when your father put the jeans on they were extremely tight and bunched above each knee in the front and were pulled and bunched in a myriad of horizontal pleats above the knees in the back. This pleating shortened the jeans severely so that their hem fell just below your dear father's calves. He sported a look of annoyance on his face as he stood before us with his arms crossed over his chest, complaining loudly that I had ruined a perfectly good pair of jeans. Your sister was laughing so hard she fell off the edge of the bed and your father was soon laughing too when the fit of the jeans caused him to very nearly fall when he attempted to bend over to help your sister back to her feet.
Today when I was emptying the dryer, I was startled to discover a pair of your father's underwear, the backside of which I had recently and enthusiastically ripped from side seam to side seam. Do you suppose that early one morning this past week, when winter darkness helped to hide my "fixes" that the dear man actually wore this article of clothing to work ... ? I've neatly folded them once again and placed them in his drawer.
Looking forward to seeing you home for Christmas.
LOVE YOUR WONDERFUL MOTHER
As you will recall, I recently embarked upon a chi-freeing mission on your father's side of the bedroom closet. I had utilized my skills as a creative seamstress to "fix" articles of deteriorated clothing, and when necessary I took scissors to offending items or poked my fingers through holes to enlarge them so that your dear father would better be able to recognize and acknowledge the item was at the end of it's usefulness. The result has been that upon occasion I have been awakened in the morning by your father's gentle chuckling, the odd cry of surprise and on more than one occasion by a sock ball bouncing off my head. However, clearly the most amusing discovery was when your father found the jeans I had so cleverly repaired for him. They had lain for some time neatly folded amongst his other jeans and were not discovered until I fell far behind on my laundry chores due to a vast array of preferable activities I chose to enjoy instead. Your father was hastily getting dressed in our large walk-in closet while your sister sat on the edge of our bed chatting with me about the forthcoming activities of the day. Our conversation was interrupted by a loud, "HEY!" coming from behind the closet doors which suddenly flew open. Your father stood before us in his repaired jeans ... your sister and I laughed heartily at the sight before us. I had repaired the holes in the knees of the jeans in such a way as to make the legs bend opposite that of a natural knee bend and as a result when your father put the jeans on they were extremely tight and bunched above each knee in the front and were pulled and bunched in a myriad of horizontal pleats above the knees in the back. This pleating shortened the jeans severely so that their hem fell just below your dear father's calves. He sported a look of annoyance on his face as he stood before us with his arms crossed over his chest, complaining loudly that I had ruined a perfectly good pair of jeans. Your sister was laughing so hard she fell off the edge of the bed and your father was soon laughing too when the fit of the jeans caused him to very nearly fall when he attempted to bend over to help your sister back to her feet.
Today when I was emptying the dryer, I was startled to discover a pair of your father's underwear, the backside of which I had recently and enthusiastically ripped from side seam to side seam. Do you suppose that early one morning this past week, when winter darkness helped to hide my "fixes" that the dear man actually wore this article of clothing to work ... ? I've neatly folded them once again and placed them in his drawer.
Looking forward to seeing you home for Christmas.
LOVE YOUR WONDERFUL MOTHER
Monday, December 04, 2006
A Dishwashing Memory
MY DEAR FABULOUS DAUGHTER,
This is nothing new but is rather a memory that just popped into my head as memories tend to do for some reason when Christmas is fast approaching.
Your sister was about 7 years old and was in the habit of avoiding household chores. One night after dinner, however, when your father and I were watching a movie we had rented, your sister took it upon herself to push our little footstool up to the sink and wash the oily spaghetti pots and pans that lay within its confines. When our movie ended your dad and I walked up the stairs from the TV room and were very surprised to see there were freshly washed pots and pans in the dishrack. Your sister, who had been waiting nearby for us to make this delightful discovery, proudly stepped before us and announced that she had done all this washing herself. We of course congratulated her on a job well done and told her how very grown up she was to take the initiative to pitch in where help was needed. She beamed with pride and her little body seemed to actually swell with her growing self-esteem. It was a proud and happy moment for all of us.
I later noticed the pots and pans didn’t actually look clean at all and the rubber dishwashing gloves were not only wet inside, but the fingertips were filled with water. When I asked your sister to describe her dishwashing method, she proudly declared that she had filled the gloves with warm water so as to better keep her hands warm while she washed the pots and pans in icy cold water.
You've got to have a great appreciation for those who think outside the box.
Have a good day at work - I trust your two- and three-year-old students are mastering their dance steps for the forthcoming Christmas concert. I will look forward to photographs.
LOVE YOUR WONDERFUL MOTHER
This is nothing new but is rather a memory that just popped into my head as memories tend to do for some reason when Christmas is fast approaching.
Your sister was about 7 years old and was in the habit of avoiding household chores. One night after dinner, however, when your father and I were watching a movie we had rented, your sister took it upon herself to push our little footstool up to the sink and wash the oily spaghetti pots and pans that lay within its confines. When our movie ended your dad and I walked up the stairs from the TV room and were very surprised to see there were freshly washed pots and pans in the dishrack. Your sister, who had been waiting nearby for us to make this delightful discovery, proudly stepped before us and announced that she had done all this washing herself. We of course congratulated her on a job well done and told her how very grown up she was to take the initiative to pitch in where help was needed. She beamed with pride and her little body seemed to actually swell with her growing self-esteem. It was a proud and happy moment for all of us.
I later noticed the pots and pans didn’t actually look clean at all and the rubber dishwashing gloves were not only wet inside, but the fingertips were filled with water. When I asked your sister to describe her dishwashing method, she proudly declared that she had filled the gloves with warm water so as to better keep her hands warm while she washed the pots and pans in icy cold water.
You've got to have a great appreciation for those who think outside the box.
Have a good day at work - I trust your two- and three-year-old students are mastering their dance steps for the forthcoming Christmas concert. I will look forward to photographs.
LOVE YOUR WONDERFUL MOTHER
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
