To The Redneck
When you first suggested a fundraiser to support Miranda’s Rescue, I immediately knew that I was in trouble. To clarify (for those who don’t know me) I am one of those weird people who don’t really get much enjoyment from pets. Maybe it’s because I’m always the one who cleans up after them. *sigh*. After the puppies, Rowdy’s constant dominance battle with his son, Roscoe, and Not My Kid’s huge Golden Lab, Flash, I am “dog tired” heh. But I’m not stupid. When you said “Honey, I was thinking….” and proceeded to outline a campaign to raise money for one of the most worthy places in the county, I knew. Like dreading the end of the world, I knew. We would be coming home with a dog. And sure enough….
It was as if it was meant to be.
Yeah. You can tell I’m all upset about it. Her name is Reba. Now, honey, please remember. I am NOT the pet person in the house. You are. The kids are. I’m just going to sit in my corner and protect my computer cords.
Yes, she’s cute. But she’s a dog. And I’m not a pet person. Right? Right? Why do I get the feeling no one is listening to me.
As a character, you are walking that fine line where my delete button might get too crazy. Remember. It’s my cluttered brain you have to talk to. Or you’ll never get written. So, start talking, dude, or I’m going to file you away and forget you.
To The Universe
I’m not feeling the love.
To Harry Connick Jr.
I just want to thank you for making a Christmas CD. It lightened my mood yesterday and it was loud enough to drown out the dirt faced okie boys on sugar. That’s sayin’ something.
To The Redneck