Please magically clean yourself.
Also, if the front rooms are clean but the back rooms are not, does that make me a bad person?
I love you, but I don't love to clean you.
Dearest and most beloved cousin Mary Dawn,
Could you please leave your new and wonderful house in order to come and live with me? I just know that if you lived with me my house would be clean. Braden could come! Also, Ryan could visit. He would need to so that I can drill him on his bedside manner. I feel that is my sacred duty as favorite cousin-in-law. I promise that I would try to make life interesting, and I would make sure you got lots of Dairy Queen ice cream -- 'cause that's what we do here.
All my love,
Dear Double B,
Thanks for taking us on a family date last night. But have you noticed that in order to have a conversation I have to do like 98% of the talking? Believe it or not, I do get tiring of listening to my own voice. In fact, I find myself kind of annoying and then worry that you do, too. Maybe you could work on contributing. I really do care about what you have to say... like, a lot. Otherwise, you are very close to perfect.
I love you most fervently,
I would like to write a formal complaint about the dreams I have been having lately. I do realize that pregnancy hormones are a part of this, but really. I have decided I should document them everyday and make a national best-seller entitled: "The New 1,001 Nights." It would be like a horror/pyschotic/romantic thing. All in good time, people. Last night I dreamt that Ben escaped through a sewer line and my brother Jon and I had a screaming fight over whether he was a career criminal or not. Later I dreamed that my best friend from high school came and picked me up so that we could complete our goal of driving across the nation in reverse. We made it to Colorado before I woke up. I miss that kid! And I miss a peaceful nights rest. Please see what you can do, brain.
Hugs Not Drugs,
Dear Marjorie Pay Hinckley,
It is not an exaggeration to say that you are my real-life hero. I want to be like you in every way. I think you were practically a saint here on earth. A funny, quirky, adorable saint. Please say I will have some success in achieving some of your awesomeness by the time I am 90.
Dear Cherry Fritter,
You are just calling to me, aren't you -- you little vixen. Don't worry, I will eat you soon. I will then jump rope nine hundred times in September to get rid of you. It will be worth it.
Your #1 fan.
Hi. How are you today? Let's talk on the phone later or something.
I love you. I really do. I feel that you contribute to my happiness. Thank you for that. Also, please go to my friend Elise's blog and watch the jump-rope video on it, because Elise is hilarious and I don't know her but I love her, and this will be eight minutes of your life well spent.
That is all.