Dear Santa:

14 Dec

Is it too much to ask for a husband who will eat the brown food I cook without psyching himself up at the table as if he were a Polish dead lifter at the 1976 Olympic Games?  (Host city: Montreal.)

For a teenager who will sit in a car next to me without crunching himself up against the passenger door to get as far away from me as physically possible whilst being transported to his next big thing?

For one Christmas cookie with the satiating power to stave off a butter binge/self-loathing/bad skin/New Year’s resolution-diet-exercise-screw it, this is the new me/bathing suit shopping/cycle?

A day without crazy?  I know, even I haven’t been that good.  For goodness’ sake.

Sincerely~

I still believe*,

Me.

* Believe, that is, that while in Middle School had I gotten real Calvin Klein jeans instead of flea market knockoff Kevin Clem brand, I could have done more with my life.  Nevertheless, bygones.   And a Happy New Year.

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One Response to “Dear Santa:”

  1. ydaf December 17, 2011 at 1:24 am #

    Dear Writer,

    Some details are not clear. What is this brown repastyou are serving your husband? your child cringing from child abuse? not amusing.

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