Dear Red Robin waitress,
Thank you for being patient with Bartle, Party of Seven tonight. As we ordered our meal, you gestured to the melee at our table and said, "Wow...I'd be like, "AHHH!" with all of this, and you're like chill. That's cool."
Well, we're not always "chill," but we try. It helped that Granny paid for the experience (and the food.)
P.S. I was unreasonably disappointed that we left our take-out boxes behind until I threw up my entire dinner. I'm pretty sure I won't be eating at your establishment again for a while.
Sleepless in Colorado Springs
Dear Women's Conference talk,
I have so many ideas for you, but also have limited energy, stamina, and mental capacity. Even though I don't have to present you for almost three months, I am beginning to wonder when you will develop into something other than notes on a legal pad. Feel free to write yourself up one of these days so I can relax.
Dear wind chimes,
You are the only happy thing about the weather right now. Outside the temperature is something ridiculous, like -6 degrees (and I'm not exaggerating this time). With the wind chill, I'm sure it's much less. Sheesh! I am cold just thinking about being you.
I am super grateful for my heater, which now has a functional pilot light thanks to Garry's mad skillz.
Dear sweat pants,
You (all of the many pairs of you) are my favorite articles of clothing. You make difficult days more comfortable. You make me forget about my expanding waist line. You are especially convenient at nap time and bedtime, which no longer require a change in attire. You are also very versatile during the day, serving as lounge wear at home and impromptu public duds when Zachary suddenly needs parental assistance to walk into his classroom from the car. It's always nice to greet the assistant principal knowing I look my best.
You are my favorite. I think you should move in, at least temporarily. Not only are you the Jack-of-all-trades when it comes to housework and child care, you are a friend and a comforting influence to me. Life on the couch is so much brighter with you here.
I understand that my Mesa-dwelling father, five siblings, three siblings-in-law, five nieces and nephews; your numerous friends; the MHS choir booster club; the Primary presidency; and the Kimball Stake girls camp staff (to name a few) would all miss you tremendously if you moved to Colorado. And I know you detest the cold. But I hope you'll consider it anyway.