Love Letters
Dear Patients of Last Week,
While it was nothing but an unmitigated pleasure and a true delight to spend 15 minutes with each of you locked in a tiny exam room listening with rapt attention to the particulars of your sputum (purulent), your body aches (extreme) and your fevers (impressive), I'd have really preferred that you'd kept your mask (kindly provided and requested to be keep in place by our friendly and courteous reception staff) on rather than removing it as soon as the nurse was out of the room. Your well-meant touch of asking me why doctors don't get sick was so very humorous that we both laughed heartily, especially after I replied that I was just getting over my 8th bout of illness since October and then stared pointedly at your pointless mask, dangling from it's elastic band at the level of your sternum.
When I next get a bout of severely unpleasant gastroenteritis, I shall be sure to have you over to share a piece of cake and drink out of the same cup of friendship.
Big, wet smooches!
Diana
(You know, that lady doctor)
-----------------------------------------------------
Dearest Neighbor Steve,
You are the bestest neighbor anyone could have and have such a nice large pack of dogs. While we all think Bad Dog Bailey is a sweetheart (well, except Molly-dog, who hates her with the fire of 1000 suns), we think she's more of a sweetheart when she's in her own yard (about 200m away as the dog runs, and runs she does, through the tick-infested tall grass that separates our lands) and not making Molly throw herself against the windows with alarming violence and much spittle. It is also less than joyful when we let said Molly out to relieve herself (after carefully going out ourselves to scout for any wandering canines that would tempt her to badness in the bitter cold), only to have Bad Dog Bailey come trotting from around the side of our house as soon as Molly is let loose. After a half an hour of me trying to get now Bad Dog Molly to get the hell into the house, I am forced to give up and return to warmth and light. Sorry And Frozen And Oh-So-Hungry Dog Molly does finally agree to come in, an hour later.
Please don't take it as anything but a gesture of good will when you see the unsightly high cement wall that we've constructed along our shared property line that is topped with broken glass and razor wire. Good fences and good neighbors and all that.
As you've already lost one lovely pup in your growing pack to a passing car (Poor Maisy, we hardly knew her), we've made a deal with our florist so that for every 5th bouquet of dead-dog lillies we send to you, we get a 6th free! So, that's good, yes?
Yours in Dogginess,
Diana
(You know, the one married to Charles, the mother of your son's friend, the one you studiously ignore when in company together?)
-------------------------------------------
Dear Mad-Kitty,
While I think you are the world's best cat and find most of your antics hilarious, (like the one where you jump out and grab me from behind, around the knee and then skitter off, leaving me to pick myself and whatever I had in my arms up from off the floor, you little dickens) this does not mean that you get to be pissy when, unbeknown to me, you've chosen to bury yourself under Sara's bedclothes and then are launched into the air in the middle of a nap, when I go in to turn down her covers. Your pointing out that you clearly make a (very small) lump in the rumpled bed does not bear weight in this circumstance. You are roughly the size of any one of the 107 dolls and stuffed animals that inhabit her bed and are indispensable to her peaceful slumbers.
If you choose to lurk and nap thus, you will be unceremoniously tossed, again and again.
Yours in fond nappage,
Diana
(You know, the one who feeds you and makes the bed all warm for you.)
---------------------------
Dear Driver of a Subcompact Last Night,
Hello!
Let me introduce myself. I am the white knuckled driver of the large minivan, driving home last night in the snowstorm at dusk. There was no one behind me, nor anyone in the approaching two lanes of the highway when you, coming out of the side street as the highway passed through your small Wisconsin town, pulled out right in front of me.
Whee! Wasn't that fun! We nearly collided! I nearly slid into the median as I cursed loudly and tapped the breaks as hard as I dared, fishtailing away! Such a hoot! I know you were just being neighborly and, as I've memorized your license plate, and it's a very small world, not to mention a very small town, I'm sure you won't take it amiss if I flick a lighted cigarette in your window next summer. I don't smoke, but after last night, I felt compelled to start.
Yours in future emphysematous rapture,
Diana
(You know, the one driving the fishtailing minivan, wishing for a third hand, so she could have waved a middle finger at you without taking the necessary two hands off the wheel last night.)
-----------------------------------
Now where's the damn stamps?
While it was nothing but an unmitigated pleasure and a true delight to spend 15 minutes with each of you locked in a tiny exam room listening with rapt attention to the particulars of your sputum (purulent), your body aches (extreme) and your fevers (impressive), I'd have really preferred that you'd kept your mask (kindly provided and requested to be keep in place by our friendly and courteous reception staff) on rather than removing it as soon as the nurse was out of the room. Your well-meant touch of asking me why doctors don't get sick was so very humorous that we both laughed heartily, especially after I replied that I was just getting over my 8th bout of illness since October and then stared pointedly at your pointless mask, dangling from it's elastic band at the level of your sternum.
When I next get a bout of severely unpleasant gastroenteritis, I shall be sure to have you over to share a piece of cake and drink out of the same cup of friendship.
Big, wet smooches!
Diana
(You know, that lady doctor)
-----------------------------------------------------
Dearest Neighbor Steve,
You are the bestest neighbor anyone could have and have such a nice large pack of dogs. While we all think Bad Dog Bailey is a sweetheart (well, except Molly-dog, who hates her with the fire of 1000 suns), we think she's more of a sweetheart when she's in her own yard (about 200m away as the dog runs, and runs she does, through the tick-infested tall grass that separates our lands) and not making Molly throw herself against the windows with alarming violence and much spittle. It is also less than joyful when we let said Molly out to relieve herself (after carefully going out ourselves to scout for any wandering canines that would tempt her to badness in the bitter cold), only to have Bad Dog Bailey come trotting from around the side of our house as soon as Molly is let loose. After a half an hour of me trying to get now Bad Dog Molly to get the hell into the house, I am forced to give up and return to warmth and light. Sorry And Frozen And Oh-So-Hungry Dog Molly does finally agree to come in, an hour later.
Please don't take it as anything but a gesture of good will when you see the unsightly high cement wall that we've constructed along our shared property line that is topped with broken glass and razor wire. Good fences and good neighbors and all that.
As you've already lost one lovely pup in your growing pack to a passing car (Poor Maisy, we hardly knew her), we've made a deal with our florist so that for every 5th bouquet of dead-dog lillies we send to you, we get a 6th free! So, that's good, yes?
Yours in Dogginess,
Diana
(You know, the one married to Charles, the mother of your son's friend, the one you studiously ignore when in company together?)
-------------------------------------------
Dear Mad-Kitty,
While I think you are the world's best cat and find most of your antics hilarious, (like the one where you jump out and grab me from behind, around the knee and then skitter off, leaving me to pick myself and whatever I had in my arms up from off the floor, you little dickens) this does not mean that you get to be pissy when, unbeknown to me, you've chosen to bury yourself under Sara's bedclothes and then are launched into the air in the middle of a nap, when I go in to turn down her covers. Your pointing out that you clearly make a (very small) lump in the rumpled bed does not bear weight in this circumstance. You are roughly the size of any one of the 107 dolls and stuffed animals that inhabit her bed and are indispensable to her peaceful slumbers.
If you choose to lurk and nap thus, you will be unceremoniously tossed, again and again.
Yours in fond nappage,
Diana
(You know, the one who feeds you and makes the bed all warm for you.)
---------------------------
Dear Driver of a Subcompact Last Night,
Hello!
Let me introduce myself. I am the white knuckled driver of the large minivan, driving home last night in the snowstorm at dusk. There was no one behind me, nor anyone in the approaching two lanes of the highway when you, coming out of the side street as the highway passed through your small Wisconsin town, pulled out right in front of me.
Whee! Wasn't that fun! We nearly collided! I nearly slid into the median as I cursed loudly and tapped the breaks as hard as I dared, fishtailing away! Such a hoot! I know you were just being neighborly and, as I've memorized your license plate, and it's a very small world, not to mention a very small town, I'm sure you won't take it amiss if I flick a lighted cigarette in your window next summer. I don't smoke, but after last night, I felt compelled to start.
Yours in future emphysematous rapture,
Diana
(You know, the one driving the fishtailing minivan, wishing for a third hand, so she could have waved a middle finger at you without taking the necessary two hands off the wheel last night.)
-----------------------------------
Now where's the damn stamps?
Labels: In My Spare Time
posted by Diana at 9:00 AM
19 Comments:
Apart from that, (à la Mrs Lincoln), how was your day?
Great love letters and I now look forward to you publishing ones where you really say what you think of people!
And, yes, I have days like that too.
You better mail now before the USPS raises the prices on those stamps.
Actually come to think of it I may have to send a few letters myself....
Hope that you are having a better day!
I know this wasn't your point, but you just reminded me of why I'm really glad we don't have pets.
Or your neighbor.
These are hilarious even though you may not think the circumstances which provoked you to write them were! (The tone reminded me of Jocelyn's and I love her blog!)
Well, didn't that feel good to get all that out? Save yourself the cost of the ever-rising coat of stamps and just "POST" it to us! Smart lady!
Dumdad- (exhales a large puff of smoke) Fine. Just fine.
Christina- Ah, but they've got those brilliant 'forever' stamps, so they can just raise that postage all they want (at least until I run out of the current batch). So far, so better, thanks.
Jocelyn- Yeah, me, too. Pity I didn't realize this 2 years ago, huh?
Ruth- Who doesn't adore Jocelyn? I want to be Jocelyn, or at least I did before she agreed to serve as department co-chair. Now I'd rather be just about anyone else, as I believe administration meetings are akin to torture without end.
We used to have a large cat in the neighborhood who loved to attack my ankles after i came back from running. We had several sessions of negative feedback. Then there was the other cat who got a claw hooked in my hand. Thought I would die or at least commit feline-o-cide. Had to get a tetnus ahot after that one. And I too, do not plan on having pets, other than you and your sister.
The Ole RF-er
It's wonderful to get really pissed off when the time is right and it obviously is. All you need to do now, is mail those letters.
I am at a loss as to give you advice. We clearly live in a more selfish society in which people exhibit self centered behavior. On top of that, they become outraged when this is pointed out to them.
Suffering with silent rage seems to be our only recourse, but that is no good. At least you can tell your patients off. That's one place to start.
In sympathy, your fellow human being, Irene.
Wheeeee! You're fun when you're disgruntled!
(oh, and p.s.: http://amoresuitableforum.blogspot.com/)
Will you write a letter for me to the jackass of a truck driver who nearly sideswiped me while racing down the interstate in near white-out conditions? I'm still shaking too hard to do it myself.
This love letter format is great!
I was surprised that even in the country there is an issue with doggies roaming outside of their boundaries. Just this morning I read WestSeattleblog.com and they have an article about a couple pit bulls who a police officer shot because they were running in a pack and chasing neighbors. Unsupervised dogs have ruined more than one of my exercise runs. Most recently, a yappy wiener dog.
Scouting for wandering canines never works properly.
Especially one one lives (ie: me)in a pitbull infested neighborhood.
Stupid openID. Why isn't it calling me plain ol' Babs?? Pah!!
If only you really could send those letters! I'd be shaking in my boots over that subcompact incident. What is it with people. Was the driver yakking away on a cell phone? That's my pet peeve.
One of those weeks, eh? Why, oh why does it all happen at once?
Forget the stamps. Hand deliver them and take pictures of their faces when you do. Just say it's all for the good of the blog.
Oh God, I was reading and laughing and wondering how you can be funny so consistently and isn't that nighbour a bit of a wanker, doyou think you scare him, and TELL THE PATIENTS TO KEEP THE MASK ON ALREADY YOU FOOL, and then I got to the last paragraph and now I literally feel a bit ill bcs this is exactly, EXACTLY what frightens me and it gets in the way of my denial, where I have you and Charles and the kidlets safely ensconced, no need to leave the house ever especially in the night, until Spring is here. God, the bleeding idiot! You have to promise me to drive so slowly my three-legged cat could keep up. I'm serious.
Your letters are all things of beauty. And richly deserved.
Can you write one to Crazy Neighbor Ed for me, too? His new Shih Tzu puppy keeps escaping and yapping at our chickens through the chickenwire. That's bad enough on its own, but then he comes tromping over to collect it and steps on our blueberry bushes.
I've just popped over & love your letters! Do you think you could write one for my mad neighbour who likes to chop my plants down!
Dear Diana,
I adore you. I truly, truly do. Now I am asking a favor. Please write lots and lots of these letters and then publish them so that all can enjoy. And hey, your neighor would get the hint as well!
Love,
Dana
Keep up the good work.
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