Play It Again, Sahm

Jocelyn wrote:

< And since when is “lesbian” a proper noun? And is there a problem with her fingers that she is unable to type out the word “you”?>

Ahhh, Jocelyn, now u r speaking my language!

Phyllis

Phyllis wrote:

< Ahhh, Jocelyn, now u r speaking my language!

>

Hey, great joke, Phyllis! Your sense of humor is really improving!

Brenna

Thank you! It was the elective graduate course in Joking 101 that did the trick.

Phyllis

Oh, man. I’m in awe.

Like totally.

Brenna

Hey Rossie-girl,

Saw that post on the loop from that new chica. She made you look about as sharp as a…oops, never mind. Was going to lapse into a Texasism, and I promised you not to. But sheesh, sis— Houston is really growing on me for real! I’ve perfected the “y’all” and “wajeet” (what did you eat). Not such an act for me anymore.

Anyhow, I’m sorry about what Hannah said. She was rude. You going to talk to her about it? I’ve half a mind to let her know what we Texans do to little chits who diss on our family members.

You hang tough now, you hear?

Veronica

Dearest sister,

You can relax— I’m perfectly fine. Hannah obviously has a lot of repressed anxiety and an emotional hunger for acceptance and a sense of superiority. These things are inflicted on the juvenile psyche and manifest themselves in a variety of ways, include an inability to gauge appropriate social behavior. I wonder how her relationship with her father is? Regardless, I’m not planning to speak to her about it at all. It’s not my problem.

Anyway, rest assured I am not allowing her emotional unrest and woundedness to disturb my personal sense of peace and well-being. I just picture Jesus as my bubble of light, surrounding me as I float down the sewers of life. No matter how murky the waters, they don’t need to contaminate my inner wholeness. Oh, Ronnie, I can’t tell you how freeing it is! This sort of thing would have made me so angry a year and a half ago, but now…it just rolls right off.

Though I would like to know what you were going to say… Sharp as a what? You have my permission, dear girl, to “speak Texan.” I don’t even care if it’s put on or genuine. Those sort of petty issues no longer have the power to upset my spiritual centeredness.

With love,

Rosalyn

“The wise woman builds her house, but the foolish tears it down with her own hands.” Proverbs 14:1 (NASB)

Was going to say, “She made you look about as sharp as a mashed potato.”

Therapy or not, you are still one bizarre chick, sis. Shrink turned you into a Buddhaesque freak. Either that, or you’re on some pretty strong drugs.

Veronica

LOL! Neither.

I’m high on the peace of Jesus and emotional wholeness.

Rosalyn

“The wise woman builds her house, but the foolish tears it down with her own hands.” Proverbs 14:1 (NASB)

I think Buddha-enhanced drugs would be less scary than your evangelical-induced Nirvana. But you know I love ya anyway.

Veronica

Hey, hotstuff, what are you doing?

Working, of course. Nobody warned me that interior design would entail marital counseling. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow with the Kerricks, who are fighting over the design of their master suite. She said she wanted “red walls and gold satin curtains” and his response was “Great, we’ll be sleeping in a bordello.”

She said, “And how would you know about that?”

“Well, how else is a guy going to get some action, huh?”

And then they were off. I know FAR too much about the Kerricks now. Blech!

So my job tomorrow is to calm them both down before they decide to get a divorce and leave me with an outstanding bill. This is NOT what they trained us for in school!

What are you doing? Where are the kids?

Love ya!

Dulcie

I’m e-mailing you. The kids are…let’s see… MacKenzie is doing a hair-singeing experiment with the lighter, and I gave the twins permission to take their dolls to the roof and play up there for a while.

Your humor is sad, as in S-A-H-D, stay-at-home DAD SAD. You obviously are bored and don’t have enough to keep you busy. You could bring me a snack or something.

A snack? Do I look like a live-in maid? Sheesh. I cook for you, I clean for you, I care for the kids—and this is the thanks I get? Bring me a snack? I’m insulted.

You might as well—you’ve still got a dish towel over your shoulder. You look like housekeeper material to me. Just missing the apron.

Shoot! I forgot again. I hate that— I put it there when I load the dishwasher, and then it’s there the rest of the day. But an apron? Not even on my dead body, got it? A SAHD has to have SOME boundaries.

And why are you e-mailing me when I’m sitting not four feet away from you?