#1
Dear Elementary School Parking Lot Usher People (I believe that's your official title),
How are you? Actually I know how you are. You are tired because it's early. I know you probably haven't had your morning coffee yet, and I know that very important people like you should never have to put up with bottom dwellers like me. I understand all this and yet I must ask a favor of you. Please .........please if you can find it in your heart don't take your exhaustion out on me by yelling and motioning feverishly for me to move forward when I am stopped only 8-10 inches back from the front of the drop-off zone. Please don't do it. Please, because somehow it causes me to immediately revert back to my few, very few elementary school experiences of teacher induced trauma (did I mention that there were only a few?). Yes, I'm almost 30 years old but this one thing can actually bring me to tears. And that could cause blurred vision which in turn could hinder my ability to see you clearly. So unless you are looking to wind up in a full body cast, don't do it. Thank you so much for your cooperation.
-Annie Lewis
#2
Dear Makers of Troll Dolls,
Where have you gone? Why have you abandoned me? I spent so many Saturdays wasting my allowance on your product as a child. So much time spent lining up my precious little trolls like soldiers even in all their naked glory. Let's join forces to reinvent this classic children's play thing. Please. Clearly my life being invaded by hoards of pretty ponies has taken it's troll........I mean toll. Thank you.
-Annie Lewis
#3
Dear Dana Torres (my new girl crush),
Picture this: You and me=BFF. Please?
Love forever, Annie Lewis
#4
Dear Arby's Drive Through Person,
I don't claim to know why you are such a grump. I assume there are some justifiable reasons because otherwise you would smile instead of give me a crusty as I pass through. But I ask you this: Why oh why must you always get half of my order wrong and then top it off by forgetting to give me straws? I have kids. Small kids. Kids who tend to end up in a pool of root beer when attempting to drink a fountain drink without a straw. Not to mention the melt down that occurs when they bite into a roast beef sandwich instead of the ham and cheese they expected. I'm a decent parent. I don't give in to every squak and whimper. But on those days when I resort to your drive-through expertise for my children's dinner of choice, it is not usually a day on which I have the mental capacity for melt downs. It goes south fast. And by fast I mean faster than China can falsify it's gymnasts birth certificates. So, you still with me? Right, ok. So please, as you contemplate which orders you will be screwing up take a moment to imagine my three children covered in lemonade and ice chips (which are superb by the way) as they scream the words: "I HATE wost beef mommy, I gonna cut yo om (arm) off and fwoe (throw) it in a gobboge (garbage)." And then, kindly throw in an extra jamocha shake. Just sayin'.
Sincerely,
-Annie lewis
#5
Dear Self,
As you take a look around your house, what oddity seems to jump out at you like a bolt of lightening? I hope your answer is "a bounteous array of stuffed animals". Now I ask you how many of those itty bitty furries actually has a name or better yet actually gets played with? I hope your answer is "not many". I know that you are attracted to those puff balls like a doughnut is to your keester but we need balance in all things. I mean the last one that even got a name was the darling little cow that Eliot lovingly referred to as "Pooie-Cow". Obviously, the creativity in name selection, even when left to your 5 year old has runneth out. If we keep going at this rate I fully expect your first grandchild to be named "Small-Human " It's. Time. To. Move. On. Throw them out and then commit to not purchase any more. Not even the ones that are so soft and squashy you could stuff your bra with them. Unless, of course that is actually your intention. Mmkay? Great!
Love you,
-Annie
Throughout my recent insomnia plagued experience I have been the lucky recipient of advice from many a well-wisher. "Count sheep, it really does work", "meditation......find your zen", "yoga is the magic answer, simply wrap your legs around your neck and take a few cleansing breaths", "Imagine your body slowly turning to ice, it works every time"...........uh........Ok? While I appreciate their suggestions I'm pretty sure I'll be on my way to recovery from here on out. I still have a list of people I need to address but surely this has bought me at least a handful of slumber filled nights. Now if only those teenage boys who wear girl's jeans that are 18 sizes too small with their unders hangin' out could be mistaken for a 5 pt. buck......
