P,

It occurred to me there may be a way to achieve all that we deserve without taking an additional and much older husband.  I recently attended the circus with hubby and cherubs and was struck by how itinerant such a life must be. I just realized it fits our needs perfectly. 

Who can be called upon to fix the latest family crisis, pay the bills or even notice anyone else when flying through the air on a trapeze or quickly moving between cities for the next performance?  The costumes are slightly glamorous and fulfill our need to dress like teenagers for decades to come.

If the oldballandchain and hubby couldn’t join us immediately–as someone surely must attend to the mundane details of hearth and home–we would promise to call during meal and bath times so as not to miss the opportunity to chat with the little ones.  Speaking of those darling creatures of the night, you may be worried that once they join us on the road, the cherubs may not get the best education available.  Surely, however, there must be a special scholarship at Harvard for children in such circumstances.  Can you imagine the delightful admissions essay detailing circus debauchery?  It should certainly be enough to find that unique individual the finest colleges so desperately seek.

In sum, dearest P, it seems we must move quickly and quietly to our newest calling.  If others get wind of our sudden stroke of genius, there will clearly be a massive migration out of DC.  Besides the inevitable real estate market crash, I fear moving DC types to the circus would merely transform the culture into, well, an ultra-competitive back stabbing enclave–much like our current neighborhood.  Surely with just us there it should take weeks for this to occur. 

Let me know if you’ll be joining me, P.  My glitter thong is packed and waiting by the door.

Faithfully,

C.      

Dear C,

While I can just see you now, twirling away on the flying trapeze in your diamond-encrusted thong, I’m afraid the circus life may not be so suitable for us less flexible types – and I’m not just talking physically.  As someone who likes to know exactly where and when her next meal is coming from, I  think a life of spontaneity and fun with the carnie folk would prove taxing in the extreme.  All that obligation to have fun!  I fear the only way I could cope would be by hanging out with the other miserable bastards over in Clowns.

Personally, ever since I was a young girl, a mere millennium ago, I have harbored the secret  desire to become a checkout clerk at the local supermarket. Just think: a mindless job, generous wages & benefits, and union protection so powerful, you can snarl at the customers all day long!  Alas, all this was before societal pressures forced me to acquire the university degree and professional ambitions that have served me so well when it comes to folding laundry and packing school lunches.  But who knows? Maybe Safeway is the place clowns also long to run away and join.

Faithfully,

P.