P,

It appears hubby has returned to this universe though he apparently won’t re-enter our little world for another several hours at least.  I was ready to stand down but now understand the pressing demands of business may require my single-handed clutch upon the throats, I do mean hearts, of my cherubs to continue indeterminately.  Clever bastard to have an office to go to, isn’t he?

Oh, dearest P, I’d love to believe it is the lack of time and sleep deprivation which keeps me from cancer’s cure but, alas, I can recall a moment or two prior to childbirth when I too had sooo much unrealized potential yet never managed to achieve it then either.  Like to think the vagrancies of youth and time spent on casual mating kept me from Einstein greatness but I fear my capacity was limited from birth thanks to the gene pool inherited from my parents.  Somehow, it is always their fault, isn’t it? 

At least I have provided ma mere and mon pere with four beautiful offspring in whom we can now suggest the budding of greatness once again.  No matter the lack of brilliance shown in repeated testing and evaluations.  We, instead, rely on our parenting example to inspire what we never managed: reliable use of birth control on a consistent basis.

Faithfully,

C.

P,

As I begin to mourn for the hubby I knew just last Wednesday, but has escaped my clutches since that time, I now wonder what the hell I was thinking!  Allow him to go somewhere where there is allegedly no contact except by satellite phone?  I may as well have sent him straight to the bordello in Vegas, or perhaps worse, into the arms of woman who likes to fish.

Imagine, dear P, that such a woman may exist.  She’s sporty and hardy and dare I say it, hasn’t ever once longed for a facial or manicure (although the former suggests a windblown complexion which begs for moisture).  I’ve occasionally spotted this species, I must confess, but never took the time to engage in their native tongue.  Now, it seems, hubby may have found one who finds his hobby delightful and may even be willing to use that tongue in ways I refused. 

Although there’s no hope for me, P, I only suggest you move quickly to read "CPU" and "Bigger Ram Monthly" ASAP.  The oldballandchain may not usually have a wandering eye but who could resist the siren song of the wench who tells him he’s got all the ram she can handle?

They’re only men, dearest P, and part machine in the oldballandchain’s case,  but we musn’t be fooled any longer.  Although I’ll never resist the impulse not to "rough it" I must find my own way to lure the old master baiter back home.  I think I need to review my "bag ‘o tricks" tonight.  No harm in having a little fun myself, after all.

Faithfully,

C.   

Dear C,

So that’s why you looked so refreshed and glowing on our walk this morning!  And I thought perhaps you had invited one of your eldest’s pubescent friends over for a sleepover.

While I fully share your concern about what hubby may or may not be getting up to with his fishing tackle, the odds  are that even if his guide does happen to be female, he may never be able to tell.  And while the ignonimy of being deserted for a woman who refuses to bleach her upper lip may sting more than our last bikini wax, you can rest assured that such a woman would not have a clue what to do with those ‘doorknob’ tassles I gave you the other day.

In the meantime, you may or may not be glad to hear that in hubby’s absence, the oldballandchain has anointed himself Guardian of his Neighbor’s Wife.  Rest assured, I have refused to give him the number of hubby’s satellite phone, for fear he might report on your repeated absences from the familial home, but please don’t be alarmed if you find the obc staring through your windows in the wee hours with his trusty binoculars.  He swears he’s only doing this to protect your honor, and that it has nothing to do with the fact that you allowed him to tinker with your central processing unit the other day.

Faithfully,

P.