Dearest P,
I can only confess that hearing you excited about the oldballandchain's sweaty self is enough to know how deeply disturbing the whole Everglades experience must be for you. It seems your entire value system has been set askew. Worry not, however, as I want to assure you that returning to the 'hood has brought with it an entirely new set of urgent tribulations.
Can you believe I had to pretend to offer access to the new President in order to get youngest into a three hour gymnatics camp this week? Nearly didn't work as there are so many desperate DC parents without suitable childcare during a time that spending precious hours planning for the inaugural is obviously de rigeur. And by planning, obviously, I mean posting one's home at inauguralhomes.com for the maximum amount of tuition dollars to be gained.
And really, how can I be expected to get the house ready for guests when my housekeeper was more than a full hour late today b/c of a some sort of medically urgent scenario? At least she arrived in time to wash a load of clothing b/f my teenage son returned to the shower for his seventh clothing change of the day. I wish I could believe it was his own sweaty tennis escapades that sent him there each time.
You will be pleased to know it is only your culinary expertise that keeps me sane. I have decided to save your remarkable pesto (storged per your fantastically futuristic food storage system: baggies in the freezer) for New Year's Eve. I know it's hard to imagine but hubby and I have no real plans for the evening. Teenage son has asked to have a small soiree that night but systematically checking backpacks upon entry and permitting friends to enter and exit the house only one time per night don't equal the kind of fete I imagined. However, rather than complain bitterly, I will save the whining for after the event and simply anticipate the garlic and basil combined on my willing palate at some point in the evening. For this, I am eternally grateful and know you too will return home soon enough in order to reach your cuisinart and its miraculous powers. Now only if you had a solution to those too frequent showers my darling eldest takes, I would post the house at a price high enough to fund tuition for your cherubs too.
C.
