New and Noteworthy

Not my handiwork. I would never waste time feeding my family lettuce.

As a house husband, I am responsible for pretty much all of the daily domestic chores. One of those chores is Lunch Making. Each evening, I spread the peanut butter or slather the mayonnaise, wash the apples, and parcel out the Halloween candy into my wife’s and son’s respective lunchboxes.

Packing my son’s lunch is fairly straightforward: Just Lunch and Nothing Else. He’s too obsessed with building and maintaining his social circle to tolerate anything that may cause embarrassment, so I do my best to curb my whimsical instincts.

Ellen, on the other hand, gets a little something extra: a Lunch Note. These notes are nothing special, just a line I blearily compose before my first sip of coffee. When she opens her bag, she might find something like:

This sandwich was made with LOVE!

or

You’re all that and a bag of chips!

or

Stay cool, hot stuff!

Not my best work, but Ellen seems to enjoy it.

My point is, these notes never communicate any information that can’t be written on an average sized Post-It note—and that’s usually what I use. The other morning, however, I found myself fresh out of Post-Its, so I dug into the living room desk drawers to see what I could find.

I found no Post-Its. No scrap paper. No cheap notepads from various charities trying to guilt me into making a donation. I did, however, find some pretty nice note cards. Really nice. In fact, they were too nice to warrant my typical brand of tossed-off correspondence.

So I composed something more.

My Dearest Ellen, 

Oh, how I long for your warm embrace. 

I do so miss the simple pleasures of our days together. Your peach cobbler. Long talks by the glowing hearth. Bouncing our dear son on my knee. I can only imagine how he must have grown in the many months since I’ve been gone. 

I sometimes fear this war will never end. Every day we march further south. Talk amongst the men say that we’ll face the Rebs tomorrow at dawn. Sometimes I think I can hear them just beyond the next hill. I hope not, for I am sick of fighting and wish to wage war on nothing more than the crabgrass invading our lawn.

Pray for my swift return, my sweet. Stay strong. Kiss little Alex for me. Take solace in knowing that no matter what may happen to me, we will reunite in this life or the next.

Your beloved,

Michael

It seemed appropriate.

To give the lunch note just the right hint of pathos, I later texted Ellen some suitable background music.

Go ahead. Give it a try. Read my note aloud while the music plays.

Ain’t it great? It’s powerful, emotional stuff! You could play that music while reading a birthday card or a grocery list or a fart joke and it’ll make you bust our crying!

Anyway, long story short, Ellen thinks I’m nuts now.

Love Is In The Air

The lovely and talented Susanna Leonard Hill is having another blog contest! I like to enter those. So I did.

The rules are simple: In 214 words or fewer, entrants must write a Valentine’s Day story where one of the characters is grumpy.

Enjoy!

Be-Suited CupidCranky Cupid

Corky smiled down on his loyal platoon. “Today’s the day! Today we launch our arrows in a war against loneliness!”

The cupids cheered. Well, most of them:

“Harrumph.”

Corky ignored this. “Today we make the world a happier place!”

“Harrumph!” the heckler repeated. He followed it up with worst swear word he could think of:

“Stinkypooperpot!”

“Gerald!” Corky barked. “Watch your language!”

“Why do we have to wear this?” Gerald grouched.

“You’re not wearing anything.”

“I know! Why do cupids need to be naked? Why must we show the world our creased caboodles? Why do we let everyone peep at our dingle wingle do-dahs?”

“Because it’s the rule,” Corky stammered.

“Why can’t we wear suits?”

“Because we can’t!”

The other cupids peered down at their own naked pudginess.

“Why can’t we?” one asked.

“A suit would be flattering!”

“And flashy!”

“No!” Corky boomed. “The rule is…”

He trailed off, for Corky’s mind flashed to an almost forgotten time many years ago…

“The rule is…” he tried again.

…when a pair of young lovers giggled at his blorpy bottom.

“The rule is…”

The memory turned him red all over.

“The rule is…” Corky announced, “STUPID!”

The cupids cheered.

That year The Suited Cupids spread the love and took the fashion world by storm.

More Resolved Solved!

Resolutions be tricky.
Resolutions be tricky.

At the start of 2015, I posted six resolutions that I planned to accomplish over the coming year. By the first week of February, I had nailed two of them:

Resolved: I will do something bold, yet well-planned.

Resolved: I will get rid of my golf ball collection in a manner that is – at the very least – mildly amusing.

Needless to say, I was feeling rather good about myself. In fact, I was smug. “Ha ha!” I chuckled. “I have 11 months to accomplish four more measly resolutions. Easy-peasy lemon squeezy!”

The  remaining resolutions didn’t seem all that tricky, either:

Resolved: I shall neither form opinions nor comment on the opinions of others until I have finished at least one big mug of morning coffee.

Resolved: I will meet more blog buddies in person.

Resolved: I will become a Laundry Master.

Resolved: I shall write early and often.

But, then, resolution-wise, I kind of hit a wall. February became March and March became April. During that time I was unable to put anything in the done pile.

That is, until last week. My lovely wife, Ellen, with great ceremony, presented me with the following two documents (suitable for framing).

Woo!
Woo! (Click to see larger.)

Double woo! (Click to see larger.)
Double woo! (Click to see larger.)

Thank you, my love! I am honored and touched. And I can now see the light at the end of the resolution tunnel.

Onward!