Kitten a Go-Go

To the Makers of Candisol

Dear Bairn Biologics,

You make a product called Candisol.  I purchased this product after my colonic.  First, I will say, nice job.  I have been through 5 million yeast cleanses (due to my constant need for anti-biotics) and I know when something works or doesn't work.  This is working.  

However, your bottle states very specifically that the product "causes no 'die off' reaction."  I know a lot about the Herxheimer reaction.  I don't know if I am the first person to use it as a verb, but I was all over that.  Herxing is something I'm very familiar with.  You can call it Herxing or die off or whatever you want.  Regardless of its name, I know what it is.  

Your product caused the absolute worst herxing of my life besides valcyte.  Valcyte is crazy strong prescription shit that they gave me to kill the EBV.  You are an OTC supplement that claims not to cause "die off."  I am sorry, but I'm calling bullshit.

Your product kicked my ass for most of last week.  My assistant agreed that I was a zombie one day at work.  I left and was home by six and then I slept for nearly 13 hours.  Just to clue you in, this is not a luxury that young lawyers get.  

Your label is a LIAR.  I'm still taking your product.  I am simply posting this little letter so that people can find one person's opinions.  Perhaps you'll google you and realize that your claim is completely batshit nutters.  Your product certainly does cause die off.  Perhaps your typical consumer is not experienced with die off, but I'm a pro.  

Sincerely, 
Danielle (aka, Professional Herxer and She who is prone to bronchitis)

No Thank You

Dear Cooks Illustrated,

I received your November/December issue, along with an envelope advising me that it was my last issue unless I send some money.  I ripped off the advertising pages at the front to look at your typically beautiful cover illustration. 

Sadly, this month's cover, the one that you should be using to woo me, is a cracked open pomegranate.  That's right, the most offensive of all of the seedy fruits.  The fruit that started my obsessive-compulsive phobia of food with seeds. 

I was on the fence about renewing.  Mostly because I love reading your magazine, but I don't actually use it for any of the recipes or information contained therein.  I believe your insulting cover choice may have sealed the deal.  I cannot patronize you if you are going to send me scary pictures. 

It's over,
Danielle

Happy Birthday, Robin

Dear Robin, 

Happy Birthday, dear friend.  It's hard to believe that we are thirty three.  It's hard to believe that I have known you for almost 20 years.  

I often joke that you are the hippie yin to my yuppie yang, but it is tongue in cheek since you are many more things than just a hippie and I am more of a batshit scattered nut than a yuppie, but it's a nicer stereotype, I suppose.  Like many, our friendship has gone through cycles along with our lives.  I am so happy that you are a regular part of my life, even though you are two thousand miles away. 

From two girls with identical Bic Green Pen handwriting to two women with very different lives, here we are, still with eerily similar handwriting.  

I am so proud of you and everything you have accomplished.  You are an amazing mother, sister, friend, etc.  You are still one of the most gifted writers I know.  Also, a mighty fine photographer. 

When your father passed, I cannot describe the shock that ran through me.  I remember getting your update emails and I sobbed as I read them.  Even though he is no longer with us, I know how proud he would be of his daughter.  You are accomplishing so much and impacting so many people who cross your path.  The world is better for having you in it, with your advocacy, dedication, intelligence, sharp wit and keen knowledge of young adult fiction. 

Wishing you all the best on your birthday! 

Love,
Danielle

PS - non Robin readers - Robin and I are working on a special online project to give you a taste of both of our worlds.  Coming soon.  Promise...

Surprise Me, Trebek

Dear Tree-Beck,

Recently, you stated that many viewers had written in and commented that they liked the new set.  I realize it is your 26th season, but OMG, that new set is hideous.  It is like an awful abstract doctor's office print, but in a giant television set.  It was au courant in 1985.  Not now.  It looks like shit.  Please change it back. 

In addition, I do NOT approve of the new sound that it makes when the clues are coming onto the board.  I do not like change and that was completely without purpose.  Don't you have focus groups for this sort of thing??? 

Please stop wearing brown suits.  It makes the 1985 set look even more gross.

With a lot of grumbling,
Your show's biggest fan, but not your biggest fan,
Danielle

An Orchid for You

Dear Mommom,

Today, I did something that you wouldn't approve of.  I got an orchid tattoo on my ankle in your honor.  I've always said that the tattoo on my right foot was so that I would have success on every step of life's journey.  Well, I also want you watching over me on every step.  So that's why I wanted the orchid on my left foot.  I assume that the pain felt while getting the tattoo is equivalent to the pain of you bopping me over the head for something so silly.  It was extremely painful and I was very emotional when I drove home.  I miss you. 

 

I love you,
Danielle

Fibromyalgia Diaries: The I've had enough of this bullshit entry

Dear Immune System,

Over the years, I've come to realize that our relationship is chilly, at best.  We don't really get along.  Your constant need for attention.  Your refusal to follow accepted protocol.  Your unwillingness to get back to work after working really hard to combat an illness.  (You don't get a free ride for months after every minor illness!)  Your reluctance to accept healing medicines.  Your arrogant "look at me! pay attention to me!" attitude. 

Let's be clear - there is only room for one crazy unstable semi-narcissist in this relationship.  ME.  You have got to get it through your head that you are not running the show.  I AM. 

Due to the deterioration of our relationship, I am forced to present this cease-and-desist letter.  Here are my demands.

1.  Stop being such an attention whore.  That is my job and I am still pretty low-key about it (except for my desire to be a famous game show contestant). 

2.  Stop wasting my damn money.  $750 at the doctor today.  Because of your insolence, we have to see the super fancy doctor who doesn't take insurance.  It seems that pneumonia wasn't enough for you.  Now you have to rev up the ole EBV again.  I want a commissioned Tiffany Liu painting that I can already see in my head.  I do not want to continually shell out money to deal with your dumb ass.

3.  Stop using all of the same old excuses.  It's like we have a script.  Oh, Danielle works her ass off at everything she does and isn't paying enough attention to me, so I better use... EBV to get her attention.  Epstein Barr is so dull, Immune System.  You can't even come up with a normal illness that people BELIEVE IN. 

4.  Start accepting medication.  Every time, it's the same broken record.  Nope, you won't get that shot and will make me faint if I try it.  Nope, no IVs - you shrink all of the veins in my body.  (What if I wanted to be a junkie?  I'd fail because of you.)  No anti-viral medications because you make me throw up. Nothing at all to heal the EBV so that I can act like a normal human. 

5.  Stop making parts of me numb. You are really going above and beyond lately.  First, you started your crap in the spring and now I can't wear heels.  (Thanks for that since I have a rather expensive and very beautiful shoe collection.)  Now, you have started again.  My entire left cheek feels like there are tiny little bugs are dancing inside my skin.  The IV briefly made that stop, and you got pissed and moved the numb part to my forehead.  Try making it go away forever.  Face, legs and arms.  I'm sick of this shit.  I know I had pneumonia, but THAT WAS TWO MONTHS AGO.  Your time to shine is DONE. 

Do all of these things NOW.  I have had enough.  I am tired.  I am sick of spending money on health care for the same things over and over and over.  As my wise mother would say, knock your shit off. 

With hate,
Danielle

Someone I Know and Love Has a Mean Streak

[Boys and Dad, I recommend you skip this one.  No, seriously.  Run along.]

Dear RMASE (aka, the hippie yin to my yuppie yang),

From time to time, you like to send me things that will provoke me into a yuppie yapping fit.  Indeed, it worked earlier this week when you sent me the weird croc-like shoe with the individual toes.  You escalated things yesterday when you sent the "eat your own placenta after making it into pills YOURSELF" kit.  Today, I make a casual remark about being afraid of green alternatives to feminine hygiene products.

Rather than comfort me in this time of need, you saw weakness and pounced.  You could have simply said, no tampons are completely green and not an issue and don't feel remotely bad about any waste or packaging, etc.  You could have told me that they turn into food for unicorns immediately after use.  But no.  Instead, you send a response with no links that simply refers to Diva Cups and Luna Pads.  YOU KNOW ME.  I CANNOT NOT GOOGLE THESE ITEMS.  

Dear Readers, I was not prepared for the results.  If you are brave enough, go here and then here.  Unless you are RMASE, you will most likely understand my trauma.  Fortunately, you all know about my business (my lady business) and know that I have an IUD and don't require such products.  Because now that I know they are there, guilt would typically make me purchase these. 

In conclusion, I would like to thank the fine makers of Mirena for keeping me safe until 2014.  

With fear,
Danielle

Another Note to the Search People

Dear Bar Takers,

I always know when it is time for the bar because I get a variety of searches about how people aren't ready, etc.  It will be over in a week and you will survive.  I am in my third year of practice now and I lived to tell about it.  I want to be encouraging, but dude, I am so glad that it isn't me right now.  Have fun.  Hopefully, after I can get the easy version (after four years?) (if that is still an option), I will take CA and we can all go through it again together.  Until then, use your flash cards and figure out how to write/type fast.

Dear Grapetini Drinkers,

I am still proud to be a main destination for grapetini drinkers.  I will never understand how that happened, but enjoy your cocktail. 

Dear Person Who Thinks Kitty Heels Are Ugly,

Do you mean actual cat feet?  Because those are cute.  Especially when they are naked.  If you mean low high heeled shoes, you are right.  I can't wear my stilettos anymore and I am trapped in kitten heels at court.  Gah.  But please note, if you meant shoes, those are kitten heels.  Kitty heels = cats; kitten heels = shoes.

Dear Nasty Pervert,

Last time you got her by searching for young women.  This time, you got here by searching for male nudists who are preteens.  I again ask that you please get the hell off my site and just go to jail or therapy or something.  I hate knowing that you exist.  I hate knowing that we practically interacted.  You are icky. 

Regards,
Danielle

Two letters to Google searchers who got stuck with me

1.  Dear person who got here by searching "m not taking bar exam,"

Yes you are.  You have been studying your ass off.  Take the stupid test.  Then it will all be over.  Stop having a tantrum a week before the test.  I bet you need some sleep.  Oh, that's right.  You don't get to sleep now. 

2006 was so long ago.  I'm sorry, but I am just not that sympathetic and I have stopped yuppie whining.  So, you have to stop bar exam whining.  Suck it up.  Take the test. 

Oh, and good luck.  By the way, m is not a word.  Don't pull that shit on the exam.  It's am.  Consider that my helpful study hint.

2.  Dear person who got here by searching for preteen nudists,

Get your ass off my site, sicko.  I turn a blind eye at the foot fetish bullshit, but this will NOT be tolerated.  I should figure out how to find your IP address and report you to the cyber police because you are a damn pervert.  Or better yet, that guy who catches dumb ass predators on TV. 

You are not welcome in my land of rainbows and unicorns.  Run along and NEVER come back.

A random Tuesday

Dear Mommom,

Tonight, Mom and I were talking about you.  I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since.  Mom said something about taking your china.  As if I could refuse.  I will take any memory of you and cherish it and feel honored to have it with me. 

Life has taken so many twists and turns for me and Paul since we lost you.  I miss your strength and your common sense approach toward everything.  No matter what happened in our lives, you didn't judge us, even if some things may have conflicted with your personal beliefs. 

You were so incredibly special.  I know you weren't perfect, but no one is.  You brought me such joy.  I greedily cling to my memories of you so that I don't forget one second.  I'm still a little girl, singing with her grandmother in the park gazebo.  I am a pre-teen girl going to NYC for the first time.  I am a young woman graduating from college and you were there even though it made you ill. 

When I was looking for something this weekend, I came across a tiny polaroid photograph that I took of you and Poppop at Christmas dinner in either 2004 or 2005.  Like usual, you said that you looked like a mess, but you let me take the picture and you both look radiant.  I held that picture close to my heart.  I keep a photo of you on my desk at work and it makes me smile if I don't feel well or if I get bogged down by negative thoughts. 

I love you and I miss you so very much,
Danielle

To Two Unlikely Readers

Tonight, I can't stop thinking about you both.  My heart aches for you right now, but for different reasons than your own hearts might ache.  If they even still ache at all.  I love you both, dearly.  Many times, I hoped that I could have what you do.  Or did. 

As my first marriage slipped away, I hoped that maybe I could make my own fairytale.  But your fairytale always seemed to be just that.  Destiny.  Meant to be together.  After all of the trials, drama and heartache, at the center, there was always you.  Together. 

I could look to you and say, you know what, true love does sometimes win and you just have to fight for it.  My personal fairytale.  It is so hard for me to watch and not be able to help.  I want to mediate and med, but I don't think it matters.  It doesn't seem right that your fairytale should end. 

I wish you both the best, even though I will lose one of your in the process.  May you find the path you are searching for.  I am so sorry that you couldn't find a path to walk together. 

Love,
Danielle

NO MORE POCKETS

Dear DWTS Wardrobe People,

After the last mishap, I thought you would learn your lesson.  No more pockets for Samantha Harris.  She has to keep making the point that her dress has pockets.  Although, at one point, she did stop doing a shimmy so that she could put her hand back into her pocket.  I was grateful for the pocket then.  AND ONLY THEN.

Please fix this and don't do it again.

With concern,
Danielle 

Samantha Harris, Letter #125403

Dear Samantha Harris,

If you ever say "you brang it" again on live television, I will ...  I have no leverage. Please just don't do it again.  EVER.

With hate,
Danielle

That Woman Again

Dear Chelsea Handler,

On your show, you have referenced your disdain for Samantha Harris.  I have mentioned it in a few blog posts.  Now, I get at least one google search per day asking why does Chelsea Handler hate Samantha Harris.  If you could get back to me, that would be great.  Since only six people regularly read this blog, it won't be a big press release or anything.

Thanks,
Danielle

Harry & David Are Responsible For This

Dear Mommom,

It's been a very crazy 36 hours.   Work related.  Nothing major.  Just busting my ass to get a project finished on a very, very tight deadline.  I got home from work around 9 last night.  Since the project was filed this afternoon, I left right at 5 today because I am pretty brain dead.

When I got home, I stopped at the mailbox to pick up the mail.  Along with an array of people wanting my money and/or trying to sell me things, there was a Harry & David catalog (which technically falls into the category of people wanting to sell me things).  On the cover, there were lovely gifts available for Mother's Day.  At the mailbox (which is in a big locked cluster out in identity theft country, not like what you are used to), I immediately burst into tears.  That catalog was this slap in the face that this would be my first Mother's Day in which I don't get to send you a card and be thankful that you are in my life.  It was a painful realization.  Just as I'm sure I will have similar feelings on your birthday.  Just as I have similar feelings every time I see an orchid.  (This week was Administrative Professional's Day and I strongly considered getting my assistant an orchid, but I wasn't sure how I would handle that sort of reminder at her desk every day.  Sometimes, it is hard enough having you watch over me from the picture with Paul and Theresa and Poppop.  So I went with a different flower arrangement that was quite lovely, but didn't have the sentiment attached to it that an orchid would have had.) 

I miss you deeply and think of you every day.

Love,
Danielle

Dr. Doom, You've Been Fired.

Dear Dr. Doom,

Quite simply, YOU SUCK.  I went to you with an exhaustive list of issues and you told me my symptoms were "too vague."  You did almost nothing for my trick ankle, which was the source of great pain.  Your stupid tape fell off really quickly and then your office didn't give a rat's ass because you were going to a conference.  Needless to say, when I canceled that follow-up appointment, I was firing you.  Because you suck. 

Today, I went to see Dr. Randy Gubler.  HE IS A GOOD FOOT DOCTOR AND I WON'T MAKE UP ANY MEAN NAMES ABOUT HIM.  You see, he acknowledged that I sprained my ankle in the shower last week.  He LISTENED to my vast list of symptoms and figured out, DUE TO HIS MEDICAL AWESOMENESS, that these things are related and probably have something to do with my fibro.  He wasn't concerned with selling me shit off his website. 

Instead, he wrapped up my foot with something that can't get wet, so my wounded right foot can heal.  When that is done, I get to go back and have needles poke me and send shocks into my legs so we can determine if there is any sort of neuropathy.  You never even said that word sprain, let alone considered my other problems.  Why?  Say it again, YOU SUCK.  DR. GUBLER DOES NOT SUCK.  HE ROCKS.  HE IS GOING TO FIX MY DAMN FEET. 

Dr. Doom, I do not hate you as much as Samantha Harris, but that is simply because we only interacted once.  But I do not like you.  Not one little bit.  Perhaps you should not brush off your patient's concerns because you can't fit them into a snug little box on your sheet.  Oh, and FIX THE FREAKING TYPO ON YOUR INTAKE FORM.  I don't have Ebstein Barr.  And for some of us, EPSTEIN BARR isn't "just mono."  It is the demon that keeps us from functioning like a normal person because it is reactivated, jackass.  Don't act like I don't know what i'm talking about.  I've been to way too many shitty doctors to not be able to get my point across at this stage.  Plus, people pay me to make points all freaking day.  I'm sort of trained for this type of thing, I suppose.

In conclusion, all of the doctors near my house generally suck and you are one of them.  If anyone needs an outstanding podiatrist in Las Vegas, call Dr. Randy Gubler.  He's near Summerlin Hospital and he doesn't suck like Dr. Doom.  (As usual, due to the litigious nature of the average bear, I will not name Dr. Doom in this forum.  Something about defamation keeps me from doing it.  Plus, I can't remember his name since I've been calling him Dr. Doom for two days.)

With hate and disdain (and a virtual kick to the curb as soon as my foot is healed),
Danielle

Missing you...

Dear Mommom,

You have been on my mind a lot this weekend.  Yesterday, I took Batboy and Batgirl with me to run a few errands.  (Because a trip to the special pharmacy feels exciting at 4 and 6...)  On the way back, we passed the airport.  Batgirl asked me if I flew on a plane to see you.  I said yes.  She then asked if you died.  I said yes.  Then, she said how.  I tried to explain to her in the best way that I could.  It was a very difficult conversation to have with a four year old. 

She then asked if my grandpa died.  I said no.  She said, were they married a long time.  I said yes.  She asked if he misses you.  I said yes, with his whole heart.

It was a short conversation, but it was so incredibly hard.  To explain emotions that are still so fresh and painful to a little child who doesn't yet have to comprehend death. 

I've been riding my dad about sending your buddha to me.  I have loved that buddha since I was a little girl.  I know you wanted me to be a good catholic, but I'm trying to be a good buddhist.  I have some very special planned for that buddha when it arrives. 

My reflexologist (who has the gift) told me that there would be some days that I am suddenly overpowered with how much I miss you.  She was so right.  I am overcome with grief. 

When we were in the car on Saturday, Batgirl said that she wished she could have met you.  I told her that I wished she could have to, and that I sent you pictures of them.  It was so final.  She won't have that chance.  Nor will I have that chance to see you again.  My heart felt so heavy. 

I really hope I make you proud.  I love you so much.  I cherish my memories of you. 

Love,
Danielle

I Need Cheap Swedish Furnishings

Dear Ikea,

Look, I've done my research.  I know you refuse to put a store in Vegas because we don't have 2 million residents or something.  Have you perhaps considered that we have a HUGE tourist population (even now) and that sort of makes up for it? 

Here's the thing.  I need an Ikea.  I, like many Americans, am living on a budget.  But I am also extremely OCD and I need my shit to be organized.  I like YOUR bookshelves.  I want them for my sitting room.  I do not want the books in piles on the floor.  I can't alphabetize them that way.  I can't organize them into my own library organization system.  I need YOUR bookshelves.  I also want some inexpensive kids furniture for Batboy and Batgirl.  FROM YOU. 

I hit Ikea when I go back east, but I'm not shipping bookshelves from Philly.  That defeats the purpose of cheap Swedish furnishings.  I need Ikea in Vegas.  Can you please consider accommodating me?  I will tell everyone about it. I will drive tourists there.  You will do well fiscally. 

If my begging does nothing, and you continue to refuse, I'm going to be stuck renting a large vehicle and driving all the way to California (boring drive!!) so that I can get cheap Swedish furnishings.  I don't want to do that.  That is an exhausting all day affair.  I do realize that I could probably hook it into a quick trip to see the ocean (because I like knowing it is there), but I don't want to do that. 

Accordingly, please obey my wishes and open a Las Vegas location.

Thank you for your consideration,
Danielle

Wanna Be My BFF?

Dear Seemingly Cool Woman Standing behind Me at Smith's,

Remember when you were four and you could start talking to anyone and be BFFs in a matter of minutes.  If someone looked like a good match for your particular self (perhaps she had the Purple Pie Man and you had Strawberry Shortcake and you wanted to battle...), you just walk up and start talking to said little girl and there you have it.  Friends for life. 

As I've gotten older, I find it so hard to make new friends.  I am shy and I won't put myself out there, but if you talk to me, I will answer any question that you feel fit to ask me.  (Go ahead.  Test me.  There's a whole lot you don't want to know, but if you dare ask, I will tell you how it is.  That's how I roll.)

Today's errands went like this:  Dollar store for newspapers, Borders (for Kelly Clarkson and Christopher Moore book), Sunflower, Smith's.  I was flying through Smith's because I didn't want The Boy's mozzarella to go bad (as it is already boiling hot here).  While in line, I gave the nice cashier person my cute reusable bags from Whole Foods.  The check out begins. 

You were behind me in line.  You were super nice and struck up a conversation about my cute bags.  (They are the "I Used To Be A Plastic Bottle" bags that were always on Top Chef.)  We chatted more and you showed me your cool coffee mug without poison plastic that can be microwaved and I was very intrigued.  We discussed green things.  I checked you out.  Nice hair.  Properly groomed eyebrows.  I couldn't judge your shoes because of the stupid cart in the way, but I was wearing sneakers, so I was in no position to judge. 

And I thought to myself, Hi, want to be BFFs?  But I couldn't do it.  You seemed cool and I think you would have said, sure, let's be BFF.  I could have handed you a business card and we could have been friends.  And, maybe, just maybe, you aren't a lawyer or in any way related to the law.  (I love all of my friends dearly, but we are not a diverse group when it comes to occupations.)  (And I need people like Leslie to keep my yuppie whining in check because she works for a non-profit and knows that I need my ass kicked for my aforementioned whining.)

So anyway.  I wish I had asked you to be friends.  I wish I still had that four year old courage to just ask interesting people to be my friend.  But I don't.  I am self-conscious and shy.  If I ever see you at Smith's again, I am going to strike up another conversation and attempt to be friendly and maybe then...

Your Future BFF,
Danielle

Breaking up with someone via blog post is so tacky. I'm sorry.

Dear Trader Joe's,

Since I have been doing this stupid yeast elimination diet, I have been trying new foods.  Most specifically, I have been enchanted with spelt.  It's a grain or something.  I rather like it in tortilla form.

But Trader Joe's, you are really far from my house.  It's such a long drive and the parking lot makes me tense. 

Today, I discovered Sunflower Farmers Market.  It's kind of like a smaller, slightly less expensive version of Whole Foods.  I was extremely pleased with my shopping experience.  I found all sorts of products that were mentioned in my new favorite magazine, Body + Soul. 

They had spelt english muffins.  Mmmm.  They had spelt pretzels.  Since i hate regular pretzels, I don't have a ton of hope for these, but I'm going to try it.  The Boy is happy because there was a whole lotta stuff involving dead bison.  I liked the produce, although I couldn't find a pepper, which was annoying.  The selection is somewhat limited, like Fresh and Easy, but I am much happier with them than Fresh and Easy.

Trader Joe's, the nail in the coffin is that Sunflower is WAY closer to our house than you.  I'm sorry, but our relationship is essentially over.  We'll see each other from time to time when The Boy needs seed filled vegetable juice or frozen salmon with skin.  But otherwise, I am with Sunflower now. 

It's been fun.
Danielle

Hysterical Plane Passenger Needs Extra Napkins to Blow Nose

Dear Mommom,

Today, I left Jersey to return to Vegas.  Before leaving, Paul, Brian and I visited Poppop.  He was washing the windows, going about his routine.  But he seems so lost, like a piece is missing.  Like he lost his other half of 59 years.  He asked me to look through your things and see if there was anything I wanted to take.  I didn't leave with anything.  (Although I desire your silver and made that known for many, many years.  And I did ask to have my dad send me your Buddha, which I have also been trying to get for years.)  Mostly, I looked around the house and I touched your clothes and I missed you so deeply. 

I didn't get an opportunity to reflect on that grief because a certain airline decided to test my patience and I spent the next 45 minutes dealing with their inability to run said airline.  Finally, on the flight from Atlanta to Vegas, I finished a chick lit book called Remember Me by Sophie Kinsella.  It's about amnesia, finding who you are and finding someone to love you regardless of the twists and turns. 

When I finished the book, I clung to Brian and openly cried on the plane.  As I am not one for grand public displays of emotion, I was not thrilled about my surroundings.  But I couldn't help myself.  I was overwhelmed.  I couldn't stop thinking about you.  What if my memories of you were suddenly erased?  (Because that's a likely plot twist for the average person, right?) 

I thought a lot about your fifty-nine year marriage.  Brian and I are going to have to be pretty damn old in order to pull that off, but I hope that we can stay as dedicated and caring as you and Poppop were.  If I were without him, I know I would wander aimlessly and look like I'd lost my other half, just like Poppop looks now. 

I got a copy of your wedding portrait from Santa/Dad.  I'm going to display it prominently on our mantle.  Not only to remind me of you, but also to remind me of the strength of marriage and commitment. 

How I miss you,
Danielle

On Saying Goodbye

Dear Mommom,

Yesterday was your burial.  Seeing you for the final time was one of the hardest moments of my life.  I realize now that I wasn't saying goodbye to you.  Your memory will live within me forever. 

Brian came for the funeral.  I am so glad that he was there with me.  I needed his strength, along with the strength of my family, to get through something that made me feel weak and empty.  Last night, before we went to sleep, Brian and I talked a lot about you. 

He called you a trailblazer.  That's something I hadn't really thought about before, but it is so true.  In a time when many women didn't work, you got your BS in nursing from Misericordia.  You balanced having a family, work and so many other activities.  Indeed, you were ahead of your time. 

So many people came yesterday to pay tribute to you and to say goodbye.  I even got to meet Dad's fourth grade teacher.  I'm sure you remember her - he was sent to see what she was made of.  You touched so many lives and brought joy to so many people. 

It's Christmas Eve.  So many of my memories of you revolve around Christmas.  Your decorations.  Your Christmas Spirit.  Christmas dinner at your house.  Me stealing all of the stuffed celery as early as possible. 

Tomorrow will be hard without you.  I know you will be with us in spirit.  I hope you are free from pain and that your afterlife is everything that you believed it would be.

I love you and miss you,
Danielle

Orchids

Dear Mommom,

After I wrote my last letter, I asked Dad to read it.  He shared it with others (as I have shared it with anyone who stumbles upon this site).  My mother commented that I must have cried while writing it.  I didn't.  It was a celebration of who you were and the things in you that I hope to emulate. 

But this letter is harder.  You moved to hospice today.  When I arrived in New Jersey on Wednesday night, I know that I am there to say goodbye.  I have so much more to say to you.  But I know you can't ...  you can't talk to me.  You can't tell me that it is going to be okay.  And I am slowly coming to terms with that.  Slowly.  But because I have more to say, I am going to say it here.  I want people to know the you.  And to know you, they have to know at least a little about me.

I am a lawyer.  And most days, I feel like that's all I am.  I am too tired to be a good friend, daughter, sister, or wife.  I am too tired to cook, clean my house, bathe my cats or simply do laundry.  I am too tired to enjoy the little things in life that used to bring me so much joy.  I have a collection of paintings that are facing the wall because I am too tired to hang them.  I have my own photography that I am too tired to frame and hang.  Anything more than passively watching tv can seem so overwhelming.

Some may feel that I am superficial because of the escapes that I make for this overwhelmed feeling that I often have.  I pride myself on a nice pedicure and shoes.  But really, the shoes are about a lot more than just shoes.  I like their beauty.  I like their color.  I like the fact that no matter how i feel about the changes my body has gone through during my health battles, shoes always fit.  Vegas in Heels was an attempt for me to capture two of the things i love - photography and shoes.  It helped, but now, it needs to be redesigned and I'm too exhausted to make the changes that need to be made. 

So many times, during my mini breakdowns, I say that I feel like a failure.  And it is not because I have not achieved success in my life.  I haven't got any major complaints there.  I am haunted by this feeling that I am not doing/giving/making/being enough.  My mom told me recently that I can't fix it all and I can't do it all.  She's right.  I know that she's right.  Just tonight, Brian told me it will all be okay.  It will.  But that doesn't stop the self doubt. 

That self-indulgent bit of yuppie whining was necessary to discuss what I want to talk about tonight.  The many hats you wore.  You were a mother.  A nurse.  A caretaker.  A wife.  A cook.  The baker of a kick ass cherry cheese pie.  You could play the organ.  You decorated for the holidays.  You had bird feeders and found joy in watching the birds.  You made beautiful crafts.  I was always so proud when you would win ribbons for your crafts.  I'll never forget the dew drop in with the tiny mice. 

Most of all, I will never forget the orchids.  Your basement was full of the most magnificent orchids for many years.  I was captivated by their delicate beauty.  You never made a big deal out of them, but I knew they were special.  As an adult, I've killed more than a couple trying to keep just one alive because they remind me of you and bring me joy.  Whenever I would go to the Philadelphia Flower Show, I lingered amongst the orchids.  They bring me comfort.  They show me fragility and beauty in so many shapes and forms.  They make me feel your presence whenever I see one. 

Earlier this year, I tried to introduce plant life to our new home.  It's all dead now.  As I walked through Lowe's, I fondled more than a couple of orchids.  I wanted them because they reminded me of you.  I felt too guilty to buy one, knowing that I would kill it within days.  I certainly did not inherit your green thumb.  I did, however, inherit your eye for holding something basic, like a little bird or perhaps some shiny shoes, as an object of aesthetic beauty.  I learned to love looking at things.  Finding beauty in things.  Especially simple things (like perhaps a single flower or two idiot cats).

Even though I don't always feel like I am accomplishing great things or living my life to the fullest, I know that I can at least spot the beauty in everything.

Saying goodbye to you is going to be that much harder because I feel like there are so many beautiful things that I want to show you, even if it is just through pictures.

I love you dearly.  My heart is breaking to know that my time with you is nearly over.  I truly wish I'd made more of our time together.  But please know that I have cherished every second that I've had with you.  I will cherish the memories forever.

With love,
Danielle

I'll Tell You What I Want, What I Really Really Want

Dear Santa,

 

I would like the following:

 

1. Bank that counts change for you (as illustrated in the bed bath & beyond catalog)
2. New liver (this one has to be close to done with all of the pills)
3. Functioning thyroid
4. Book by someone whom I may or may not know as an expert witness
5. Flatbed scanner (for the scanning of photographs) (I've got things that Facebook needs/wants to see.  Robin might not want to see them, but everyone else does.) (and i have no shame, so I could care less how many photos of my perm are out there.)
6. hair that never needs to be dyed again, but is still my own hair and not a wig.  (note, hair that is just my natural color will not do.  I want it to grow the way that Kristin highlights it.  This can also be accomplished sort of half ass with a gift certificate to Suite One.)
7. Nikon D90.  This is a complete unreasonable request, but it does not change that I want one.  If i have some sort of charitable anonymous reader, I would like a new camera.  And if the charitable donor is a foot freak fan, then I can surely pose for more shoe photos with the camera, so everyone wins.
8. Treadmill (again, not reasonable, but it's on the list)
9. Fashionable footwear.  NO LADY SHOES.
10. A pedicure at that place in Maryland where the fish gnaw off your feet dead skin.  I could not be more serious that I want this.
11. DVDs:  The Princess Diaries, Bring It On, Save the Last Dance, Grease 2, S&TC (all seasons), previous seasons of How I Met Your Mother
12. tap dancing lessons for myself and a friend
13. a food processor
14. news that Ikea will open a location in Vegas (I need bookshelves and other inexpensive furnishings, dammit)
15. A promise from ABC that they will not take Eli Stone, the piemaker or the Darlings away from me.
16. 12 8x10 gallery frames (like the ones from pottery barn) (but not the ones from pottery barn b/c those people are BLOODSUCKERS) so that I can hang my photography that I had printed a year ago.
17. More time with my grandmother
18. a copy of my grandparents' wedding picture so that i can put it out next to their engagement portraits
19. some copies of my parents wedding pictures
20. a professionally taken portrait of myself and the nudists from Petrographique
21. to learn how to knit (i think it would suit my ocd parts)
22. an ample supply of frozen shrimp from costco
23. a sudden distate for foods made with yeast and sugar
24. the ability to digest 24/7 without the aid of drugs
25. a fancy new iPod
26. a baby hippo that should be trained to live in the closet (like my real closet, not a secret gay hippo), not poop and select shoes for me each morning.
27. Sapphire earrings made from a certain piece of jewelry that i already own
28. to have my Justice Blackmun autographs framed for my office, preferably next to an 8x10 glossy of his honor
29. a sound economy for the country
30. lunch with Oprah Winfrey, Hillary Clinton and Toni Morrison.  Another acceptable foursome would be Vice President Elect Joe Biden, John Malkovich and Seonna Hong.  Another acceptable foursome would be George W. Bush, Kathy Griffin and Pat Sajak.  (just imagine the sparks with the last group.  Man, that would be fun.) 
31. An original copy (with all appropriate typographical errors) of The Great Gatsby
32. A baby cat with no hair to name Lemon Chiffon Cupcake if its a girl or The Honorable Justice Harry Blackmun if its a boy (we would call him Hairy for the obvious humor).
33. The ability to sleep for 8 hours straight without drugs.  (or even with less drugs.  I'm not looking for a miracle.) 
34. a matching shelf thing from West Elm to go on the other side of the fire place
35. The ability to go to the evil trinity (West Elm, Whole Foods and Target) without increasing the Danielle deficit.  (If that isn't clear enough, gift cards)
36. a year supply of Corvalen
37. Various Seonna Hong prints which are currently on ebay. 
38. a new job for my brother because he seems pretty bored.
39. A monkey for Kat to hold because I understand the need to fulfill wishes and dreams.
40. A clone Danielle who can keep the house clean and alphabetized
41. a new Shu Umera eyelash curler.  Mine has seen better days.
42. a facial
43. a very large magnifying mirror to allow for even more pleasure when plucking my eyebrows (meaning it makes my face huge, not that the actual mirror is huge)
44. 6 bottles of epsom salt from CVS
45. Tickets to see Kathy Griffin next time she is in town
46. An audition to be on the Wheel (whereupon i will kick Kat's ass.)
47. The ability to wear all of my shoes without pain.  Or an ample supply of Fab Feet. 
48. A hot air balloon ride over red rock (i see them all of the time on my way to work and I always want to be in the balloon and Amanda said it isn't scary)
49. a word of the day calendar with hard words that make me seem smart when i use them in conversations
50. The entire collection of Sweet Valley High and/or Nancy Drew books.

That's all I can think of.  Enjoy.

With love,
Danielle

 

To My Grandmother

Dear Mommom,

I am so sorry that you are in the hospital and I am across the country and not able to be there with you.  I really wanted to spend Thanksgiving in Jersey so that I could see you while you were rehabilitating.  Then I got sick with some sort of stomach flu and had to cancel the trip.  I understand that you were able to enjoy some of Thanksgiving dinner with Mom, Dad, Paul and Theresa.  I wish I could have been there.

Because I was not able to be there, my heart feels a little broken.  Since I know that things went downhill yesterday, I am particularly saddened that I had to cancel the trip and was unable to see you on Thanksgiving, with the rest of the family.

Since I am thousands of miles away, I'm writing you this letter and I'm going to ask that Dad or Paul or Theresa or anyone who will oblige me read it to you.  I understand that voices can be soothing while you are recovering from the trauma that your body has seen over the last few weeks.  Even though it is someone else's voice, please know that this is coming from my heart and I miss you dearly. 

Since Brian has entered my life, I am learning so much about the impact that key players can have on a child's life, both positive and negative.  You are, without a doubt, a key player in my childhood and shaping the woman that I've become.  You taught me so much at such a young age.

You taught me to live freely and without inhibition.  How many women would sing at the top of their lungs in a gazebo in a public park over and over again to bring their granddaughter joy?  I will never forget the words to "My mom gave me a nickel to buy a pickle."  And I will never forget how you thought it was so funny that I always assumed I would get married in the same gazebo in the park.

You also helped to teach me humor.  Through funny cards and stories, I have so many fond memories of you from my childhood.  I never tire of hearing about my father's alligator that he brought home from Florida and your impersonation of that alligator. 

I will also never forget how you always told me you were 29.  I finally caught on when I was six and my mom turned 30 and it all clicked and I said, hey, you are younger than mommy...  Quick, I was not. 

From pewter frogs to carousel horses to mice, you always had a collection.  I cherish the angel music box that I have from your Christmas collection. 

You have been there through my triumphs and my falls, always willing to listen and not judge.  Always willing to tell a story to bring a smile to my face during tough times.  Even clipping coupons for me when I know you weren't feeling well. 

You helped to expose me to new things.  You took me to New York City for the first time.  You took me to see my first Broadway musical. 

Whether you realize it or not, you also taught me the importance of recognizing people's victories and celebrating the little things in life.  Even if it is just with a few kind words in a card, that can make a big difference.  In both my professional and personal life, I have tried to capture that gift.  I do everything I can to recognize a job well done and to acknowledge the successes of others. 

Most of all, I hope I have made you proud.  It is incredibly hard to be so far from family, particularly in a time like this, when a family member is so ill.  I wish I could be by your side right now.  If no one was in the room, I'd quietly sing all of our funny songs to you.  I know that on some level you feel us there with you.  Even though I am not there physically right now, please know that I am thinking about you, and so are Brian and the kids. 

I am not ready to say goodbye, but is anyone ever ready?  I feel unequipped to deal with that sort of empty feeling in my heart.  I hope you know that you have been an inspiration to me.  A driving force when I feel like quitting.  A reminder to make things fun and light ("kiss what?") and to keep a positive outlook.  To be strong and to passionately care for one's family, even if they have screwed up.  To offer help and love.  To be a role model and a source of inspiration for other young women. 

I love you dearly and I hope I see you soon, back on your feet and calling me Dani.  (You're still the only one allowed.  Pablo does it, but he doesn't have permission.)  Please know that I am thinking about you.  I miss you and love you.  Please get well soon. 

With much love,
Danielle

I don't have man feet

Dear Best of the West DSW,

DSW, you are by far my most frequently visited footwear store.  For months, or perhaps even years, I have been searching for black work shoes.  I have visited a couple of times recently and found perfect candidates.  When I begin searching for the box marked 6 or 6.5, you have nothing.  It's usually 8 or 8.5.  I realize that is considered average, but what about the ladies of the wee dainty feet?  I get screwed when it comes to the shoes that I actually need for work. 

I did not, however, get screwed when it came to red shoes.  As usual, I swore that I wouldn't buy them, but they were on clearance and very reasonably priced for Tahari and Ralph Lauren, so I did what I had to do. 

But still - get some smaller sizes.  I need black work shoes.  Geez.

With love,
Danielle

Too Much Crossover Is Not A Good Thing

Dear Samantha Harris,

I have done my best to ignore you since Season Seven started.  Tonight you crossed a line. 

YOU ARE NOT CAT DEELEY. 

You do not get to wear costumes when hosting.  Last night, you dressed up as Erica Kane.  While this may be an homage to living legend (with scary bolt on bosoms) Susan Lucci, I tried to ignore it. 

But tonight... This bullshit Princess Leia hair thing that you are working is nonsense.  Stop it.  If you come out dressed like a dragonfly next episode, I'm going to write another hateful letter.  Only Cat Deeley can be an African Princess one night and a Barbie ballerina the next night.  You are a prop and I still wish you weren't allowed to speak.  Even Tom B. looked at you weird when you asked Maks something strange about Misty being a woman.  Wtf.

You are an idiot.  Stop talking and STOP TRYING TO BE CAT DEELEY.  You are on thin ice.

With Hate,
Danielle

Ages 5 and Up

Dear 100 piece Spiderman Puzzle,

I kicked your ass.

With Ease,
Danielle

Election 2008

Dear Presidential Candidates,

May I be frank?  I think we're there, so I am just going to say what I'm thinking - I don't like either of you.  It is no secret that I wanted Hillary to be my president.  She will still be my president in my head.  (As Al Gore has been president in the head of many for the past eight years.)

Obama, You...  You make me angry that I am a democrat.  There, I said it.  When you cut through the rhetoric, I don't see much there.  I disagree with just about everything on your platform.  However, you are a democrat, so you have a better chance with me than the other guy.  It will depend on your VP.  Or perhaps you can just get the other guy elected and then Hillary can get it four years from now when everyone will be concerned about McCain's age.

McCain.  You... are a Republican.  I am just not there.  Sure, you're not one of those Republicans that I can't handle like the fellow in office now.  But there are some fundamental issues on which we disagree and I would have a damn hard time voting for you because of them.  But I also think you've got the right attitude on taxes and the war. 

Wait, sorry.  Hillary had the right attitude on those things.  And the right attitude on health care and everything else.  But McCain is closer to my views on those two topics. 

One of you better pick a VP candidate that I like.  My vote is up for grabs.  Enjoy fighting for me. 

With general disdain,
Danielle

She Works Hard for the Money

Dear krb505,

Yesterday, one of my friends was featured in an article in her local paper.  It featured Robin's family and the many ways they have implemented living green.  You, being a conscientious reader, made the first comment:  "this kind of crap makes me want to puke. sure, let's all "go green" and spend 2 to 3 times more on "clean" products that do "almost" as good of a job keeping our homes clean. i'll take my regular old clorox bleach over tea tree oil any day. i'm sorry that i work for a living and don't have time to worry about what's more environmentally safe. take it for what it is."

I realize that I am a fiercely loyal person and that I took personal offense because you are attacking a friend, but are you effing kidding me?  I'm not going to get into the whole quotations marks thing, but please note that I am silently judging you for that too.

What I want to touch on is the line, "I'm sorry that i work for a living and don't have time to worry about what's more environmentally safe."  It's weird because I work for a living too.  I'm a lawyer, a wife, an obsessive compulsive cat lady, a shoe whore, the list goes on and on.  Even though I work for a living like you, krb505, I am not arrogant enough to think that everyone else can change but I'm above it because I am busy.  It's this sort of selfish attitude that has gotten us into this environmental mess. 

I'm probably just as guilty as you, krb505, for using things like clorox wipes and every chemical I can find that claims to kill the germs that the Tiny Petri Dishes bring into the house.  At least I comprehend that I can change it and I'm working hard to alter my role in this culture of convenience.  When those Clorox wipes run out, that's it.  When the stainless steel magic runs out, that's it.  I look forward to trying club soda to clean my fridge.  I'm not sure where you shop, krb505, but club soda is a whole lot cheaper than Stainless Steel Magic.  And like most people who work for a living, I'm trying to stretch my dollars as far as I can. 

Stop acting like the world owes you something because you work for a living.  Everyone I know works.  Robin works her ass off raising her family and living in a way that we should respect.  Yet, arrogant pricks like you still think that they are better than that.  Get educated and get smart.  Admit that you might just be wrong.  Then take a deep breath and think about what your breathing.  Perhaps it's the chemicals in the air that are making you want to puke and not the idea of alternative cleaners...

Judgmentally,
Danielle

Larissa Kelly, I'll Miss You!

Dear Larissa,

My obsession with the Wheel is no secret, but we also record Jeopardy! every night.  About a week ago, you were introduced.  Larissa Kelly, grad student.  You were so disturbingly calm.  You seemed so peaceful as you'd bet thousands on daily doubles.  Honestly, if it weren't for your incessant blinking, I would wonder if you were sedated.

You dazzled me with your fierce intelligence.  Tonight, when I was at work at 6:45, explaining why a federal credit union shouldn't be taxed (um, because it's FEDERAL and EXEMPT, that's why), I released a happy sigh and said, well, at least I get to see Larissa tonight.  When I got home, the show had been delayed because of hockey.  And, I'm sad to say, we had to say goodbye tonight.  Until the Tournament of Champions, that is. 

I'll miss you, Larissa Kelly, freaky calm super smart girl who is younger than me and I am okay with that because I am practically an old lady.  $222,000... Nice.

With great admiration,
Danielle

Not a Valued Smith's Customer

Dear Douchebag Standing Behind Me in Line at Smith's Yesterday,

I waited overnight to see if my hostility would dissipate; it hasn't.  So I must explain to you why you are currently at the top of my list of people I hate.

Yesterday, I went to Smith's.  I carefully planned my shopping trip so that I could maximize bargains.  I went to the check out line and it was one of my favorite cashiers.  Then, you got in line.  First, you almost hit me with your cart.  You didn't care that I gave you a nasty look.  Then, without waiting for me to finish putting my groceries on the belt, you put the divider up really close to me and I didn't have enough room for my stuff.  This made me tense because it got to a point when I was handing things directly to the cashier because you were a space-greedy asshole.  Then, the food is on there and I was paying and handing over coupons and you were in my damn personal space.  Then, as I helped the cashier bag, you planted yourself right in front of the PIN pad which I wasn't done with.  You seemed to let out an audible hostile sigh when i asked for $4 in quarters.  Sorry, but I needed to put air in my tires.

Dude.  How about LEARN TO WAIT YOUR TURN.  It seemed fitting that when I later drove by you in the parking lot, you were climbing into an enormous SUV.  I am pretty certain you then got onto your cell phone and rear ended an old lady.  You seem like the type.  But even if that didn't happen, it comforts me to know that you probably get about 11 mpg in that gas guzzler. 

I hate you,
Danielle

American Idol

Dear American Idol,

I don't know if we can hang out anymore.  This is the first season I gave you a chance.  Now, America stabbed me in the heart my eliminating my precious Brooke.  Damn you, America.  I have no interest in the other four contestants.  (although I want david cook to win out of those left.) 

If Brooke puts out a CD, I will definitely buy it.  She is absolutely the kind of musician I love. 

With great disappointment,
Danielle

She Rocked that Bitch.

Dear Stef,

You are awesome.  Congratulations on setting a new PR (that's personal record, I think - Stef speaks in tongues when talking about these athlete things that she does).  Running to get the mail would probably give me a heart attack and leave me unable to walk for at least three days.  Running more than 13 miles would indeed kill me dead.  Yet, you did it.  That rocks.  You rock.  Keep it up.  The half silverman is yours this year!

Xoxo,
Danielle

Stupid Attention Seeking Whores

Dear My Kidneys,

I have been patient.  For more than ten years, you have taunted me now and then.  It all started with that kidney stone in 1996.  Then last January, we had the whole kidney infection business.  Which was misdiagnosed as a kidney stone because the doctors were not competent.  Now, here we are again.  Another kidney stone.  You ruined my day BIG TIME on Wednesday.  Thursday was no picnic either.  I thought we were moving past your juvenile nonsense yesterday and then, around midnight, you again thought it would be fun to attack me.  This is the most uncool thing yet because i really wanted to go see Stef at the finish line of her half-marathon.  But, no.  You want attention.  Ass.  So, now, it is Saturday morning and I woke up around 4:30 because of your nonsense.  We are officially enemies. 

With hate,
Danielle

with much love

Dear Friends,

I know i seem to have dropped off the face of the earth recently.  There's been so much going on.  Move.  Medical treatments.  Life.  That whole thing.  I've been running around like a crazy (ok, crazier) person lately and I feel like i am very out of touch with so many people.  My inbox fills and then I don't get a chance to go through and answer everything for a few weeks.  I am trying to get back into the habit of responding more quickly.  But by the time i get home from work around 7, I have no interest in being on the computer. 

Tonight, I can't sleep.  So I was reading Ask Pal.  Oh, my dear wonderful friends, you made me cry again, two years later when I read the comments on the last post.  I am very blessed to have so many wonderful people in my life.  I love all of you so much!  Thanks for always being there for me.   I'll try to start posting more regularly soon.  As always, trying to work the life/work balance. 

I hope everyone is doing well.  I know we've all had a lot going on lately.  I hope that some of the bad times some have recently gone through will soon be past. 

Thanks to all of my wonderful friends.  I'm so lucky to have you in my life!

Danielle

Today was the greatest day of my OCD life ever. EVER.

Dear Stride,

When you were introduced to the market, I was intrigued by your advertisements which stated you had the longest lasting flavor.  As a gum lover, I gave you a try.  I LOVED it.  You DO have long lasting flavor.  Considerably better than the average stick of sugar free gum. 

But, you were only blue, green and light blue.  Not red.  I prefer red gum.  So, in a moment of dedicated fever, I emailed you.  But you said you weren't making red stride ever. 

Tonight, I went to the convenience store to get beer and a krispy kreme (that was not planned, but it looked delightful when I got there) and I saw you at the check out counter. 

Red Stride.  RED STRIDE.  I bought every pack they had.  I jumped up and down and had a very one sided conversation with the clerk regarding how much I love gum and how I've longed for the day when you'd get it through your head that red is your color. 

Now, wish granted.  Red Stride, you are delightful (unlike pink stride, which SUCKS and the flavor doesn't last long AT ALL).  I am so very happy to welcome you into my life.  And if this is some sort of test market bullshit where you are going to go away soon, I am going to go batshit crazy.  Please don't leave me.  My heart can't take the pain.

With the greatest love I have ever mustered for a product besides Proactiv,
Danielle

PS - You look awesome with the red template that I'm currently using.  It's like I sensed I would be posting your beautiful picture. 

GO AWAY ALREADY

Dear Rain,

You've made your point.  You want attention.  You are needy.  I am asking you politely to CUT THE CRAP.

Today, I was soaked on the historical tour.  As The Boy has made clear, yesterday's trip to the volcano park was for me.  Today was for him.  I made it through Pearl Harbor.  I made it through a giant ship.  I made it through tour bus lunch at McDonald's.  All because I was looking forward to my sunset sail on the Catamaran. 

You ruined that.  My sail was canceled because you are an attention whore.  If you cause problems with my luau tomorrow, I'm going to be hostile.  If you cause issues with my trip to the North Shore, I'm also going to be super hostile.  I want food from the shrimp truck, dammit.

Please stop.  I leave on Monday and I'd like a couple days of sunshine, okay?  Thanks for your consideration in this matter.

With annoyance and disdain, and a pinch of ass kissing begging,
Danielle

A deeply touching love letter

Dear Spanx,

I had to look nice in a fluffy white dress yesterday that was somewhat form fitting in the waist area.  My beloved stylist, Kristin, told me about you.  So I braved the crowds at Nordstrom on Black Friday to get you.  Let's be honest, you aren't particularly attractive, but I bought you since I'd heard such nice things.

Sweet heavens, I love you more than words can say.  Unlike other "suck it in" garments I've had the past, YOU ARE COMFORTABLE.  I could breathe, but you did such a good job.  I had a shapely buttocks and flat tummy.  It was a wedding miracle. 

Spanx, I don't want you to think that you won't get to see the outside of the drawer again.  I'm sure we're going to become great friends in the years to come.  Especially since I see your creator has come up with some sort of new bra design.  I have to say I'm curious about that.

With much love and admiration,
Danielle

Kind of Ruining Things. Again.

Dear Samantha Harris,

The first three weeks of this season were bliss.  Drew was funny and could emphasize the right words when he read them from the teleprompter. 

But you...  You... 

Look, I don't want to be mean.  But maybe this isn't the right gig for you?  Perhaps E! wants you for something else. 

Stop trying to make awkward conversations with my Stars. 

And next time, make sure your straps are more supportive.  You looked like you were going to fall out of that dress, but not in a good Jane Seymour kind of way. 

With annoyance and as much hate as I can muster for a lackluster hostess,
Danielle

A long, but worthwhile wait

Dear Dancing with the Stars,

1.  I have missed you so much.  Thank you so much.  I've watched so many episodes of What Not To Wear that I walk around saying things like "bonjour tushie."  And, I mean, I love Stacy and Clinton, but I need variety.

2.  I still hate Samantha Harris, so imagine my delight when she gave birth and her newborn requires care.  and OMG, Drew Lachey was the best surprise ever.  I hope they keep him. 

3.  I voted for Jane Seymour.  That Cheetah Girl was super good, but Jane Seymour wowed me.  She was outstanding. 

4.  Wayne Newton is the most spray tanned, orange man on earth.  I am scared to see him tomorrow. 

A favorite of mine

Dear Every Day with Rachael Ray,

You are totally my favorite magazine.  Here's the thing, I am well past Rachael Ray saturation.  I can barely watch the new episodes of her show on the Food Network because she is too orange and something is going on with either botox or surgery in her eye area and it freaks me out to look at her.  Plus, omg, she can be VERY annoying.  I hate her talk show.  I can't make it through an entire episode without cursing under my breath about being annoyed. 

But, in print, Rachael is a delight.  Awesome recipes (not that I cook them).  Cool articles on travel (not that I do that either).  Neat table of wine pairings (yeah, another thing I don't do).  I love that she includes pet recipes (but my fat nudits get no home-cooked meals).  But it is still my favorite magazine even though I apparently do nothing that the magazine says.  So, that's all.  I like you, pretty magazine.

Sincerely,
Danielle

I admit that I have a problem.

Dear Celebrity Gossip,

How did this happen?  How did our relationship get to this point?  How am I so dependent on you?  More importantly, you are a complete asshole, so why do i even care in the first place?  Why on earth is Perez the website before I check the news in the morning?  Why did i sit through Britney's Troubled Year on VH1 last week before I watched What Perez Sez?  Why Why Why?

I know that you are rotting my brain.  In fact, I'm certain of it.  I'm current reading Al Gore's Assault on Reason and I'm watching and reading other crap like that. 

So it must end.  Celebrity gossip, we are breaking up.  Today, I started healing.  I haven't looked at Perez or Dlisted even one time.  Nor will I.  I am not removing the People headlines from my Google homepage because People is harmless and quite frequently nothing more than press releases.  I will also start reading the real news sections of Yahoo News.  Not just the Entertainment section.  I want my brain back, dammit.

Sincerely,
Danielle

A piece of my anatomy which we don't often talk about

Dear Throat,

I hate you.  Get over the strep.  You are 31.  That's too old to be behaving like this.  Heal, dammit.

With hate,
Danielle

Hi, I'm in Costco and I Need Nutrition Advice...

Dear Fitness Guru,

You know that I don't mean it when I constantly call you a bitch under my breath, right?  Because I don't.  See, I'm just frustrated.  Because I hate carrot sticks.  A LOT.  In fact, the only thing I hate more than carrot sticks is an unnamed arch-nemesis.   

All sorts of people have been asking me how the diet is going.  I explain that it is hard because I am not used to eating so much.  Okay, maybe not so much, but so frequently.  I have often gotten caught up in a deadline and completely missed one of my effing carrot stick/cheese/cracker snacks.  (oh, boo.  how sad to miss carrot sticks.)  I am really looking forward to the arrival of my meal replacement drink.  (i hope it doesn't smell like anything unpleasant.)

So, look, I know you get a lot of lip from me right now because I don't like carrot sticks, but I am seeing results.  We are entering week four and I've lost four lbs.  More importantly, I am pretty sure that there are muscles underneath of the giant wiggly globs of fat that comprise my body.  In fact, I can distinctly see quads and triceps. 

In conclusion, sorry I almost threw a tantrum today when I wasn't allowed to have the cherries in Costco.  I'm bored with bananas and I wanted something else for my cereal.  My seed phobia and weird allergy to strawberries has limited me. 

I will stop having tantrums and continue eating those stupid carrot sticks.  The tiny girl was even kind enough to bury one of them at the bottom of my container of hummus today.  Oddly enough, after her little fingers had been all over the hummus, it was thrown away.  She may have it served only from an ice cream scoop now.  (right, it's totally school lunch style, if they served things like hummus instead of french fries.) 

Xoxo,
Danielle

Ouch

Dear British Personal Trainer,

You signed me up for my new gym membership on Wednesday and you said I could come in for my free personal training session on Saturday.  Okay.  Figured this would be where you show me how to use the machines.

I arrived yesterday morning and the first 20 minutes was spent with you showing me how to use the cardio machines.  Um, Mr. Trainer, while I may be disgusting, obese and very jiggly right now, I have been to the gym before and I know how to start moving and hit quick start. 

I suspect that you noticed I was getting an attitude with you because you made me pay.  It seems that certain machines involve me using muscles that I don't even have.  And here's the thing, I am in a great deal of pain today.  Since, normally, i can barely open a jar of baby pickles, it seems that you shouldn't be making me try to lift 50 pounds with my little arms.  Presently, I don't think I can open an envelope.  My arms are dead to me now.  Thanks to you. 

And do you have any idea how hard it is to bathe a cat when your arms are dead?  Let alone, how hard it is to bathe two cats.  It's effing hard.  That's all.

With hate,
Danielle

Public Pleading

[I utilize this public forum in the hopes that perhaps she will put her food porn response in the comments and then we can all benefit from the joy.]

Dear Hot Tina (you know who you are),

I know what you did on Thursday night.  You told me that you were planning on it.  I bet you totally looked hot.  But, I need to know - HOW WAS THE COOKIE EXCHANGE?????

Missing you and foxxxy cookies,
Danielle

Another search gone Kittenagogo

Dear person that got to my blog by searching for   how can i cut my hair in layers myself,

Please let me offer you this simple word of advice:  do not cut your own damn hair.  I believe if I have anything to offer the world, it is that you should go to  good salon or your hair will look like poo. 

In my case, my hair always ended up looking like the bottom of  pond because I was way more into home hair color than home shearing.  but still, it won't go well.  Do not cut your own hair.  don't you remember what happened when you tried to cut your own bangs when you were little?  Exactly.  Step away from the scissors...

Xoxo,
Danielle (whose hair is looking particularly good because of the water that makes the shampoo lather)

Thank you

Dear my incredible friends and family,

Thank you.  From the bottom of my heart - Thank you.  I've got some major changes happening in my life right now.  I've been hurting and feeling lost.  I've been so utterly scared to admit what is happening.  I've been lying to myself and I've been lying to most of you for a longer time than I like to admit.  For the lies, I'm sorry.  I know what's happening is coming as a surprise to everyone.  I'm sorry for that too.  I'm sorry that I've been so guarded and unwilling to trust anyone with the burden of what's been in my heart. 

But here's the thing.  Slowly but surely, I've recently started talking.  For the past month, the support I've received from the limited numbers that I've been willing to talk to has astounded me.  Then, this week, I had to increase the circle because I finally acted on what's been going on.  I have to tell you - I was scared to death to talk about it.  Scared to death that people would judge me or call me a bad person or blame me.  Those fears were so irrational.  I can't even explain it now.

When it was time to open up, you have all pulled me close and not let me wriggle away, which is my gut instinct.  You have shown me your support in making what has been the hardest decision of my life.  You have not made me feel like a failure.  You have helped me in more ways than you can possibly realize. 

I'm getting overly sappy and emotional, so I will stop here.  To everyone, thank  you.  Your support means everything to me.  I am the luckiest woman on earth to have friends and family like all of you.

Rainbows and Unicorns,
Danielle

You are more disappointed than any of the others. I'm certain of it.

Dear Person who got to this blog by searching for "sinful post,"

<sigh>  In a way, the fact that I can see how people got to this site is both a blessing and a curse.   It has helped me to realize that I do, indeed, have like 12 regular readers, but I'll assume that's just the six of you being super eager that I will make multiple posts.  It's also given me some insight into what searches bring people to me.  Sweet, sweet rambling me.

What type of post were you hoping to find with the search "sinful post?"  I mean, I get you were looking for a post that is sinful, but were you hoping for dirrrty?  Because I'm guessing that the people who search for "whoretastic" are looking for the same thing. 

I'm sorry you wasted your time if you were looking for porn.  I mean, I have written some law porn, but that's probably not what your into.  I'm guessing you were looking for bosoms.  Naked ones.  Not naked kitty. 

So, you know, sorry.  I hope you found what you were looking for elsewhere.

With apologies,
Danielle