Dear Server Company,

I think it’s really rude you shut down our entire server because of a supposed bad spam comment on this blog.  What’s more that you are making it almost impossible for Aaron to retrieve our lots of information and hosting on the server.  I’m pretty sure we were paying you to keep track of our stuff, but what do I know?  Also thanks for the heart attack that my blog was probably gone forever.  You should really come up with a better plan if you don’t have good enough security on your own servers.

(Sticking my tongue out),
Kelsey

Dear Amazon.com,
We need to break up. It’s not you it’s Aaron.
Regretfully, Kelsey

Dear Icicles,
Please stop scaring me half to death when you break off the roof and smash on the other part of the roof.  That’s rude.
Tired of heart attacks, Kelsey

Dear Aaron,
You snore really loud.  Even if you deny it.  I promise to stop plugging your nose to wake you up if you promise to stop doing it.
Love, Kelsey

Dear Body,
I think it’s rude you don’t magically lose all the baby weight.  Exercising is hard and terrible.  And my clothes don’t fit.  Also bacon is super tasty and so you are going to have to solve this problem on your own.
Lazily, Kelsey

Dear Sleep,
I miss you so bad.  What did I do?  I can change.  Please forgive me.  I’ll do anything if you come back.  Think of the good old days!  Just give me another chance…
Please!  Kelsey

Dear People Driving 50 in Parking Lots,
You need to knock this off immediately.  One of these times I am really going to pound on your car with my bare hands.  Just be glad that normally my hands are full of children’s hands or you would really get it.
Hatefully, Kelsey

Dear Winter,
Thanks for making all the spiders disappear.  I think you killed them all forever, and I am refusing to believe the people who tell me you are just temporarily frozen.  You are the best.
Love, Kelsey

Dear “Helpful” Older Lady,

Today we met you while we were walking to the fruit market. It is about a 25 minute walk for small feet, and having already walked half hour to the grocery store several hours earlier I was content with our pace. Halfway there we crossed you on foot and smiled at you. (New rule #1: don’t smile at seemingly innocent ladies.) We turned the corner a minute or two later and suddenly a car sidled up to us. I instinctively pulled the kids away, but when I saw it was you I relaxed a little. I figured you were going to ask us directions, because surprisingly enough I get asked for directions quite a lot. Instead you tell me you have a piece of advice about my daughter for me. I assume you are going to tell me that there are scary bad guys around or something of the like, because as it had been raining earlier, both my kids had warm jackets on.

You proceeded to tell me that Sammy’s crocs are not safe. Similar shoes are really popular here, and so I assume you mean that they will fall apart or something. I perhaps was a little condescending when I told you that mine were from the US and just fine for feet. But then you gave me a 5 minute lecture on how they will ruin my daughter’s feet. What I really needed to do was get some boots with arch support you said! As you will recall, I was pretty polite. I said ok, thank you, about a million times. Then after you decided to tell me that Sammy’s shoes were the worst you took a gander at Harmon’s feet and determined his firefighter rain boots were also awful and that he also needed some boots with arch support. Again I thanked you for your advice. I should now also point out to you that I also ignored the fact that I was wearing the exact same shoes as Sammy (you didn’t seem to be concerned for my feet!), and made no explanation to you about what I felt was proper footwear and what shoes my children actually wear on a regular basis.

I thought our conversation would never end, and wondered how I would get away from you without being rude. Because I only like to be rude when it is really warranted, and although you were pushing the limits, I was feeling kind. But then you had to put in one last plea, didn’t you? Well, let me give YOU some advice for the future. The next time you stop someone on the street to tell them what improper footwear they have on their child, do not use the following line: “but she is so beautiful, don’t you want her to grow up to have good looking legs?”

In case you need further explanation I will help you:
1. My daughter is two. And although I hope she grows up to have legs that are strong and healthy that she likes, I don’t really think that worrying about how good looking my daughter’s legs will be in the future is any of your business.
2. You simultaneously told me how ugly you thought my legs were, as I happened to be wearing a skirt and the same shoes as my daughter. (It was laundry day, otherwise maybe I would have been wearing pants and you would not have even noticed us at all!)
3. MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!

I am sorry if my parting words were in an elevated volume, but I do mean what I said: They are MY children. Maybe you were offended by my walking off, but I was done with our conversations. Oh, and beware, because if you see me on the street again you can be assured I will have something to say about your shoes.

From the bottom of my sole,

Kelsey

I was going to write each of you a note to tell you how great I think you are, but that was going to take a long time.  But really, Awesome People, I adore you.  I am continually amazed at the things you do for me and for others.  You are constantly making my life better and easier.  Some of you seem to know when I most need a note, a call, a trip to get some forbidden dark soda, a laugh, a prayer.  Some of you write hilarious blogs that make me laugh out loud.  Some of you are so nice and so good that you make me want to be better.  Some of you have trials and problems that you handle with such grace and good attitudes that it helps me to deal better with my own much easier problems.  Some of you have provided me with the best memories that I think about on a daily basis.  Some of you are so giving, some so open, and some so smart.  Some of you allow me to let down all my barriers and be my real self, and some of you just get me completely.

I am the type of person who is quick to complain, quick to have a bad attitude, and quick to feel sorry for myself.  I am often annoyed with other people when they don’t behave exactly the way I want.  I often find it difficult to get outside myself to think about how others are feeling/why they might be acting the way they are.  But you, Awesome People, you always not only remind me that even really awesome people are human and by extension help me extend a little bit of consideration to less awesomes, but also you remind me that I am so blessed to know you.

So thanks, Awesome People.  Thank you for being so awesome.  I don’t know what I would do without you.

Seriously,
Kelsey

Dear Really Scary {tiny} Orange Spider That Climbed On The Steering Wheel While I Was Driving In The Carpool Lane With No Shoulder,

What were you thinking? Were you trying to kill me, my children, and possibly the people in the other lanes? Don’t you know that spiders are really scary and to come out at such an inopportune time is pretty much unthinkable?

I am not sorry I used my cell phone to try to kill you by smashing it haphazardly on the steering wheel. You should be sorry because pretending I was an adult and telling myself {aloud} that it was “just a spider” wasn’t working, and therefore you were endangering everyone around. In fact, you are probably to blame for most of the bad drivers on the road, and the next time I see someone crossing into my lane or swerving like a maniac I will now assume that you or one of your evil cousins have hopped onto their steering wheel as well!

If your bad behavior wasn’t enough, when I thought I had smashed you to bits with my phone, you had to go and pop back out again! Couldn’t you have at least played dead, or stayed in your hiding spot so I could regain some composure and drive safely? Then after more swatting you had to jump to the floor, leaving me the rest of the 15 min drive wondering when you would reappear and if that was you climbing up my leg or not. So totally uncalled for.

But the final blow? When I got back into the car later and found your web carefully placed across the steering wheel, as if to mark your territory. It’s on Orange Spider, it’s on. {Just kidding, I’m wussy. Please please please just get out of my car, seriously!}

Terrified Of Tiny Orange Spiders,

Kelsey

Here is a little recap of how my attempts went for your enjoyment/disgust:
Call #1: Receptionist tells me they can’t see me because they haven’t seen me before. [Maybe this means they are not taking new patients, but I am not really sure.] She suggests I go to the emergency room or urgent care clinic [because I really want to pay a lot more money] She takes my phone number anyway and says she will talk to someone.

Call #2: This place can see a new patient in a month. Remember the part about moderately urgent ailment [which I openly told her that I am purposefully withholding on the blog]? Like need to see someone today that I just told you about? How about in a month? No. I ask her for suggestions and she tells me I can call “[ghetto] clinic X by Ikea. They are taking new patients.” I write down the number because perhaps I am desperate.

Call #3: Clinic not open yet (It’s after 9am by now!)

Call #4: Ghetto clinic. On hold, meanwhile Nurse from Call #1 calls back. I hang up on ghetto clinic’s hold music. She asks more questions, then asks if I can come in immediately. I want to hug her.

Should it really be that hard to get a doctor’s appointment for the same day?

Which brings me to my next point:

Dear Ecuador,

There are a lot of things about you that are a lot harder than they should be. Going to the doctor is not one of those things. I love that I can call almost any doctor and go see them that day. Oh sure, if I need an x-ray or something I may have to go a couple blocks over and wait for a bit but it is still really easy. Also that when I visit any of your doctors, I pay $20. To the doctor. Or sometimes the receptionist if it’s fancy. And that’s it. No insurance, not much paperwork, just call or go in to the clinic, pay the money, get treatment. I am really missing you today.

Fondly,
Kelsey

P.S. I am really missing your abundant and cheap produce. A lot.

Dear Lady “Selling” Swimsuits at Costco,

I am pretty sure that it is your job to help people, to tell them interesting information about the promotional item, and to answer any questions they may have. I am pretty sure it is not your job to tell prospective swimsuit buyers they are fat. Seriously.

I was in such a good mood, upon entering Costco and finding that one of my favorite shirt makers was now making swimsuits. But then you had to go and tell me several helpful hints to make my day better:

1. “You definitely need the bigger size” (thank you, I am aware, and also I didn’t ask)
2. “You should get the one piece because children change your body and it’s not time for bikini bottoms anymore” (um, first, I didn’t ask, second, there were no bikinis and I was looking at tankinis with an ample bottom piece, and third, SHUT IT)
3. Repeat various forms of #1 and #2

Just because someone may be still be carrying their baby (ok cookie) weight, doesn’t mean that you can call them fat. Especially if you are trying to sell them swimwear. I suggest for the future you stick to the following talking points:

1. “You would look very skinny and attractive in that!”
2. “These suits are so modest! The bottoms are extra high and top extra long for maximum coverage.”
3. “Since you asked, the appropriate size for you would be….”
4. “You would look so amazing and good-looking in that suit!”
5. “I bet every suit looks good on you!”

Just try it. I promise you will sell more suits.

I bought the smaller size and it fit anyway, in your face,
Kelsey

You called me. You lowered my bill and gave me more channels. You told me how to fix the bad signal (and even offered to have someone come to my house for free to check it out). You told me to tell my friends that if they have problems they should call you too. That was very Comcastic indeed.

BFF (until 6 months when the promotion runs out),
Kelsey