(Picasa 3 rocks. Just so you know.)
Item #1: She's So Unusual.
This is Paige, my unique child. The number one reason I'm blogging today is to share with you this piece of correspondance I found sitting on our coffee table this morning. But first, a coffee table note from earlier in the week.
"Dear Santa I just want to say merry Christmas. P.S. I hope my brown stuff dog is fixed and I reall want it to look brand new. Here it is. From Paige Veen. Was I a good girl?"
The deal is, she's figured out that Santa's got a whole big workshop where he works on toys, so it only stands to reason, if the ear falls off your favorite 'stuff dog', sweet talk the man in red, and presto... free toy repairs.
And today:
Paige's handwriting: "Dear Santa can you come to my school pleas? Can you also write your anser right under these qustins pleas?"
Chantze's handwriting: "No I will not, I hate kids and school and really hate little girls that tell me to right this crap so stop asking."
I'm so proud of my son. It's exactly what I would have written if I'd found the note first.
Paige's handwriting (on back): "P.S. If I'm still coughing on Christmas can you get me cogh drops so I don't cought pleas?"
Item #2: Prescription for Ham.
Just thought I'd share this cuz it's had me chuckling for a few days now. One of the doctors I work with is super-rich, and super-busy, and super-generous, but super-busy. CRAZY busy. The man seems to like working with me and he's always sure to ask about my family, although I know he'll never remember their names. But that's okay. He makes up for it with that generousity thing I mentioned. Friday afternoon, at the end of our last surgery together, he's charting in the corner of the operating room and he's got his prescription pad out. He says, "Hey Ray, do you and your family like to eat ham?" (He's a foreigner, did I mention?) Then he's holding out a little slip of paper, "You take this to my butcher, he knows me, he will give you a nice ham."
He had honest-to-God written 'ham for Christmas' on one of his scripts. I was like, "Dude, did you just write me a prescription for meat?"
Item #3: Weather recap.
This was probably really irresponsible, but the snow was so high on my back deck, I had to grab the closest thing to demonstrate the scale of the depth. This photo probably cost me my best guitar. (The bottom edge that you can see -- that's eighteen inches up from my carpet -- crazy, no?)