Gotta go—Paul, my sister and my girlfriends are luring me to a new club in the Meatpacking District tonight, where they’re throwing me a surprise party for my thirtieth birthday. So I need to work on my astonishment. How’s this:
Oh, my God!
*SHRIEK* I don’t believe it!!
*SOBBING* I love you guys!!!
Take care and stay safe—
Thanks for the wasabi peanuts! I ate half of one last night and am still sweating. Awesome! I did have to beat off most of my men, though. Those vultures thought I would share.
Wow. You totally had me fooled on the surprise party thing. Nice job. Which option did you finally go with? The sobbing? How was the party?
You asked about how I wound up in the army. That actually is tied to the auction house. When I was about ten, we conducted the auction of a collection of military memorabilia from the Napoleonic Wars, which was a refreshing change from paintings, jewelry and Tiffany lamps, let me tell you. This led to an obsession with Napoleon… Alexander the Great… Patton… If you can think of a great general, I’ve read about him. This led me and my brother to West Point, and the rest is history.
But I will get back to the auction house one day. It’s in my blood.
What else did you ask about?
Oh, yeah—we do have a service dog—her name is Chesley, and she’s a mine-sniffing border collie mix. She’s supposed to sleep with her handler, but she’s not the faithful type. I’ve woken up to find her snuggled up to me on more than one memorable occasion. She also enjoyed the wasabi peanuts, so that tells you how cool she is. She’s saved our hides many times.
Wedding update? Here it is: there’s not going to be one. Skylar dumped my ass before I shipped out. Turns out she doesn’t “love me like she should.” That’s what she says, anyway. So I guess it’s good she didn’t marry me, eh?
I’m not sure how I feel about the whole thing at the moment, to tell you the truth. Angry? Relieved? Hurt?
What about you and Paul? Any wedding bells and 2.5 kids in your future? If so, tell Paul he’s a lucky guy.
Gotta go—lights out—
That is all.
P.S. I enclosed some Indian snack mix that is even hotter than the wasabi peanuts. Eat with caution! Oh, and some candy, since Halloween is coming up. Hope you like Skittles!
P.P.S. Paul is, of course, lucky, because, let’s face it, I’m a fabulous woman. But I’m not sure that I’m ready to settle down or that he’s THE ONE, whatever that means. Although he does throw a great surprise party with plenty of dancing.
P.P.P.S. Chesley is a border collie mix? I love border collies—they’re so smart and beautiful. I’ve always wanted a dog. Maybe one day…
What is this “the one” nonsense you women are always yammering about? Either you love the guy, or you don’t.
P.S. Thanks for the Indian snack mix. The steam finally stopped coming out of my ears and my eyebrows are beginning to grow back. Cool! Chesley and I really enjoyed the Skittles.
Oh, and if you want a dog, get a dog! What’re you waiting for?
Your ignorance appalls me! I will, however, try to put the concept into teeny-tiny words that even an ignoramus like you can understand. THE ONE is the person who provides the sunshine in your life. They bring it with them when they come, and take it with them when they leave. Duh.
That’s what my friends tell me, anyway. I’m not sure I believe in the whole concept. I blame this skepticism on my father, who walked out on the family when I was about ten and my sister, Gloria, was twelve. Aren’t you glad you asked?
P.S. Here is your Christmas care package, which contains six varieties of hot sauce, including the scary green ones, several hot snacks guaranteed to make your eyeballs shoot out of their sockets, and a small painting of mine called Sol Splendor. See the orangey bright swirls and swoops? That’s the sun. This will, hopefully, let you know if you’ve met THE ONE. Or at least brighten a tiny corner of your wall.