On Paper With Pen

Well, not quite.  Tonight I typed a letter to a friend whom I have not heard from for quite a while.  I decided to cut the chit chat and just type out an update.  It went something like this and I thought it may as well be a decent post since I have no motivation to do anything productive this evening:

"Hi, my name is Wendy Connerly. I am Amy S's friend. Just not a very good one. I have a husband who is hairy but nice. I have a five year old son, a three year old son, and a three year old daughter. The boys are white boys from my white American womb of mixed European decent. My daughter is a tan little Chinese baby from China which is where Chinese babies come from. She has been in my daydreams for a decade.  We adopted her three months ago. She can say "pizza" and "poo poo". I am in love with her pretty tan skin and I will always tell her how pretty it is. We're pluggin' along. Always tired and always complaining about how annoying we are for being tired. We eat a fairly healthy diet of mostly raw foods -- not because Mommy is a hip raw foodists, but rather because she despises cooking and gives the kids cucumbers instead of casseroles. Except for on Sundays when we get delicious McDonald's after church and then feel bad for the chemicals that are probably killing our kids. I make myself feel better by giving them cucumbers for dessert. We have a stinky dog who is also hairy and also nice. I have horrible handwriting and it is getting worse from lack of practice. I also have crackers. My three year old son has longish hair, pudgy feet, an obsession with picking at his fingers, and cars. He's nice and soft. My five year old son is a lot like me and he likes nature. He is also afraid of bugs. He also likes stories about missionaries. My daughter has heart shaped lips and more gas than a person her size should ever be capable of producing. This is from the worms who have lived in her guts for the past three years. My husband went to the store tonight and bought mangoes, bananas, and deep fried sweet potatoes. Not very healthy, but I plan to supplement with whole grains. My marriage is good and steady, but we need time alone together which is never going to happen. We plan to supplement with leafy greens. I have many friends, but I like to hang out at home. They call me a hermit and it bugs me but only a little because I don't see them often enough to hear them say this in order for it to bug me. It also bugs me a little because it always makes me think of those poor hermit crabs that they sell at kiosks in the mall and their shells have been painted in ridiculous colors and patterns which is so degrading and must make them feel shameful for being born hermit crabs. Being in the mall must be the last straw for them. I imagine that they must not live very long being painted so horribly and having to breathe in the mall. Plus I don't like crab very much and those are some reasons why I do not like the word "hermit". It has little or nothing to do with me. I have a telephone and indoor plumbing. I do not have call-waiting because I am too lazy to call the phone company and alter our plan. I do not plan to ever call them. I have a mobile phone but I do not text. I would get into more trouble than usual if I did so. I have a mother and a father. They are ridiculous. That is something I would text if I texted and it would get me into trouble because I would text it on the wrong day to the wrong person like the nurse at the doctor's office or the guy taking our order at the taco place which makes the very lovely Baja Fish Tostada which does not contain any crab. I also have a house. The floors are dirty. I can feel the dust on the wood. Maybe tomorrow I will vacuum and mop the floors. Or maybe I will just do the dishes, scoop poop outside from our hairy but stinky and nice dog, and wait for my husband to get home."

~w