Open Letters: Yeah. It's September.

Dear Lady Sitting Behind us at O'Charley's on Saturday night:

You know, Jason and I really don't get many opportunities to go anywhere together alone. Really we don't. And if we do, it's someplace like Chick-Fil-A. Not that Chick-Fil-A is not the shizzle. It is. And not that O'Charley's is some fancy place. It's not. But I don't have to carry my own trash to the receptacle and for right now? That's about as fancy as we get, especially since we are saving up for our next house.

Our good time was tainted, however, by your utter bitchiness.

First of all, I'm not really sure why you don't understand this but for realsies. Not everyone in the entire restaurant needs to know your every thought and feeling. Perhaps you are in some way hearing-impaired. If so, that's very unfortunate. However, I am inclined to believe that you just feel you are so much more important than everyone else that we should all be forced to endure your myriad opinions. On everything.

Because in the thirty or so minutes you were sitting behind me? You insulted:

-The waitress ("She looks so trashy!"), because you felt her jeans were too tight
-Some girl you saw at the Tennessee Valley Fair ("She had THREE tattoos! Only sluts get tattoos!")
-Another girl you saw at the Tennessee Valley Fair ("And she was HOLDING HANDS with a BLACK MAN! And had a MIXED BABY!")
-Apparently like your niece or something ("And I told Sarah that she was NO-COUNT!")
-A lady sitting across from you ("I can see her boobies!")
-Maybe even your husband ("What's that smell?")

And then? You started talking about what you were going to wear to church the next day.

And I? Had to physically restrain myself from turning around and asking you what church you go to and then when you told me smiling and saying, "Thanks so much for telling me. Now I know where to NEVER, EVER go".

I'm pretty sure Jesus adores my husband and he has a tattoo (also, he's not a slut). Jesus loves that girl who *GASP* married a black guy too, and loves the man she's with AND their baby. I'm positive of that. He loves your niece even if she's a huge screw-up, he loves that waitress who had on tight pants (and if I had a butt like hers I might wear pants that tight too, frankly), and he loves your long-suffering mate. Even if he smells.

Honey I know it's hard because, let's face it, I do love to snark. But I promise, Jesus doesn't want you presenting that kind of attitude and then telling people you're a Christian. He still loves you when you do that, but he's making that disapproving face, much like he does when I name my little piglets in Farmville after boys who spurned me in high school. And no one wants that. So let's both try to do better. Okay?

Thanks!
Stephanie





Dear Yet-to-be-born Baby of my friend,

Stop giving your mom so much stress and stay put. I mean it.

Love,
Auntie Stephie




Dear My Current House,

Okay, really? You and I have never gotten along the way I wanted to. You've never been quite big enough for me. The neighborhood in which you reside has been a bit questionable at times. You've never had the closet space I needed and you've never been just exactly right. We both knew what we were getting when we came together, and that's okay.

So I get that you don't exactly like me, but for God's sake, do you have to have so very much for me to do before you and I can part ways? By last count there are 19 things I have to do before I can even let other people consider you. NINETEEN.

Your next owners will probably love you more than I do (sorry). So let's try to get them here sooner.

Kisses!
Your (hopefully not much longer) owner





Dear Husband,

You are cute. I like you lots. I especially like that people frequently ask if we are newlyweds and you say things like, "Yes! We've only been married eight years!"

You are pretty cool.

Love,
Your Wife





Dear Person who hates me but doesn't realize yet how much they need me,

You're not making it any better for yourself.

You just aren't.

It's okay to spend a little time being bitter and sad. Crying is even okay. Screaming is okay. Being angry is okay.

For a little while.

But you are letting it consume you. Every conversation, every thought, every feeling. It's not necessary, it's not okay, and all you are doing is hurting yourself and everyone around you. And a lot of the people around you? Weren't really all that keen on you before. So you're making it a lot worse. A lot.

Life hands you a bum deal sometimes. All you can do is accept it, accept your part in it, and try to move past it. It's really easy to blame the other party and it's really easy to make it all about someone else, but actually? You did a lot. You contributed a lot to this failure. A whole, whole lot.

Accept it. Own it. And do better next time.

Wishing you peace today, for real, even if you don't believe it because you hate my guts,
Stephanie