Saturday, November 14, 2009

One Poor Correspondant

Dearest Veggie,

I'm sorry to be a meddling parent, but I have a quick question for you.


The last time we spoke - which I believe was somewhere around Halloweenish - we discussed making a reservation for your flight home from the U.K.  And I can't help but notice that Continental withdrew a large sum of money from your bank account in early November.  And I do remember you said something about visiting Prague . . . and Dresden. . .  and Berlin before leaving Europe.  Oh yes, and you also said you were going to squeeze in one last trip to the Old Sod . . .

But could you possibly give me the date of your return?

Or just drop me a little line to let me know you're alive?

Keep in mind. .  .because you're no longer using your U.S. debit card, I have lost my only means of knowing where you are.   Little did I think I ever miss the days of my virtual vacation - piecing together your life on the continent by watching account withdrawals - the fish and chips in London. . .  . sweater in Dublin. . .  pub in Paris. . . I felt like I was right there with you.

And to be brutally honest, Trigger's new life at college is not nearly as interesting as yours.  From the looks of her spending habits, it seems she only goes to tanning salons and drinks coffee. B-O-R-I-N-G!

So, you know I don't like to be a buttinsky . . . nor do I wish to meddle in your affairs. . . And it's not like I'm  asking you if you've eaten your vegetables or gone to church or anything. . . .I just want to know that you're alive.

And, assuming that you are, I'd like to know when you're coming home.

'Cause I'll have to give up my blogging room.  And I want to know when I have to move out all my stuff.  Like the elephant.  But perhaps you'll like the elephant and find yourself wanting to keep it. .  . and the fake orchid. . . I bet you'll like that. . .and the photo of the lotus blossom. .  . in fact, you may find you want to leave the room exactly as it is until you move back out of the house again.  (And do you know when - exactly - that will be?  'Cause if you do, I'll like to know that too. .  .)

p.s. Your return home comes just in time.   Ponzi is growing frightfully bored being an "only"child.   She's forcing me to get pedicures and go out for sushi.  I've tried to pawn her off on your father, but he says real men don't get pedicures . . . or put on little goggles and go tanning.   Wimp.

You'll have to take over for me.