Oh, but it's been so long since I wrote to one of my daughters. . . . Yay!

My Dearest Veggie,

So great to hear from you yesterday.

I am - however - a wee-bit confuzzled.

When you said (and I quote . . . )

ps. did I tell you im going to italy and okoberfest for my birthday? well, i am. i saved up. i leave for italy on the 23rd and go to munich from friday till sunday, then back to florence for a few more days. Yay!
I'm curious. What - exactly - did you save up?

Was it money? 'Cause if it was actual money in the form of pounds, dollars, euro, or rubles. . . did you save any of it for me??? I could have used it to cover your latest overdraft charges. (Yay!) And last I checked, dear Veggie, you owe me an astronomical amount of currency from your last little jaunt on the European mainland when I had to bail you out of the City of Love!
If I get even the teeniest-weensiest little email from you about overdoing your Ein Prosits and needing me to refuel your bank account, I will have no choice. . . no recourse. . . no alternative . . . but to take the proper action.

I will have to call you Ponzi.2 from now on.

And you don't want that, now do you????

Oh yeah. . . and I hope that black Coach bag you left behind wasn't a knock-off. (Why would it be? I probably paid for it somehow. . . . ) I have officially assumed ownership of it and you're never getting it back.

Ever.

Yay!

Money Makes the World Go 'Round. . .

Dear Veggie,

I am in receipt of your latest email from Paris and so have the following to report on the two action items you requested:

1. I have transferred some additional money into your bank account - and YES you will pay me back as soon as you get home (and by "home" I assume you're referring to your new home in the U.K.)
2. The lady from the bank would not take my word for it that you were - in fact - out of the country and informed me that you need to phone the bank in person. The toll-free number is 1-888-IAM-RICH. The very same lady also reminded me that you should have notified them of your overseas jaunts before leaving the states, and added that it was very irresponsible of you to forget your other card as you flitted off to Paris. And when I told her what happened the last time you visited the City of Lights (which, if you need a little memory refresher, you can read all about right here) she asked to verify my address (in order to send me a sympathy card, no doubt. . . )

And so now I hope you appreciate - that for the second time in your short veggie-loving life - your mother has had to come to your rescue and bail you out of Paris.
Now go kiss some frogs.

It's Not Easy Being a Boss/Mom

Remember how Veggie has been working for me in the church office for the past few weeks?

Well perhaps it's not a good idea.

The mother/daughter relationship is fraught with enough pitfalls and perils without adding the strains of an employer/employee relationship to it as well - for listen to what happened when a certain employee was late for work yesterday.

Oh, but I'm getting ahead of myself here. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At 8:00 a.m. I called to Veggie from the foot of the stairs at home. . .

Me: Veg? (I call her that for short, you know . . . it's somehow more endearing. . . ) Veg?

Veggie: Wha?????

Me: Listen. I know you were out until 2:30 in the morning again, but you have to get to work as soon as you can. We've got a big funeral today and I need you in the office before 9:00. I'm leaving now. Did you hear that?

Veggie: Yeah. . .

Me: Promise me you'll get up????

Veggie: Yeah. . . .

So when she still hadn't appeared at 9:25, I placed a call to her in desperation. . .

Veggie: Whaaa????

Me: Did I just wake you up???

Veggie: Whaaa???? Oh . . . I mean. . . . No. . . .

Me: Are you on your way into work???

Veggie: Almost.

Me: (Under my breath, 'cause I never curse out loud. . . especially in the church office. . . ) Jesus Christ!

Veggie: I am not a piece of crap!!!! And don't you call me that again!!!!

And with those parting words, Veggie hung up on me.

A second letter to my eldest daughter

My Dearest Daughter,

It seems that just yesterday I was writing to you in Guatemala - and, yes, I was as proud as a mother could be.

But now that you've returned to the States, my darling, I need to ask you one teenie, tiny question . . .



Where the hell are you????

As I waved goodbye to you when the last of your laundry was done on Wednesday afternoon, you led me to believe that you and your beloved little car (what did you name that car anyway?) were headed in a northerly direction to return to Connecticut for your last semester of college.

Now I can see from the trail your debit card leaves, that instead, you headed southbound. And word on the street is that you may be crashing on your cousin's couch in a unnamed town on the Chesapeake where a certain Midshipman attends the Naval Academy.


And, knowing you like I do, I'm quite sure your little I-can-change-the-world attitude has led you to believe that you can bop on over to D.C. (where you have another cousin with a couch) for a certain presidential inauguration.

Your intentions may be noble, my darling, but I foresee one small problem. . . . (you do know I'm psychic, don't you?)


When your father finds out you have not yet reported for spring semester, he will rip that precious car away from you quicker than you can say "Silly Macaroon!"
If you do not have a car at school, my darling, you will be forced to walk the two uphill miles from your beach house to campus each day! What's worse, you will not be able to get that elusive part-time job that you have been promising since September - the proceeds of which would provide you with some spending money and help to offset the costs of letting you live upon this earth.

And another thing. . . you should be aware of the fact that permit girl is scheduled to get her driver's license in less than three weeks. As you know, she would be more-than-happy to take that car off of your hands, and will be doing everything she can to add fuel the fire on the homefront in your absence.


Oh, and in case you were wondering . . . I have miraculously eeked out just enough money from your college savings plan to pay for this last semester. There is no more where that came from.

Zip! Zero! Zilch!

(It's Trigger Finger Girl's turn to go to college next, and I have vowed that no financial meltdown will come between me and TFG's departure from the nest.)

And so, my dear, I strongly suggest you hop into that little (damn it, what did you name that car anyway???) and head straight up 95 - not pausing (well, unless the police are chasing you) until you hit the Connecticut state border.
With all wishes for a speedy and safe journey, I remain. . . .

Your Loving Mother

p.s. While staying at your cousin's house, please remember to follow the bathroom etiquette I posted earlier in the week - especially the part about shower hairballs.

Just saying. . .