Dear Person Who Pulled in Front of a Long Line of Cars To Get into the Elementary School Parking Lot,

I realize you’re in a hurry, and that long line is a real bummer, but that is no excuse for driving in through the out door, out door.  There is a lane for driving IN the parking lot–that would be the lane that the rest of us driving IN were IN.  Then there’s a lane for driving OUT of the parking lot–that would be the lane that cars driving OUT drive OUT of.  They can’t drive OUT if you’re driving IN in the same place.  You dig?  In addition to being rude, it’s just not safe.

And no, this isn’t sour grapes because you took the parking space that could have been mine if you’d been following the rules.  No, Jethro, this is about the children.  Thank you.



Dear Girlfriend,

You know you’re supposed to wear your socks when you play on the indoor playground.  It’s the rule.  Not my lame-o killjoy rule, but the rule of that fine establishment that provides the inflatable bouncy toys.  If you do take off your socks, though, you should stay in the bouncy toy structure, where I can’t see you and force you to put them back on.

Oh, and I saw you try to hide the socks behind the inflatable bouncy thing.  A bold move, to be sure.  Just not quite bold enough.  Better luck next time, girl.



Dear President Obama,

Yeah, I figured as long as I’m writing letters, why not drop you a line as well?  Look, I just wanted to tell you how impressed I am with your ability to say stuff that is nakedly false but say it in such a way that even the most hard-nosed conservatives hesitate to call it “lying.”

I remember back when Bill Clinton was President–remember how they used to call him “Slick Willie”?  good times–he would say something, and it would seem to consist of verifiable facts, but knowing it was coming from him, one could only think it had to be covering up something nefarious.  You, sir, are a completely different kind of talent.  You say stuff that everyone–everyone–knows isn’t true, and yet you say it so calmly and sincerely that even cynical folks like me find themselves searching desperately for the grain of correct information they are convinced is hiding in that big, fat, obvious not-truthness.  How do you do it?  Don’t answer that, you’ll only make more work for me.

Your obedient,

M. Housewife

P.S.  Your hair looks fine.

Dear First Lady Obama,

Is that the appropriate title?  I feel funny calling you Michelle.  Anyway, just wanted to tell you, pay no heed to the haters:  you ROCK those sleeveless outfits.  You’ve got great arms–no need to hide them under a bushel and whatnot.  Those critics are just jealous.  They probably have puny, flabby arms like mine.  Next time someone gives you grief about your clothes, you just look them in the eye and say, “Don’t you have more important things to worry about, like the economy going down the toilet?”  Deflect, deflect, deflect!

Just one Mormon lady living vicariously through your bare arms,