Photo facts...

I’ve been tagged by Ashmystir to post 5 facts about myself to be illustrated by photos. Thanks for the tag!

Eek. The trouble was deciding which facts would be the least embarrassing.

1.) I am a card carrying member of the geek club. Sadly, yes, that is one of the less embarrassing facts.

I was probably the only person crying at my college graduation because I was done with school rather than the fact I was scared of the ‘real’ world.

And, I ‘read’ books on CD.

A lot.

But what else am I going to do while: cleaning, feeding the dogs, cooking, walking, shopping at Target…?

So. I took a picture of my rented library books for this week…

(P.S. Oprah, your book club sucks. I’ve never read a more depressing collection of literature in my life. If I feel like becoming suicidal, I’ll check into your recommendations)

2.) I’m frugal. Hubby darling likes to call me… cheap.

Whatever.

Our heater doesn’t kick on until the temp hits 53.

I’m just hoping leg warmers will come back into style when we have kids. Then maybe I could dip it down to 48.

3.) I LOVE to travel. OK, so most of my traveling is to and from Hilberto’s Mexican Food Restaurant but I like to travel further on occasion.

4.) Most of my friends are blonde. I didn’t realize this until I was flipping through my pictures. BUT, I do live in California and rumor has it... we're all mostly blonde.

Let’s overlook the fact that two of my friends are by force – I mean – by obligation. One by marriage and the other because she’s dating my brother. I think the others stick around out of morbid curiosity. Never the less, they are a great group of girls and I love them.

5.) I have a totally awesome family. Sure sometimes I walk around with them pretending to be the person employed for the crazy home they hail from and I’m just taking them for some exercise but there are times when I almost want to claim I’m related to them. Few. But some times.

And to pass this on, I am tagging Lizard Breath at Cherishing the Little Hands because she’s got nothing better to do with her time. 3 toddlers with a baby almost here? She’s probably watching Oprah right now. I'm tagging Colegate of One Mom’s Dreams because I’m sure she actually is watching Oprah. Tallon told me she was. I’m tagging Cousin Lisa of Life the Great Adventure because I don’t see enough of her. I’m tagging Cousin Megan from I am the Turtle because she just had a kidlet and I haven’t seen it. And last, I'm tagging my new sister in law, Lindsey, who doesn’t have a BLOG but needs one. How else are we supposed to talk about her behind her back unless she gives us some good gossip?

The rules for this meme are as follows:
1. Link to your tagger and post these rules.
2. Share 5 facts about yourself
3. Tag 5 people at the end of your post and list their names (linking to them).
4. Let them know they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment at their blogs.

Happy Birthday Paula!

Ready to head to Ireland again?!?!?!


To my favorite foreign travel buddy:



I know it will be difficult to have a good birthday since I'm not there, but try your best.



*wink*

Happy Birthday Rev!

Trevor,

Hope you have an awesome birthday! Remember, out of all the aunties, you love me most ... right?!?!?

Love you!

What a weekend…

Chris and John surprised Lindsey and I with a trip to Temecula to go wine tasting. We took a half day at work on Friday and enjoyed a rare traffic-free trip up North. We spent Friday and Saturday enjoying the scenery and the beautiful wineries.



Our hotel room:


Chris looking at the floor above trying to figure out who was stomping. John was the guilty party.





Cocktail hour at the hotel:



When they said, 'All you can eat', John-E took them seriously...

Keyways...

John and his sippy cup...

South Coast...

Dude, can you hand me my sunglasses? Or not...

Saturday night, we rushed up to mom and dad’s to visit with James, Stef, and the girls who had flown down from Sacramento. It was good to see all of them, we don’t see quite enough of their beautiful faces.

Sunday, Chris’ family came over for dinner. Mike, Stacy, Steven, Jeremy, Josh, Tim, and Heather all came by for a couple hours to play video games on the new TV and visit. Chris made his smoked chicken while I made focaccia bread and chocolate chip cookies. I accidentally over kneaded the bread and made it a little too solid but hey, at least no one could doubt it was home-made!

Flashback Friday…

As I was shaving this morning I couldn’t help but smile and remember the very first time my legs were shaved…



Growing up, our family naturally split into clicks. Paula and James were in their own world, Lizzy and Cole were best friends, and John, Mike, and I were attached at the hip.

So it should come as no surprise that I wasn’t the most ‘feminine’ of the girls. John, Mike, and I were the reason mom had to enact the ‘shower at least once per week’ rule.

When I hit 13, Cole would constantly tell me that I needed to shave my legs. I was completely aware of the hour and a half it took her and Liz to get ready and I wanted NOOOOO part of that business.

Cole had started shaving at about the age of 9 declaring to mom, ‘I fell in the shower and the razor accidentally shaved my legs.’ She was a die hard fan of hairlessness.

Months went by while Cole and I continued to debate the issue.

Cole was a rather plump teen and would frequently use her weight to intimidate the rest of us.

And by intimidate, I mean… sit on us (which is probably why Liz and I have permanent serious cases of claustrophobia). She’d tell you to do something and if you didn’t, she would sit on you until you caved (literally and figuratively).

One summer afternoon, I walked into the bedroom Cole, Liz, and I shared wearing a tiny pair of purple shorts. Cole angrily glared at me while I walked by her with my defiantly unshaven legs. She calmly walked out and came back in 3 minutes later with a can of shaving cream, a razor, and a very intimidated Lizzy at her side.

She quickly cornered me, shoved me to the ground, and sat on me while screaming to Lizzy, ‘Spray her down with shaving cream and go! Go! Go!!!’

I tried to fight back but quickly realized that fighting back resulted in nicks from the razor.

10 long minutes later, my legs were cleanly shaved. I told Nicole I hated her and went into the bathroom to rinse off. As I put my legs under the cool water, I rubbed my hands on them to wash off the patches of blood mixed with shaving cream and noticed… they felt really… nice.

I dried them off and stared at them in the mirror while thinking, ‘Holy cow! I have cool looking legs!’

I never admitted to Cole that I actually liked the result but I continued to shave under the argument that I didn’t like ‘itchy, spiky’ legs.

I’m not sure when I would have started shaving. Probably when I began to think boys were cute when I was like… 20.

So, thank you Cole for sitting on me – that time and ONLY that time. I like my legs.

Silly Chris…

I got home from work tonight and noticed Chris sitting on the couch with a huge grin just staring at his TV. Near the front door was a sealed box from our cable service provider… the box containing our high definition cable box.

‘Hon, you’ve been home for an hour and you haven’t pried open this box yet?!?!?’ I asked while leaning down to pick up the package.

I flipped it over and noticed he had already tore it open, installed the HD box above the TV, put the old cable box in the package and sealed it to mail it to our cable company.

He just nodded his head in my general direction. ‘Babe, I already took care of…’ then he cut himself off, transfixed by the HD NFL network which is now showing crystal clear re-runs.

This. Is my new life.

It was nice knowing him.

Ten minutes before his class was to start, he tore himself away running out the door hoping to make it in time.

I tidied up the house, did the dishes, and started to open the mail HE brought in. In all his efforts to watch his new TV in High Def, he missed this very important letter:

Dear Christopher:

Congratulations! You have been admitted to San Diego State University for the Fall 2008 semester. Each year, our selection requirements become increasingly rigorous, and you should take pride in the fact that you are among our highly qualified admitted students…


There were a record number of applicants this year (somewhere in the neighborhood of 65,000) and he didn’t think he would make it.

But he’s in class tonight totally unaware that he made it…

So I’m celebrating by myself.

Cheers!

We’ll take that one…

For the last 3+ years, Chris has worked odd jobs on the weekends. We use this money to vacation, pay bills, pay dental bills… you get it.

He has never asked to keep any of the money for himself, he simply hands over the checks for me to deposit into our account.

This weekend, he worked Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday. He had already spent Monday through Thursday up late into the wee hours of the morning working on homework and rather than kick back, he went out to earn us some extra money.

The guilt was overwhelming.

So while he was out ‘working hard for the money’, I looked into making his fantasy into a reality…

Getting a big screen plasma HD TV.


I did a little research and made some decisions.

Last night he got home from work completely exhausted. I mentioned my idea and it took about 8 seconds for him to get into his truck and start yelling for me to hurry up.


At our destination, I pulled out my 4 pages of 10 point font research and started saying, ‘OK, this one received an 8.3 rating and this one received a 7. BUT, this one received a high customer satisfaction rating which I trust a little more because it’s normal people looking at it, not super judgmental computer geeks. And according to the average reviewer, at a distance of 6 feet, the optimal resolution is…’


Chris started laughing, grabbed my face, and kissed me.

Hmm. Two things. 1-He’s excited to get a TV. 2-He could care less about my research.

I gave in, pointed, and said, ‘In short, if you like this one, buy it.’

He loaded it onto the cart and started walking through the store. Every guy in the place was looking at him and smiling in complete envy.

I was tempted to ask him if he wanted to do a victory lap around the store but decided against it because… he probably would have.

So now I have a tiny living room with a ridiculous looking 50 inch plasma HDTV and a husband who hasn’t stopped smiling since yesterday.




Thank you honey for being the selfless man you are. You make life a joy.



Out with the old... in with the new...

Sometimes… I wish my mom wasn’t there…

When I got started in the culinary arts program and mom joined with me, I was thinking, ‘Yeah, this will be fun. We’ll be able to hang out and learn new things together.’

But I’ve learned that having dear ol’ mom there isn’t so great sometimes.


Going to class with mom is like going to class with Jesus.


At the end of our lab session, we have to sign out. On Tuesday, the crowd surrounding the sign out sheet was thick. I was next in line but a guy came out of nowhere and attempted to take the sheet from my hands. Fortunately, one of my lab partners grabbed it back and gave it to me. I signed the sheet and the sign out stealing guy expectantly jabbed his hand in front of me and grunted for my pen. No ‘Please may I use your pen?’, or even a ‘Do you mind?’, nothing. Just a belittling grunt, like I don’t even deserve to be spoken to like a real human being. I stopped and stared at him with complete indignation then clicked my pen shut and said, ‘Actually, it’s my pen and I’m leaving. Use your own!’ with all the attitude of Kanye West at the Grammy’s.

Mom just looked at me and nodded her head in shame.

Sure my tone wasn’t exactly friendly but I followed it with a fake smile. That has to count for something!

Mom! He was a jerk!

I swear I heard her moral police say, ‘Turn the other cheek’ and ‘Do unto others’.



Then…

The teacher was in the middle of explaining kitchen safety and said, ‘In case of fire or if you get burning liquids spilled on you, these chef jackets are meant to be ripped right off’ then proceeds to demonstrate by tearing his jacket off, exposing a tight t-shirt clinging to his obviously well toned body.

Drooling in class? Bad idea?

All the girls blush and giggle, meanwhile, mom leans over and whispers, ‘I didn’t know that. What great jackets.’


Uh. Yeah mom. The jackets are great.


So is the chef’s chest.

But I can’t say that. I’m forced to stare at my notebook and say, ‘Jackets. Yeah. Great. Whatever.’



Paula, you should really be in this class.

Sure, he sets off my gaydar but let’s see… he rides a motorcycle, he’s a super great chef, he works out, and…he’s the only teacher I’ve ever had that makes me want to pray for a grease fire.

Happy Anniversary...

... to James and Stef!

Hope it was a good one!!

If you missed it...

Go check out Lizzie's BLOG. Apparently naming kids is a difficult thing but I'm so glad we have the wisdom of our Ozark family members.

http://www.cherishingthelittlehands.blogspot.com/

Flashback Friday…

I’ve decided to flashback to some very dark years in my life. Dark years our family rarely speaks about.

But I can’t stay quiet forever.

I need to break the silence.


I’m talking about…….

Mexico.


Mom and dad never had a lot of extra money lying around. Perhaps that’s because anyone with 7 kids is bound to be broke for life. But somehow, we always had the things we needed and a few extra things we wanted.

Life was good.

Well. Until about 1993 when mom and dad traded hardware supplies with a world renowned orthodontist for braces for 5 of us kids.

The guy was an orthodontic genius who frequently traveled the world training others. Though American, he practiced dentistry on the other side of the border.

Those were the 2 ½ longest… darkest… years of my life. Once a month, we crossed the Mexican border and forever it will haunt us…

I’ve tried to block it out but the occasional nightmare filled with children screaming ‘Chiclets, Chiclets’ while chasing me down the dirty streets of Tijuana wake me and flood my tortured mind with memories.



Our car insurance stopped at the American border so we’d park on the US side and walk across to Tijuana. The big, metal, gates that only spin one way somehow promise that once you leave the United States… you’ll never get back.

Those same gates almost claimed John’s life (This said with the dramatics of a Mexican Soap Opera).

We were walking through the massive metal gates and into Mexico when we heard a long ‘BONG!’ We looked back to see John’s head lodged between the bars on the gate. His flailing body was in Mexico with his screaming head stuck in California.

Once we stopped laughing *cough* I mean, once we ‘assessed the situation’, we recruited some friendly border crossers to hold the gate while we yanked John-E’s head out. He didn’t think it was funny, but the snickering Border Patrol Agents did.



A few months later, John and Mike were required to wear head gear. If you’ve never seen head gear (since most people are ashamed to been seen in public with it) it looks like this:

The orthodontist wouldn’t let John and Mike leave without wearing it so they were forced to go outside… in public… with headgear on. Rather than chalk it up to, ‘These are the embarrassing years in my life and I’m just going to have to deal with it’, they decided to pretend the headgear was a government issued communication device. They would stick their fingers up to the metal protruding from their braced mouths and say, ‘Copy that home base we are on our way’ while busily walking down the streets in Tijuana.

I’m very sure that 13 year old boys with head gear were believable as CIA agents.



Our family group was predominantly female and my two older sisters were gorgeous skinny blonde model types. Unfortunately, this prompted a lot of male gawking and frequent dirty words and gestures. Trying to avoid this, mom would tell us to look at the ground and keep walking – fast.

What she didn’t say was… ‘Watch where you are going’.

That would have been helpful.

As we were walking home one afternoon, I walked full speed into a street sign and knocked myself off my feet.

Sitting on the littered sidewalk, I was suddenly surrounded by tiny children taking advantage of my incapacitated state. ‘Chiclets! Chiclets! Chiclets!’ they yelled. I tried to scream for mom but she took her own advice and kept her eyes down while ‘walking’ about as fast as an Olympic marathon runner.

Thanks.



We survived those years… barely… and we all have beautiful straight teeth but we will forever be haunted our Mexican past (and forever laugh about them over Sunday dinners while mimicking John’s head stuck sideways in the gates – arms flailing).

Thank you Mexico?

And here are some pictures from mom. A fluke storm hit San Diego...

All in favor of global warming say 'Aye'...

Happy Valentine's Day!!!

Chris decided to surprise me with chocolate covered strawberries this year. They were delivered to my office yesterday morning. Is it a bad thing to eat 6 of them before noon?

Have a good one!

Update:

Thanks to dad for the flowers and the strawberries. Sometimes being the bosses daughter is pretty cool. A girl can NEVER have too many strawberries!!

You are soooooo not funny...

We met with our tax guy on Friday. We had to pay $2,600 last year in addition to what we had already paid during the year so I was fearful of what this year held for us.

After inputting our information, our tax guy looked at Chris and I and asked if we thought we were going to have to pay or if we were going to get money back. Chris threw out a highball number guessing a refund while I guessed we were going to have to pay $1,000.

‘Let’s make a deal’ he said while leaning over his desk. ‘You can make one of two choices here. A.) You pay me my $200 fee and I’ll file your taxes as usual. Or you can choose B.) If you owe money to the IRS, you don’t pay my fee but if you get a refund more than Chris guessed, every dollar over the random amount he guessed to get refunded back, we split 50/50.’

Chris excitedly responds, ‘B B B B!! We choose B!’ then he looked at me, ‘Come on babe, we won’t even get how much I guessed! We’d get the filing fee for free!’

‘Uuuuh. I guess.’ I responded shakily, secretly just wanting to toss two Benjamin Franklins on the desk and be done with the shenanigans.

The tax guy smiled. Big.


Bad sign.


The office filled with: Click. Click. Click. Ching. Ching. Ching. Click. Click. Click. Ching. Ching. Ching. Tappity Tap Tap. As he typed on his calculator.

‘You guys owe me….

$381.47. Cash, Check, or Charge?’ He said with a smile. ‘You guys REALLY need to change your deductions.’

Silence.



‘Wait. We are going to get $800 MORE than amount he guessed? And, did you seriously just figure out a cruel way to make me depressed about getting a nice tax refund?!?!’ I gasped.



More silence.


‘Ha ha! Gotcha! Suckers! I wouldn’t do that to you but you should have seen the look on your faces!’ The tax guy laughed.


I don’t think he’s funny.



I’ve never been so grateful for a mortgage payment in my life. Those things are such great tax write offs! I consulted with Colegate and she said kids are good write offs too so I’m thinking about popping one out by the end of the year then selling it on e-bay after I get the tax rebate check.



OK, OK, I wouldn't sell the kid on E-bay. Who do you think I am?!??!?!

I’d actually sell it on Amazon, I think they have a lower commission rate.

The rest of the weekend was fantastic. Maybe that’s because I was riding the ‘I don’t have to pay this year’ high.

John-E, Lindsey, Keira, Casey, Beth, Kelly, and I went to SeaWorld on Saturday.

Saturday night the boys went to Supercross while the girls came over to my house to enjoy some ‘interesting’ games and some good wine.

Sunday we relaxed at mom and pops while Chris smoked some chicken. It was great to see Uncle Jack and Shirley there. She is a super cool lady! We didn’t get back home until after midnight (thanks to mom and that stupid addicting show) but all was well.

A little late....

Sorry dude, I wasn't around a computer this weekend sooooo...

HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY!!!

Can't wait to see you in a few weeks!

California Dental Massacre…

Two entries in one day? Silliness I know, but I've got to distract myself from the pain...

I had to go to the dentist again today. She was replacing my temporary crowns with the permanent ones.

I’ve been through this a time or two…

Or five…

So I know the drill. They pop out the temp, pick off the glue, and cement down the permanent crown.

Not. A. Big. Deal.

Except this time. Apparently, my gums were inflamed and she couldn’t put a permanent crown on inflamed gums so the solution was – drill the gums down.

She called in her assistants to prepare the torture chamber – I mean – the dental appliances and started to burn time with small talk. NORMAL people consider small talk: job questions, weather patterns, family life, etc. But nooooo, my dentist starts talking about politics.

She goes on and on and on about Clinton and Obama as she starts to drill. Then, she stops drilling and looks at me seriously. ‘You are going to vote for Obama right?’ she asked.


Yeah. Right. Like I’m going to claim to be anything but a staunch democrat while you’re wielding a deadly weapon.

‘Go Obama!’ I said with a smile and a thumbs up.


I guess that’s why I don’t work for the CIA. I’d sell out the federal government to avoid an unnecessary root canal.


The dentist started in and everywhere around me looked like a scene from Braveheart. She even stopped the drilling and yelled at the assistant, ‘Go get me the…’ she started snapping in the air trying to jog her memory, ‘Get me the medication that stops the bleeding. And hurry please.’

I popped open my eyes and stared at her in complete fear. ‘Um. Excuse me? Was that supposed to make me feel better?’ is what I would have said had she not jammed a handful of gauze in my mouth.

The assistant rushed back in and filled my mouth with the most painful nasty tasting stuff ever. I’ve smelled lawn fertilizers and weed killer products that would taste better. And it burned! I felt like my mouth was on fire!

After what seemed like an eternity, she finished the crowns. She let me go rinse my mouth and…is this blood on my arm?!?! Actual DROPS of blood on my arm!?!?


Wow.


I’m just glad I didn’t tell her I was a Republican.

That could have been lethal.





Oh, and here’s an article for Colegate and Lizard:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/23018000/?GT1=10856

You ladies know how I feel about that.

But… but…

While surfing the net, I stumbled upon a popular television station looking for America’s worst spaces. This summer, they are filming a design competition and are looking for bad bedrooms, kitchens, backyards, etc.

So… I was thinking…

Why not submit mine?!?

I made two submissions: one for our backyard and another for our kitchen.

The questionnaires required photo submissions so I went home to snap my awful, awful backyard and kitchen.

Unfortunately, we’ve had a lot of rain lately and my previously hideous dirt patch backyard has suddenly sprouted a ton of green weeds. Even more unfortunate, in photos, the weeds look like a lush green lawn.

It’s kinda difficult to say you have the worst backyard in America when it looks like this:

Stupid rain.

I should have put and asterisk on the bottom that said: *Objects in photo are uglier than they appear.

Then, I moved to the kitchen thinking, ‘I’ve got this in the bag!’

Come on, my cabinets are spray painted, my countertop has stains, my oven is only big enough for a Cornish game hen…

And then…

It’s not my fault that my Judy Dench kitchen photographs like Cindi Crawford.

* Please note, I did not say Giselle Bundchen because, like Cindy Crawford, the kitchen is a little older but you can still tell it was really pretty in its younger days.


I considered contacting the DMV to ask what kind of cameras they use but then I decided…

The backyard, despite the weed infestation, has a great view of the city. In the summer, it’s easy to overlook the ugliness of the yard to see the beauty of the valley.

My kitchen is actually kinda cute. Sure, the pilot on the stove clicks for 50 years before lighting and the whole time all I think is, ‘PROTECT YOUR FACE IN CASE OF FIRE!’, sure the fork drawer requires two hands to open, and maybe wine spills on the countertop require a triage of bleach but…

We OWN this house. We OWN it. We get to make our own memories here. And one day, after they tattoo my burned eyebrows back on, I’ll look at the stains on the counter and remember the fun times we had putting them there.

And I realized shouldn’t complain.




… but of course, I submitted the photos anyway.

Just in case.

And that’s when the cake turned to shoe rubber…

We threw an Anti-Super Bowl Party at our house yesterday. We figured, we hate the Patriots and we don’t particularly like the Giants, so let’s boycott the game and throw a party.

Chris spent the morning making 4 different seasoning rubs and mops for the chicken and brisket. He followed it with some amazing homemade BBQ sauce then threw all the meat on the smoker and cooked it for 3 hours until it practically melted in your mouth.

What did I make?

Two types of guacamole: ‘Mild’ and ‘Beg for Mercy’
Rosemary and Olive Oil Focaccia bread
Pound Cake with Sliced Raspberries and Strawberries
Crispy Garlic Potato Wedges
Sangria with Oranges, Green Apples, Strawberries, & Pineapple

Chris and I quickly realized we were a little overzealous in our efforts…

We soon ran out of dishes… and counter space.

When a friend asked for a bowl to make chili cheese dip, I had to pull out a weird crock container for lack of any clean bowl shaped objects.



Everything turned out great – except for the pound cake. The rock solid mass masquerading as my pound cake required a steak knife to penetrate its rubber shell. I wasn’t sure what went wrong in my baking process but I wasn’t about to let anyone see it. I quickly threw it in the trash, covered it with paper plates, and then spent the next two hours starting the following rumors:

a.) Wasn’t the pound cake delicious? Oh you didn’t get a piece? Those silly boys must have chowed down the whole thing before you got to it!

Or

b.) Wasn’t the pound cake delicious? You totally had a piece! I can’t believe you forgot. Maybe you should lay off the Sangria!



I would say the dishes were difficult and a pain but they weren’t bad. Turns out, I had some extra energy. I was kinda excited about a certain team being…

18 and 1.




Dear Tom Brady,

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Rebekah

Flashback Friday...

Technically I'm only flashing back to last month but I'm going to Ruth's Chris Steakhouse tonight - which has nothing to do with flashback Friday, I just wanted to drop that in somewhere, can you tell I'm excited?!?!?

Anyway...

Grams and Gramps gave mom a set of super adorable snowman cooking ornaments from Williams and Sonoma. I absolutely loved them and decided to write grams and gramps a kind letter about them:


Complaint Department
J and J Assoc.
Somewhere in a city ending in - Ville

December 28, 2007

To Whom It May Concern:

On a recent visit to the house of a client, Mrs. Deborah H, I was made aware of some precious items in her possession that perhaps should not be. Ms. H had four (4) snowpeople from Williams and Sonoma hanging from her Holiday Tree (previously known as the politically incorrect, ‘Christmas Tree’).

It is my understanding that these were gifts from you in recognition of her recent Culinary Arts Cooking Class completion. I would like to inform you of the truth because obviously, she has deceived you. Ms. H would not have passed that class without my constant monitoring. Ms. H did not even have adequate transportation or a parking permit. She forced me to drive for her while constantly belittling me and telling me to, ‘shut up you little brat’. Ms. H does NOT deserve any sort of recognition other than that from a law enforcement officer. Frankly, I find it offensive that Ms. H received these snowpeople while I did not.

I’m not sure what kind of people work for J and J Associates, but I question your moral character. The fact that you consort with this ethically bankrupt woman worries me. On the day in question when I took notice of said snowpeople, I was only near Ms. H to serve her with a restraining order.

It is my request that you immediately take back said snowpeople and give them to me.

In your heart, you know what is right.

Thank you for your time,

Rebekah Atkinson
Parole Officer
San Diego County Jail


Unfortunately... grams and gramps had already ordered a set for me... prior to receiving the letter because they heard how much I loved the ornaments. I got the set in the mail a few days later. Oops. Soooo, I had to write another because I think it's very important to take responsibility for your actions. And I NEVER make excuses.


Complaint Department
J and J Assoc.
Somewhere in a city ending in - Ville

January 10, 2008

To Whom It May Concern:

Please accept my deepest apologies for the letter dated December 28, 2007. The Christmas holidays are a busy time here at the jail (all the DUI’s and everything) and I forgot to take my psychiatric medication. Although this is a medical and very personal issue, I feel the need to explain.

I found a copy of the letter to you dated December 28th, 2007 in the trash can. After reviewing the letter, I was shocked and dismayed at what was written. But, I can assure all at Johnson & Johnson, that I did NOT write that letter.

I suffer from Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD) and some of those personalities suffer from Schizophrenia – I know, my doctor says it’s weird. My strongest personality is ‘Beatrice’ and she likes to complain… a lot. Although quite kind at times, she thinks everyone is ‘after her’. I’m sure Mrs. H is a very nice person, but for some reason, ‘Beatrice’ was terrified of her. Please disregard the letter and please… don’t sue me or ‘Beatrice’ for slander.

I am heavily medicated at this time and haven’t seen or heard from ‘Beatrice’ in 10 days. You should be safe from another letter.

Please send me a bill for any and all of your necessary psychotherapy. I receive a bulk discount and have very good insurance.

Oh, and ‘Beatrice’ says thanks for the Snow people. She now plans on returning the ones stolen from Mrs. H.

Thank you for your time,

Rebekah Atkinson
Parole Officer
San Diego County Jail



I'm just very glad I have grandparents with a sense of humor... oh and grandparents that are half the country away....

they can't hit me from there.