momHappy Mother’s Day, Y’all.  It’s that day where you all get together at your Gramma’s house.  Or your Sister’s or your Aunt’s.  Or Buddies.    And eat.  Everybody brings a dish!  I made a lemon bundt cake and three French Toast Casseroles!  I LOVE EATING FOODS!!!

Oh.  AND celebrate moms. Yes, yes.

My mom was great.  Everybody loved her.  Everybody misses her.  Everyone is going to say really nice things about her in the comments on this post.  And, that’s super nice.  It’s nice to hear nice things about my mom.

She was funny and pretty and driven.

There are a lot of things I learned from my mom.  But they aren’t the things you’d think.  She really taught me more in her dying than she did in her living.

My mom was 16 when she gave birth to me.  That’s young.  She wasn’t great at being a mom then, because how could you possibly?  She and I grew up together.  With my Gramma raising the both of us.

And, my mom made some really shitty decisions on my behalf when I was little.  Because, when you are learning how to do a thing, sometimes you screw it up a little before you get better at it.

And she got better at it.  She wasn’t perfect.  I was so ready to leave home when I graduated, like most kids.  But, man was I ready to GO home after college.

As I got older, she became my friend.

And, then cancer.

My mom was 50 when she died.   I think we had it pretty good with her dying.  She was up and talking until just about the end.  It was so hard to see her like that in that bed, but I’m so glad we were able to talk to her and laugh. You don’t appreciate that until it’s something that is happening to you.  And then you become keenly aware of what other people might miss or what other people got in a Dying.

As I’m sitting in my bed writing this, and crying, I remember why I don’t like to do this kind of thing.  allofthesadness.

I love this picture up top.  It is hilarious to me.  I have another really good picture of me and my mom, but we are being Sweet in it and we are Posing so it’s not as fun.  But this picture?  This picture is a hoot!  We are cracking up because of all the hilarity.

That night my mother was drinking EVERYBODY’s drink and was stealing all of the lighters and she thought she was incredibly funny.  So did I apparently!  I love this picture because we are just SO. Damn. Happy.

When she died, I took her Bible. It’s mine.  Everyday I see something she underlined.  Something she thought was important to remember.  Her loopy cursive is all over the place.  And I notice the passages that she was reading when she was sick.  The handwriting is a little scrawl-ey.  I love that Bible.  It’s a part of what she has taught me.

I learned from my mom to be a better mom.  To make time for life.  To commit.  To be strong.  Tolerant.  NICE.  To be faithful.

I carry her heart in my heart.



















Many of you reading yesterday were probably all like, Jen.  You have TWO kids.  I know.  You do not have to remind me.

There are 13.5 years between my firstborn and my lastborn.  I never thought I would have another kid.  Then, I met my husband and we just felt like we needed to really just never sleep again. So we had a baby.  Go us!

I really never wanted another child because, honestly, I didn’t think I had enough room in my heart to love another one.  I love my son so much – I was convinced that he filled that space.  Luckily, he was able to be gracious and make a little room for his sister.

This kid is exhausting though.  From get she has been trying to wear me down.  She nursed for five hours straight one day.  She’s trying to Alpha Female me.

She’s a story teller.  She likes to run my sister’s long driveway up to their house.  So, if it’s a nice day, I’ll let her run.  One day we got into the house and she immediately tells her aunt that I made her run and that I kicked her.  Preschool’s gonna be fun.

I have found that she is better behaved if she is wearing a dress.  She loves to play Princess, but hates when the crowns always get caught in her hair.  She loves to play Superhero and jump on the couch.

When she says “I love you” and then I say “I love you, too” She thinks I’m starting an argument and follows it up with “NO.  IIIII Love YOU.”  But not in that fun way.  She says it in that TERSE way.

She plays dead.  A lot.  I mean, laying on the floor, arms splayed, tongue out of her mouth: dead.  And then your job is to pump her chest and say “wake up Ness!!!”  And, she giggles because she is so hilariously not dead, after all.

Her favorite word is Dammit.  She uses it often, and correctly.

She has the most beautiful hair which turns into a constant battle of wills to brush.  She wins a lot of the time.  I’m old, guys.  I don’t have the energy to chase her.  Thank God messy buns are a thing.

She’s my snuggle bug.  My little artist.  My beautiful singer.  My crazy dancer.  My climber of everything.  My tickle monster.  She’s my best girl. She’s teaching me patience.  And perseverance.

I hope that as she grows we can become buddies.  I hope she confides in me and thinks I’m funny.  I hope she always wants to bake cookies with me.

I want to teach her to be strong and confident and loving and caring.  I want her to be faithful and joyous for all of her life.

But most of all?  I just want her to sit still so I can braid her hair straight.




me n hg

Mother’s Day is coming up.  It’s generally another one of those holidays that, to me, amounts to:  Eating.

And, I’ve been seeing a lot of posts recently about how heartbreaking Mother’s Day is for some of my friends who have become motherless.  And, that’s something I know a little about.  Being motherless sucks, and I miss my mom.  But, I don’t experience the hollow feeling so many others have.  I don’t feel like something is missing.  And, that really got me thinking about Why.

For me, it’s because I have kids.  So, whatever feeling I have in my cold and twisted heart, is completely usurped by the Big Feelings I have for my two kids.  One, who is my favorite, and one, who I’m sure will be my favorite in time, but she can’t even use the remote, or get her own pop tart right now.  So…

Mother’s Day is my day.  But really?  What is mine anymore?  Everything is Theirs.  That’s fine by me.

My son is the very breath I breathe. My right arm.  My Siamese twin.  People have told me that I treat him as if he is the most special snowflake in the world.  Duh.  He is.  Suck it.

We have a blessedly unique relationship which I am eternally grateful for.  He is my friend.  My buddy.  My favorite person to watch T.V. with (even though we terrify my husband with the inappropriate shows we watch…).

My son will be a Senior in High School next year.  Every year in the past when I’ve picked him up on the last day of school, I’ve said, “You are officially a (Insert next year’s grade)!!!”  I’ve been practicing saying, “You’re officially a SENIOR!!”  But, I can’t do it without getting a catch in my throat.  When I say it to him for real, I know I will start crying.  I’m tearing up right now.

I mean, he is going to KILL it as an adult.  He has his own personal code of ethics that even I don’t measure up to most of the time.  He is great at making good decisions.  He makes the best friends I could ever have imagined for him.  He has a goal.  Since he was in FIFTH GRADE.  And, I know he will attain it.  Or, maybe he will change his mind and attain a different goal. I can’t wait to watch him fly.  (also?  he has the voice of a thousand angels and if you don’t believe me, I will text you the video.)  Don’t get me wrong.  He can be a real dick sometimes (i.e. EVERY EFFING MORNING).  But for the most part, he’s pretty ok.

He is my greatest gift.  And, I’m thankful everyday God gave him to me.  He gives me purpose.  I look forward to the fabulous man he will become. My proudest moments are getting to be his mother.

Happy Mother’s Day to my own self!  I did, after all, make this kid.

I realize this is turning into a Cat Blog.  And, I should feel a twinge of guilt, but  I don’t.  I AM turning into The Cat Lady.  If you’ve been  to my house lately, the evidence would be undeniable.

Being in the committed, monogamous relationship that they are in, my cats consummated their marriage and the result is three preciously adorable white kittens with a smidge of their father just on the top of their foreheads.  All three of them, triplets, white, with a black ish paw print atop their precocious little beans.

And, being committed to Family the way that I am, I have no intention of splitting up this happy home.  So, yes.  I have five cats.  Don’t worry, Mr. has since been fixed, so there will be no more.

I named my kitten Hermes, and Holden, thinking I was going Greek named the others Hera and Apollo.  I was really going for Hermes like the designer, but what’s a ten-year old to understand fashion?  He wears plaid shorts with knee socks and deck shoes.

All this nicety goes without saying that Mr. is STILL a complete asshole.  No, no.  Not to me, per se.  Not on purpose, anyway.  Sometimes he may mistake my feet going down the stairs as playtoys, and attack my toes.  But, this is just a common misunderstanding between cats and feet.  It has nothing to do with the fact that my feet are connected to my person.  My person whom Mr. loves without hesitation.

He just really doesn’t like Others.  As I have mentioned.  Probably in at least nineteen other posts.  Because my effing cat is all I can seem to talk about.  Cripe.

He’s petrified of my grandfather.  Hides under the couch at the mere sound of his voice.  He hissed at my uncle today because Unc looked at Kitty.  Didn’t even reach out for a pet.  Just a look.  So I guess that IM not so much in an abusive relationship with Mr.  It’s just that I’m putting those I love in an inadvertant abusive relationship with him.

Kitty never particularly cared for Former Boyfriend, and while I took that as jealously, hindsight allows me to see it for what it really was:  Good Sense.

Holden has made a new friend this year.  A little Korean boy whose mother is here on a visiting scholar thing at our local university.  Tonite, Frederick is over for a sleepover, and Kitty has done nothing but stalk this kid, slinking in dark corners, apparently hoping to get a piece of him.  And, succeed in this task so Kitty did.  Bit poor Freddie on that skin between your thumb and forefinger?  Ouch.  We are making a terribly good impression on our visitors, aren’t we Cat?

I’m glad Holden’s little buddy is so good-natured, or we may have had a problem.  This was his first American sleepover and he was viciously attacked by an evil black cat.  With no tail to boot!

Yet, this is the same cat, who night after night, kneads the pillow beneath my head until he is perfectly sure that it is comfortable enough for him to lay down and simultaneously purr and headbutt me endlessly while I purr and pet him until we are both tired and full up with our love for each other that we fall asleep with his head buried in my hair and my arm wrapped tightly around him.  Thats love my friends.

…Jesus, Mary and Joseph.  I need a date.  preferably one without claws.

I know I’ve neglected this blog and it’s because I’ve been busy Getting a Divorce, a New Boyfriend, a New (old) House, and breaking up with said New Boyfriend.  More on said New House later.

When we moved home whenever it was that we moved home, my father got us a kitten.  His name is Gregory Allen.  He is a manx, so he has this little stub of a tail, and he is all jet black.  He is as slender as Kiera Knightley, and he hates everyone.  Except me.  He loves him some me.  And, I in turn love him just slightly shy of how much I love my son.  Some days I love the cat more.

We went to great pains naming this cat, yet we call him Kitty.  It’s not like he comes when we call him or anything.  We could’ve named him Booger.  Wouldn’t have mattered.  But we call him Kitty, nevertheless.

About a year after we moved to the basement Cottage of my family home, my dad picked up a rat of a kitten who looked like she needed to be loved.  And, like so many other Things My Dad Picks Up, the kitten was immediately neglected.  Well, okay, maybe not neglected, but definitely not loved the way a kitty is supposed to be loved.

~This is how you love a cat: When it purrrrs, you purrrr back.  When it wants to rub his face all over your person, you let it, because you want the cat to know you love it. 

~This is how you don’t love a cat:  When it wants to play, you lock it in the bathroom because its “buggin’ the shit outta” you.

So, when my dad bought a house Up North, we obviously couldn’t let him take the cat with him.  So we took her in like the little orphan we knew she’d end up being.

My dad named her Pepper.  Which is a stupid name for a cat.  I’m sorry if your cat’s name is Pepper, but I will not change my mind.  Holden and I immediately renamed her Talulah Milwaukee’s Best Buttercup Peapod.  We had every intention of calling her Lulah, but, you know….we call her Kitty.  Since sometimes calling two cats Kitty doesn’t really differentiate betwixt the two, we call them Mr. and Mrs. because, of course they are married, and not living in sin.

Mrs. is white as snow (thusly, Pepper…der!) and she’s not very bright at all, but don’t say that to Holden because it will make him cry that you called his cat mentally impaired.  Mrs. has a tail that goes for miles like a piece of white silk ribbon comin’ out of her butt.  She uses that tail to tell Mr. that she isn’t interested, thank you very much, and swat! in the face, Mr.

Mrs. loves everyone, and this is good for Holden.  Since she isn’t the brightest bulb on the string of Christmas lights, she lets him pick her up with her front hunched over the crook in his arm, and her backside just dangling in the wind as he bobs along doing whatever unnecessary thing he’s doing.  Mr. knows better.  He takes one look at that kid, and says, “O hell know, buddy.  You do not need me in your arm while you are looking for your tennis shoes.  You’ll do very well without me.”  And, scram! he’s gone inaflash to hide under the sofa.

But, not the closet.  No, he won’t be hiding in the closet anymore.  Not since I inadvertently locked him in there for Lord knows how long.  To make matters worse, I called and called him for Lord knows how long, not thinking anything of it, since he doesn’t come when he’s called in the first place!

People who don’t have cats just cannot understand this kind of love.  People often think of cats as snooty and self reliant on account of the fact that they disappear when you have company.  This is not the case, Cat-not-likers!  Our cats just don’t like you.  That’s why they go away when you are over.  They hate your stinkin’ guts, and cannot figure out for the life of them why we keep your company. 

Well, except for Mrs.  She loves you anyway.  But, then again?  She ain’t too bright…

Holden is doing very well.  He’s getting A’s in everything except science.  We had a rocky start and are playing catch-up.  But, who gives a frig, I’ll tell you.  He’s still taking piano lessons.  He’s joined 5th grade strings – violin.  He’s in the Drama Club.  He’s taking Saturday art classes at Michigan State University.  The kid’s a monster genius and no one is going to tell me any different.

My boss asked me what I was doing for Thanksgiving.  I said I was going to my Gramma’s.  “You know,” I said, “going upstairs.”

I like living here though.  I love my Cottage.  I painted a wall orange.  Like the perfume Happy – that box?  It’s that color.  And, it DOES make me happy.  Everytime I walk downstairs and walk into my Cottage, I smile!

We are Happy.

The other night I was reading Holden his little devotion that we do before bedtime.  It was about life’s ups and downs and how God is always there for you.  I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to talk about the divorce!  That if he had to say anything THIS would be the time.  At the end they ask is YOU are having any ups and downs in your life right now.  He says, “Yeah…” and shakes his little head forlornly like.  I said, “What, buddy?  You can tell me anything!”  He says, “My loose molar is really bringing me down right now.”

He was dead serious.

These are the issues that bring him down.  I will not lie to you: I immediately thought, We Are The BEST PARENTS EVER!

We are.

Holden and I saw New Moon with on Friday 11/20.  Holden was so geeked about seeing this film on its OPENING DAY that we could barely keep him in his seat.  We got there an hour before the show so that we could be the FIRST ones in line.  I was so pleased that I could give this kid a pleasure that was so simple.  He is such an easygoing dude.  He loved it, of course, and is half-way thru the book.  Again.

I had gone with my girlfriends to the midnight show.  I’d never done that before.  It was almost as exciting as seeing Justin Timberlake in concert.  I’m not even lying.  I was effing stoked.  And, it was what it was.  I didn’t have high expectations.  Twilight, really, wasn’t that good.  The books REALLY weren’t that great.  Yet I am in a total choke hold.  I am beholden to this fad.

The thing about this movie is this:  Jacob.

I was never on Team Jacob.  I am an Edward girl all the way.  I mean, really?  Vampires are Hot.

But when Edward takes his shirt off, though he sparkles in the sun, there just isn’t much there.  I mean he’s built an all.  But, he’s a skinny built guy.

Jacob?  Holy crap.  It was like porn for me.  The kid had his shirt off for almost the whole movie and was I ever grateful.

After the show, my girlfriend’s and I stood around (at 2:45 a.m.) and kibitzed about the movie.  They said how they were a little disappointed in the story line and the stuff they changed from the book…

I was like, “Storyline? Wha??  I quit thinking after that dude took his shirt off!”  Those abs changed the whole landscape of the movie for me.  It stopped being a love story and started being a lust story.  Mine.  And, you know?  Whatever, okay?  I know he’s like 16 or whatever.  Suck it.  God made him that way, and God let him be in that movie.  And, God let him take his shirt off.  And, God let me look.

On this Thanksgiving Day when we sit around the table and say the three things we are thankful for, I’m not going to be the least sorry when I say, “Wherewolf abs.”

Happy Thanksgiving, Friends!

(That title is for you, Missy Lou!!)

I like to eat.  I mean, I LERVE to eat.  Love it.  Its really my favorite thing to do.  On a rainy day?  Eat.  On a sunny day?  Eat.  Windy?  Food.  When I’m sad, I eat.  Also, when I’m happy.  

I also love to read cookbooks.  Right now I’m reading Orangette’s Book , and it really is mouthwateringly witty.  Fo Sho.    I can’t wait to have a proper kitchen again (someday…sigh…) so that I can prepare some food stuffs.  Specifically some Butternut Squash Soup.  It has pears in it.  I am happy just thinking about it. 

So, yeah, eating and being a general generic foodie is really my passion.  I’ve eaten lots of yummy things, and I thought that it would only be fair that I share the Yummy Things I’ve Eaten with you.

Bar None THE Yummiest of Things I’ve Eaten

Several years ago in Chicago, my sister in law, Vanessa, took us to brunch at a little place called The Bongo Room.  I had french toast.  I know:  woo hoo.  But this was no ordinary breakfast fare.  It was French TOAST!!!!!

It was thick french bread.  Baked to perfection.  With ripe bananas, crunchy pecans, light and fluffy toffee butter and rich, delicious maple syrup.  And, it was a healthy serving, too.  But, don’t worry, I finished it all.

The beautiful part of this meal was the toffee butter.  I don’t know how they did it.  It was, as I mentioned, light and fluffy.  Real butter.  With toffee in it.  Whoduthunk?

I have tried, for five years, to replicate this recipe.  I have come close, but not even touched upon this breakfast’s wonderment.  I can’t get the butter right.  Good Lord on Friday, that was good!  I can taste it right now.   Yummyumyummy.  Yum. 

The next time I visited Ness, I asked that we Brunch at Bongo.  We did.  My mouth was watering.  Literally.  Spittle was running down my chin.  We were seated.  We were menu’d.  Then, the saddest thing ever happened:  The dish was no longer on the menu.

I’m sure I had something good instead, but I’ll be damned if I remember what the hell it was…

The Second Yummiest Thing I Have Put into my Piehole

Again.  Chicago.  I think all of the Tasty Treats I’ve eaten come straight from the belly of ChiTown.  Also, again with the brunch, and again with the french toast.  The restaurant was Feast. 

These trendy restaurants are always my favorites.  Also, and diner with one name is going to be good.  Also, places that only seat about fourteen people, are the best.  I don’t know how we didn’t have to wait in line, but we got right in!  (And, also?  It seats more than fourteen people.  I was exaggerating.)

This one was made with challah.  It had some berry compote and cream running all over it.   It was so sweet.  And, also, creamy.  And perfect.  And tasty.  And delicious.  And yummy.  So so yummy.

There was no point in trying to recreate this delicacy.  I don’t even want to.  I couldn’t.  I don’t want to disappoint my own self, and undoubtedly, I would. 

I will just cherish it in my head.  Cuz, if I ever get to Feast again, it prolly won’t be on the menu.

And, Thirdly?  More of the Same

Chicago.  June, 2009.  The place: Meli’s Diner in Greektown.  Brunch.  This time, with no husband in tow, I was on a budget.  Typically, I wouldn’t go spending a trillion dollars on breakfast, what, with a H&M so very close, but it had to be done.  When I saw the item (first thing listed on menu) I knew we were meant to be together.  Even if for a short time.

This meal, like every other wonderful meal in Chicago I have eaten, was a chef’s special. 

It was an omelet.  So very fluffy-like.  It was filled with pancetta, goat cheese, and scallions.  The clincher, my friends was this ingredient:  Figs.  Fresh ones.

You may think it sounds like it wouldn’t go together…but whenever I took a bite with a fig in it, the little fig seeds exploded in my mouth with a burst of sweetness, mixed with the tangy flavor of the goat cheese, mixed with the gorgeousness of the pancetta, and the bitiness of the scallion, OH HOLY GRACIOUS!  SO GOODY GOOD!

Other Things That Rank Close

My friend Shawnie makes the most delicious guacamole.  She uses cream cheese, which makes it extra creamy.  If its not at her house when I am?  I take it as a personal affront.  Like she’s on purpose trying to hurt me in my feelings.

I went to Chicago a couple weeks ago and had hot dogs at some little hole in the wall place called Jean and Jude’s.  No sitting, and there are just the bare bones as far as toppings.  Mustard, ketchup, relish and peppers (I nixed the peppers.  Gross!)  The best part is that they top the dog off with fries.  I got a single and it was something like $2.50.  Cheap and delicious.  My fave!

My Gramma makes THE BEST lasagna I’ve ever had.  Cheese Ey.  So delish!  Its perfect.  I’m always for a cheesy dish.  I love  pasta, but could always do without all the meat.  Too many people focus on the ground burger or sausage or whatever other meat they put into the sauce, but I think in any pasta dish it’s the cheese that counts.  Lots of ricotta, mozarella, and cottage cheeses.   Its also one of those familial recipes that gets passed down, and I have yet to get it right.  My lasagna is good, but Gramma’s is divine!

Hungry yet?  I am!

My neice, Maya, comes in from the backyard yelling, “Holden said a naughty word!!”   I ask if it was “shit”.  She says “yes”.  Holden comes in trailing on her heels saying, “NO I DIDN’T SAY THAT!  I said the Eff Word!”

Well, oh.  Der.

Some kids were calling him names and quite honestly, the damn kids had it coming to him.  I kinda wish he’d have cocked his arm back and nailed the vile little creatures in the mouth!  Instead, he calls then Effing Idiots.

Which, okay…don’t say that, okay buddy?  Come get your mom, and I will inihilate them.  With my fury.  And, also, my fists!

Then the other day we were wrastlin’ around and I landed on him.  He grabs his leg, writhing in pain and says, “Holy Shit!”

I looked at him that way, and the writhing stopped immediately.  He knew what was coming.  I told him if he couldn’t control his potty mouth then I was gonna buy a bar of soap.  Cure this the old fashioned Christmas Story way.  That’d teach him.

But the thing is this: he told me.  He said it In Front Of Me.  To my face.  He’s not sneaking off and swearing at school.  He’s keepin’ it in the family.  So while I want this language to stop, and while I make a point of not swearing in front of him at all, I’m very happy that he’s honest and willing to bear the consequences from me because he knows that I lack any kind of punishment skills whatsoever I love him regardless.

This led to a deep discussion with Gabe (formerly Big Hands, currently Ex-Husband Who No Longer Deserves a Kitschy Nick Name) about our new roles as Parents Parenting a Child in Two Different Homes.

This is not gonna be easy.  We have different ways.  Ways that made sense when we were together, as we balanced each other, but now are things that just make you wonder if you are Doing It Right.

We are.  We will.  This will work because we will make it work.  Because it is different now, and because we will have to compensate for each other.  Even when we are only one phone call away.

Holden will swear.  He’ll probably rage sometimes, too.  But, really?  He’d probably do that if we all lived under the same roof.  It’s neither of our faults that he swore.  His potty mouth has little to do with how we are raising him.  I don’t know where it came from, but I doubt its because his parents are divorced and he has a black hole in his heart.

Who knows where these kids come up with stuff…

They have their own fucking little minds, and shit’s just gonna spout out of it some times, right?  Get off their asses!


I haven’t been able to keep the tears at bay in two days!  My sheer elation has opened the flood gates, of course, and so now I’m crying about everything…but this isn’t about me.

This is about US.

I am so proud to live in this country.  Tuesday night I was prouder than ever.  I really didn’t have any faith that this would REALLY happen.  I mean, I had an inkling, but I had no idea.

I can’t wait to see all the good things you are going to do for our nation.  I know you will.  Do good things, I mean.

I really believe you have our best interest at heart.

Keep on rockin’ in the Free World,


I voted this morning.

This is the first time I have ever voted where there were still “I voted” stickers left for me to take!  I think this is a Good Omen.  I’m going to my total BFF’s house tonite for an Election Party as her husband is out in the woods for the week.

That is another Good Thing about having been left by my husband; my total BFF is RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER now.  And, I love this.

My friend Lou sent me some flowers yesterday and the card read “Unbroken Spirits Rock!!!!!!”  Everyone passing my cube said, “Oh what lovely flowers!  Who’re they from?” and I’d say my friend Lou.  They’d ask, “Why?” and then I’d say with a completely straight face – Oh, because my husbands left me.

The look of shock and horror on their faces is worth it almost!  I like to shock and awe.

Move in day went very smoothly.  I’m all in and settled.  The accent walls in the kitchenette in my little “cottage” (which is what I’m making everyone refer to it as…) is Tiffany’s Box Blue and all the other walls in the cottage are a Crisp White.  I. Love. It.  Holden’s room is Navy Thunder Power Ranger Blue per his request.  He hasn’t seen it yet as he’s with his Daddy this week, but he says he’s very excited.

I am so blessed to have this kid who is so easy breezy.

This is not the situation I’d prefer to be in, but its the situation I’m in.  I’m making Lemonade, ladies.  And, my does it taste sweet.

Dear Candidate,

Well?  Tonites the Big Night!  Are you totally psyched?  I am!  My fingers and toes are crossed.  I’ll try to wait up till the very end!

Very Excitedly,