Dear Monsanto,

Thanks for screwing up grain farming for all of eternity.  Also, thanks for putting growth hormones into stuff and fighting to not have the products labelled, in case we got scared to try them.  ~Whew~ sure makes me happy and all feeling safe and stuff.

Dear Empress,

I respect the fact that you are entitled to your opinion. You seem to not respect that fact I, too, am entitled to one. You feel that by badgering, guilting, belittling, drawing negative attention to, and publicly shaming your peers you are somehow making the world a better place. You don't bother to own your feelings, and believe that your circumstances ought to translate automatically into everyone feeling as if they're on the cusp of an epiphany if only you would guide us. I hate Brussels sprouts, but I don't stop anyone else from eating them if that's what suits their fancy. You too hate Brussels sprouts, but in your opinion, this should be enough to abolish them from the planet. Really? You're THAT right?

Humans are not so frail, though. While you would have us believe that your way is the right way, even if it is the best way it isn't the ONLY way. You are so quick to judge, to speak your mind, to condescend with no respect for those around you. You flinch when someone bites back, unable to defend yourself because your argument is one-sided, arrogant, and intolerant. You intimidate people not because you are worthy of awe and respect, not because you are a revolutionary or even a deviant, but because you are a tyrant. You mistake people agreeing with you for people just not wanting to listen to you go on any longer.

There has always been a fine line between activist and terrorist. If you continue to refuse that there is another side (sometimes many) to every argument, you do not enlist or endear support for your cause. Rather, you make people feel invalidated. You repel people, instilling in them the desire to revolt, to hold an uprising, to set fire to your flag because YOUR way is not the ONLY way. Rather than accepting that the pendulum can swing happily somewhere near the middle, you create drama, turbulence, hatred, and unrest instead of persuading us to draw our own conclusions based on a balanced presentation of the facts.

You attempt to brainwash instead of educate, plucking only the slivers that support your agenda from the forest, and offering your truth as the only truth. It is like this with religion, politics, circumcision, breastfeeding, and more, and I'm here to speak the truth: Some people raised as Christians grow up to be Buddhists, some people who grew up in homes that voted liberal will vote conservative the first chance they get, and uncircumcised breastfed babies have allergies and grow up to need therapy, too.

I remember learning about a soap ad in college marketing. Research was conducted and it was discovered that more people bought Dove than any other soap. This formed part of their advertising campaign for years. Now, on one hand, this is true - I believe it was something like 2% of the population bought Dove, while less than 2% bought any other one kind. However, 98% of the population used anything BUT Dove. Remember that I already know how this works the next time you start interpreting statistical evidence and throwing it in my face like law.

We're all going to make the best choices we can with the resources we have available to raise our babies as best as we can. We're all going to get some parts right, some parts wrong, and fumble our way through the rest. And our babies will all grow up to have opinions of their own, which aren't always going to be consistent with what we raised them to believe.

Someone who passionately educates is an advocate. Someone who openly refutes those who don't buy into their dogma is just an asshole. And Dear Empress, I assure you that right now your asshole is definitely showing.

Regards,

Hope

Dear Daddy,

You know, it's been a few years since you died now. It should be easier, and in some ways it is, but then I imagine you standing there on my doorstep on Christmas morning, smiling, with parcels, and snow on your sensible Grampa boots. You would stomp your feet to get the snow off and give me hug before even bothering to take off your cold parka. Your face would be smooth and you would smell like aftershave, the same aftershave I haven't had the heart to throw out and is still sitting in a box next to the Christmas decorations - a box of things like your airplane templates and little rubber wheels, Xacto knives, and geometry sets. The kids would run up to see you, full of hugs and curiosity. Maybe you'd let one of them pull your finger. And I'd roll my eyes.

You would have turned 68 this year, on December 8th. Wil turned 15 on December 3rd, and has taken up the guitar. Must be a Saggitarian creativity thing. You would be so proud of him. And Kaelan had his first dance with a girl today, and is learning how to put contact lenses in. And I know you would have been there to watch Mads singing in her choir today, too, and would have been bursting with pride for our little hamtart. These things would have been important to you, because Grampas care about things like that. And Serejane - she wore her pyjamas to school today and made teh bestest garland tree ever. I think I'm more sad she will have no memory of you than I am for anything else. She would have loved you so much. You would have loved her so much.

Howard would have been 56 yesterday. His boys are adults now - it's only a matter of time before I feel like I want to seek them out and set the record straight. We've found them both on Facebook and just don't know how to go about making things right. So many holes in our family, so needlessly. Like when the men die, the women just fall apart and cease to function like normal human beings. I'm so grateful for Bill.

I love what I do, Daddy. You would be proud of me, too. I wish I had a recording of you to share with everyone, singing Daddy of Three, or On the Wings of a Dove. I was proud of you, too. I miss you. Merry Christmas.

Dear Insurance Company,

I realize that you have to spend a tonne of time dodging clients with excuses for why you can't proceed with their claim, however, I do think that 6 months has been more than ample time for you to move on getting the siding on our garage replaced. I'm not sure whose butt my nose should be up, who I ought to scream at, or who wants me to buy them a hooker, but whatever it takes, now is the time, as I foresee a similar fate with the status of our wrecked car, and don't think either you or I wish to pay for a rental for the next 6 months. Seriously - send me your hotel room # and I'll ship over your ho, a bouquet complimenting you on your inadequacies, and a box of chocolates that you can stuff between your cheeks and pretend is my little brown nose.

Sincerely,

Hope

Dear Sinuses,

I know I have been very unkind. Since we brought the dog home, between the antihistamines, the nasal spray, and the incessant blowing I believe I kind of painted you into a corner with the nasal drip thing. I am OK with that, really, I really am - it's almost deserved since the best cure would, in fact, be to find a new home for the dog. Which you know I can't do. So the nasal drip I was willing to let you have.

But this recent sneezing thing? It's WAY overboard. Completely obnoxious and really, a little on the ignorant side even. I don't like walking through the house convulsing and running into walls without being able to catch my breath, it's dangerous when you bring on the fits while I am driving, and for gosh sakes - my sister knows I don't have a tub to read in... she's going to KNOW it isn't an accidental water spot making the puckers on that page of the book she loaned me...

Can we call a truce? I promise - PROMISE - to remember the antihistamines regularly and will dust more often, if you can meet me halfway and knock it off with the 2-hour sneezing fits. MMMK?

~Hope

Dear Bill,

Some people might say that you aren't the brightest star in the sky. I disagree. You did, after all, marry me.

Love and hugs from inside the bright and beautiful universe that is ours to enjoy.

yer wife

Dear the Onion,

Thank you for my laugh of the day.