Thursday, July 30, 2009

On The Range

I am feeling quite sorry for myself, and I thought you all might want to join me in feeling sorry for myself, too.

Mr. Vesuvius is traveling to Chicago for a few days. At an undisclosed point in time. He is traveling WITHOUT ME. Let me repeat: Mr. Vesuvius intends to abscond with himself, secreted away in the warm confines of a chase, borne across plain and field of corn, SANS HIS COMELY AND MAGNANIMOUS WIFE, to the vast sweeps of the metropolis Chicago.

Wife will remain at home to tend the children and feed the Indians. And you never know what a young wife might do, left alone in the wilderness with but the company of herself, her babes--still in small clothes--and the unsettling yet alluring presence of the savage braves.

Most likely she will live at McDonalds and the giant breakfast food at cherry creek mall.

Feel free to send pity offerings--coffee beans, espresso drinks, books, soft t-shirts, magazines, red wine, dark chocolate, etc--to young wife at her home address. Don't hesitate, my dears. We all know you are charitable indeed. But most humble about it, at that.


  1. LEMME BABY SIT! Lemme come hang out! Come on, I'll even shower and bring wine and we'll watch a sappy movie. We can watch anything you want. I'll even go buy us both books at the $2 store and we can read and drink and sigh that being a woman is the greatest gift anyone could ever give us. You know my number. I'll see you tomorrow night.

  2. I'm very sad as well. I spoke to my mother and asked excitedly, "Britta coming?" then there was just silence... I think you would very much enjoy yourself here, except maybe sleeping on the ground with half the family.

    You will be missed.

  3. Oh my we must get together I can't have you being alone. When do you need me?

  4. I need you. . . always? We could always have a D-B-L three way. . .


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