Dear Jack White, you're irritating.
Written by Uncle George: May 9th, 1907
Rose before 5:35 am. Bath. Breakfast. Twenty-one meals for $3 and it was good food. Out about five miles east of Kansas City and made a view of the Big Blue. Very muddy and sluggish.
Val: May 9th, 2013
Accidentally ruined The Boy's Boy Scout shirt. Ate some chocolate fiber. Listened to Adam Levine. Felt sorry for the folks in North Dakota.
The day started out pretty annoying. Seth was about two minutes from finally finishing that blasted Eagle Scout Boy Scout program. So it made sense (not) that I should ruin his very expensive uniform and every single patch on it in the wash. Nice.
It didn't have this much bling, but when you have to buy news patches and sew each patch on by hand AND the patches are about as thick as the walls of ancient Troy, you feel irritated. And when you pull back your hands from your work, your fingers worn to the nub from shoving the needle into those patches, you feel irritated about that, too.
Plus, I had to go to the city. I am not going to lie. Nobody in KC knows where "Kaw Township" (name circa 1830). It took about 984 years to track down. Irritating.
In case you are curious, The Big Blue River is in the northeast corner of Kansas City. North of Independence Avenue, which if you live in the city, you know what I am saying. It isn't your Big Blue River, Uncle George.
And it is certainly not the best part of town for a missionary to be running around in. Especially a woman. Alone. That isn't some--"rich girls use to describe almost everything that's not clad with lily polos and pearls"--statement. It's just a fact. By the way, this statement was made by someone who was upset about being judged based on where they reside and how they live. See the logic? Everyone knows that one mean judgement deserves another.
The real truth I've never said out loud is that "all fat, white middle-aged Midwestern housewives" lives are full of lily polos and pearls. That, and apparently we think about Jack White. A lot.
According to Jack White.
Jack White, the musician, a few years ago said that very thing. He said that we fatties sit around gossiping about his love life.
Drats. Our secret is out.
Jack, you are spot on. Not only do we spend all our days gossiping about you, but twisting our perfectly manicured fingernails around all those pearls we wear.
"Kaw Township" is quite a place. I saw a drug deal go down in a pavilion. There was trash everywhere. I found a 1970's stereo speaker with a smashed desk. There was a piece of house siding laying on the ground. There were blue tarps covering a lot of the roofs.
Actually, I like blue tarps. I grew up with them all over Alaska. They are basically the Duct tape of the housing world. They feel familiar. And who doesn't like Royal Blue...which actually makes sense in KC.
I didn't dare leave sight of the Mini. For it's sake, not mine. There was no fishing for fun, either. And I saw some fresh graves. For real.
I am not sure why I felt sorry for the folks of North Dakota May 9th, 2013. I am a humanitarian, and much like the Indian widows, I guess I feel sorry for Dakotans on a regular basis. Actually, it is one of two states I have not visited. I can only guess that they aren't clad with lily polos or pearls and that is why I can't be bothered.
But I bet they have blue tarps. And no concern for Jack White's love life.
One more thing. When I heard that Jack said about what Midwestern women, I wrote him a letter. You know I did.
It went something like this:
Dear Jack White,
You don't need to worry. Speaking for all fat, middle-aged housewives in the Midwest, we don't sit around talking about your love life. Because we don't even know who you are. Or anything about you. Except that you are irritating.
Bye Felicia,
Valerie
Well, me and my nubby fingers got to go. I have 1,000's of calories to consume (man, I hope I don't drop any food on my lily polo). And Jack White to mock. Now that I know who he is.
Love,
Muffy
Rose before 5:35 am. Bath. Breakfast. Twenty-one meals for $3 and it was good food. Out about five miles east of Kansas City and made a view of the Big Blue. Very muddy and sluggish.
Val: May 9th, 2013
Accidentally ruined The Boy's Boy Scout shirt. Ate some chocolate fiber. Listened to Adam Levine. Felt sorry for the folks in North Dakota.
The day started out pretty annoying. Seth was about two minutes from finally finishing that blasted Eagle Scout Boy Scout program. So it made sense (not) that I should ruin his very expensive uniform and every single patch on it in the wash. Nice.
It didn't have this much bling, but when you have to buy news patches and sew each patch on by hand AND the patches are about as thick as the walls of ancient Troy, you feel irritated. And when you pull back your hands from your work, your fingers worn to the nub from shoving the needle into those patches, you feel irritated about that, too.
Plus, I had to go to the city. I am not going to lie. Nobody in KC knows where "Kaw Township" (name circa 1830). It took about 984 years to track down. Irritating.
In case you are curious, The Big Blue River is in the northeast corner of Kansas City. North of Independence Avenue, which if you live in the city, you know what I am saying. It isn't your Big Blue River, Uncle George.
And it is certainly not the best part of town for a missionary to be running around in. Especially a woman. Alone. That isn't some--"rich girls use to describe almost everything that's not clad with lily polos and pearls"--statement. It's just a fact. By the way, this statement was made by someone who was upset about being judged based on where they reside and how they live. See the logic? Everyone knows that one mean judgement deserves another.
The real truth I've never said out loud is that "all fat, white middle-aged Midwestern housewives" lives are full of lily polos and pearls. That, and apparently we think about Jack White. A lot.
According to Jack White.
Drats. Our secret is out.
Jack, you are spot on. Not only do we spend all our days gossiping about you, but twisting our perfectly manicured fingernails around all those pearls we wear.
"Kaw Township" is quite a place. I saw a drug deal go down in a pavilion. There was trash everywhere. I found a 1970's stereo speaker with a smashed desk. There was a piece of house siding laying on the ground. There were blue tarps covering a lot of the roofs.
Actually, I like blue tarps. I grew up with them all over Alaska. They are basically the Duct tape of the housing world. They feel familiar. And who doesn't like Royal Blue...which actually makes sense in KC.
Royal Blue and The Fat Lady, representing the rest of us.
I didn't dare leave sight of the Mini. For it's sake, not mine. There was no fishing for fun, either. And I saw some fresh graves. For real.
I am not sure why I felt sorry for the folks of North Dakota May 9th, 2013. I am a humanitarian, and much like the Indian widows, I guess I feel sorry for Dakotans on a regular basis. Actually, it is one of two states I have not visited. I can only guess that they aren't clad with lily polos or pearls and that is why I can't be bothered.
But I bet they have blue tarps. And no concern for Jack White's love life.
One more thing. When I heard that Jack said about what Midwestern women, I wrote him a letter. You know I did.
It went something like this:
Dear Jack White,
You don't need to worry. Speaking for all fat, middle-aged housewives in the Midwest, we don't sit around talking about your love life. Because we don't even know who you are. Or anything about you. Except that you are irritating.
Bye Felicia,
Valerie
Well, me and my nubby fingers got to go. I have 1,000's of calories to consume (man, I hope I don't drop any food on my lily polo). And Jack White to mock. Now that I know who he is.
Love,
Muffy
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