I know what you're thinking. Missy is becoming a pen-pal? Missy???? The one who never mails anything??? I feel sorry for whoever is on the other end of this deal.

Normally, that thought process would be correct, but this time, I've got a twist up my sleeve. (Did I just mix a couple metaphors?) I can't quite picture a twist in my sleeve. I pictured a slice of lemon or lime maybe. Then I pictured a corkscrew in my sleeve. Now, my sleeve is all tangled, and none of those convey the element of surprise and glee that I was hoping for. Although a slice of lime sliding down my arm would be a surprise and possibly gleeful depending on how hungry I was at the time.

Anyway.

On my hall in my apartment building, there are four apartments, one is ours, one is vacant (ooh, that word sends shivers) one belongs to Mandy and one belongs to Gary and Lisa (who my brain constantly tries to rename Larry and Nancy, figure that one out - cuz I sure can't! It's frustrating, is what it is. I always have to pause for an internal correction before I say hi.)

Mandy and Lisa both stay home all day like I do. Mandy just had back surgery and cannot leave her apartment much anymore, and Lisa has something wrong with her leg. She, too, rarely leaves her apartment. I visit Mandy on occasion, but her apartment is crowded with valuable glass objects and two small dogs that don't mix well with my toddlers. Lisa told me a while ago that she would love to have visitors, but she has a psychotic dog that forbids it.

So here we live, three women who would enjoy each other's company if it were possible. And I got a "bee-dea" as Liberty says. That's big and idea mixed together. WE CAN BE PEN-PALS!

I lay in wait for Larry as he passed my apartment door at lunchtime. Correction: Gary. See? I didn't type Larry on purpose. He just looks like a Larry. Strongly.

Pause. "Gary!" I called out, two smiling girls peered from between my legs, and L- Gary grinned at them. His one gold tooth reminded me of the fake policeman at the beginning of Home Alone. "Do you think Lisa would like a pen-pal?" I inquired eagerly.

Perhaps too eagerly. He looked suspicious. "What do you have up your sleeve, now, little girl?" he questioned me with a twinkle in his eye. (Gary's the one who I abruptly announced our cheese mishap to several months ago. Oh, maybe I never told that story on this blog. I'll have to remember to spin that tale for you another time.)

(And by the way, what is it with my sleeves today? They must look freshly stocked or something.)

I explained my bee-dea of taping notes to each other's front doors every day, and he laughed.

I do need to inform you that it gets tiring having one's ideas laughed at on a regular basis. I understand that some of the ideas that strike me are not done regularly by most people. I understand that the kinks of those ideas have been worked out in my brain before I present the finished product to others, and that they may not realize the kinks are solve-able. I understand that I've had a lot longer to dwell on the practicality of said ideas. But it sure would be nice to have someone enthusiastically shout, "YES! GREAT IDEA!" and then sit down to figure out how it could be most practically carried out, instead of laughing at me, and leaving me to sound slightly rushed and earnestly defensive when I explain why it really could work.

So.

Gary then suggested that we email each other instead of writing and taping written notes. He struck disappointment into my soul with such a cold suggestion. I should have just gone with Plan A which was to introduce my bee-dea to Lisa by leaving a taped note to her front door. Unfortunately, my enthusiasm got the best of me again, and I couldn't hold the idea in long enough to carry out that plan. I just had to share it with Gary since I saw him walking into the building.

I protested, albeit very minimally because I realized he was actually taking my suggestion fairly seriously, and I liked the idea that he was contributing, too. Also, I couldn't figure out how to explain to him how cold his idea sounded to me without looking very silly. Finally, I said, "Well, talk to Lisa, and see what she thinks about it all," hoping that her imagination, too, would be caught by the fun side of taping written notes. He agreed, and continued on his way home for his lunch.

About ten minutes later, Gary knocked on my door holding a sheet of notebook paper. My heart skipped a beat! My first note from my new pen-pal!

Gary teased Mercy a little bit to see her smile before he said to me, "Lisa wrote down her email address for you."

Sigh.

The bittersweet feeling of a messed-with bee-dea come to fruition in all it's cold, corporate spontaneity.

I sent off my first email a few minutes ago!
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2 Responses
  1. Debbie F. Says:

    I have an evil idea.

    Why don't you use Liberty and Mercy to "accidentally" change her mind?

    Your two little angels can't send an email...but they CAN color and draw. Tell her they wanted to get in on the pen pal action and tape a drawing her door.

    And hey...even if she still just emails you, it's still a note of encouragment!


  2. Que Says:

    Sorry this took me so long to respond but I thought that was a GREAT idea! No one does that anymore. I work in a library and my job is to make sure we stay with the times from a technology standpoint. But at the end of the day, no matter what we do, there is nothing like and old school book. Getting actual mail is a lot more exciting that getting email. Unless, of course, it's junk mail. Then it's a toss up as to which is more annoying... junk mail or SPAM.


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