Plucky Letters to US soldiers in Iraq

April 17, 2003


Dear Rob,

I realize the fighting has diminished and you have won the war. But don’t let your guard down. There are still dangerous creepy Saddam loyalists lurking in the shadows. Keep ever in mind that they have nothing to lose and you have everything to lose. They have no future, whereas your future is stretching out before you like a red carpet of opportunity. These desperate soulless characters will not hesitate to die killing you, because their lives are over anyway, and they know it. Your life is an unwritten book; you must protect those clean, white, unturned pages. My future grandchildren are counting on you to be safe so that they, too, will have an opportunity to see the sunshine.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, we are preparing for you to come home.

A carpenter named Josh came over to look at our basement to assess the remodeling tonight. Rudy is still laughing his ass off because I made such a fool of myself. (I am grateful he is laughing and not yelling.) I am no longer allowed to participate in discussions of remodeling when professionals are present. Seems I have "diarrhea of the mouth" and blab on and on about things I know nothing about.

I can't even deny it.

I don't know why, but I find myself "cheerleading" whatever the guy is talking about, even though I obviously don't have a clue what any of it means. I do this at car dealerships, too. If the salesman says the car has a multi-powered 350 flux capacitor, I'll say something like, "Oh, wow, those are the BEST, and worth every penny!" I'm like some sort of salesman's dream/consumer verbal prostitute.

I also feel compelled to pretend I'm "hip" to whatever technical jargon is "going down." At one point we were talking about crown molding. Josh said something like, "Yep, with this stuff, you cut backwards and upside down." I said, "Absolutely right! That's the only way!" Then I blurt out, "What do you mean, backwards and upside down?" I sounded like a retard with a split personality.

Rudy claims I said "Oh, yeah, that's great!" about 14 times while Josh was here. I have absolutely no idea what was so great about any of it, but that didn't matter. Josh could have said "This will take 37 years, cost you $12 billion dollars, and I'll do the whole thing with Tinker Toys." I would have jumped up and down cheering, "Wow! Tinker Toys are the BEST!"

I also make things up on the spot. We were talking about the staircase and Josh said it would probably be more than $500 for the materials. I open up my mouth and out comes, "Actually, I think we figured it would be around $700." Rudy looked at me like:
A) I just made that up, which I did (I don't know why), and
B) Like he wants to kill me for somehow giving away classified information, which I did not. (see A)

I am somehow driven to want to make the guy feel not only like an expert, but like I think he's got the best prices in town, and I'm more than willing to pay whatever it costs just because he and I are both so gosh darn smart.

This is nothing new. When buying the cursed Achieva, I was all ready to sign the papers, when it suddenly dawned on me to ask "What color is it?" As you recall, I bought the car and had to replace the engine 6 months later. (Well, it was December, my bookstore was in Decatur, my old car was shot to hell, and I felt I needed to get a damned car and get on in to work that day!)

I wonder if this disorder of mine is rooted in some childhood trauma or other. Maybe it all goes back to the time my dad made me lie about my age to get a cheaper ticket into Six Flags??

Whatever, I am banned from further basement interviews.

Stay safe, hurry up and WRITE BACK, and for goodness sake, take a shower! You probably stink to high Heaven.

Much Love,
--Mom

PS: What DOES "cut backwards and upside down" mean? Is that like "measure twice, cut once"?