dear giant wooden spoon

Dear Giant Wooden Spoon,
This letter is long overdue. I have some serious questions for you and feel that after more than 30 years, you owe me some answers. For starters, how many of you are there??!! It seems to me that every grandparent in the continental United States has some incarnation of you hanging on their wall. What amazing power do you and your kind hold that makes everyone of 'the greatest generation' pull out hammer and nail to mount you in a place of prominence in houses around the country? I swear, I think you were in their house before I was!
Why is it that more often than not, your eternal partner, the Giant Wooden Fork, is mounted not too far away, yet is typically slightly lower on the wall than you? Is this to display your dominance? Is this some sick wooden power play to show the world that the spoon rules over the fork? I for one would think that with its ability to stab things, the fork would reign as king. Yet somehow you and your oblong brethren have pulled off the ultimate coup. Well done.
Lastly, and this is the real heart of the matter, did you derive some sort of sick pleasure from 'tanning my backside' all those years? Yes, I know I shouldn't have set fire to my hot wheels. I know I shouldn't have snuck into the fridge and drank grandpas beer. And I know I shouldn't have shot the neighbors cat with the BB gun (though that cat had it coming). But really, did you have to be so hard on my rear? Couldn't you have maybe flexed a little while granddad was swinging for the fences on my tender little butt? I was only a little lad with a rear no bigger than a volleyball!! Yet you stayed solid, and dished out the punishment as you deemed fit. Then, after all was said and done, you hung there on the wall with your round face looking to the world as though you were smiling about what had just happened. Oh how I despised you.
So, Giant Wooden Spoon, let this letter serve as notice. Unless I wake up one day to find myself suddenly a giant craving a huge bowl of cereal, you and your kind will NEVER be welcome in my house. I may allow Fork to visit though, just to rub it in your stupid round face.

Still feeling the sting,
Jason

dear hubcap [part 2]

Dear Hubcap,

I know that we've had our ups and downs over the years and

I admit I haven’t always been sensitive to your needs. All I am

asking for is one more chance. When I woke-up this morning and

saw that you were gone, my heart broke into a thousand pieces. I

instantly got in the car and began retracing the routes I had taken

yesterday. I've looked EVERYWHERE; the bank, the parking lot at

work, the gas station, the ditch and under every guardrail along the

way… nothing. I have no option but to think that you don’t want to

be found.

I suppose I should've seen this coming; all of the signs were

there but I ignored them. I will assume that the "final straw" was

last Monday when we had that flat tire. After it was fixed and bolted

back onto the car, I remember having some trouble getting you

back into place. I couldn’t figure-out why you were acting so difficult

and resistant. For the first time in our relationship I had to us a

rubber mallet to get you to cooperate. I'm such a fool… It probably

wasn’t even your fault; it was probably that rusty tire rim.

Please forgive me and come back home. The car just doesn’t

look the same without you. I know I can speak for the other three

hubcaps when I say; "you complete us".

Missing you badly,

Nate

dear red tweezers

dear red tweezers,

i just want to thank you for your years of superior service. every since you randomly came into my life via a christmas stocking present from my mother-in-law my life has been changed. i am constantly in awe of you. you are the real deal! you pluck so precisely, so perfectly. you are confident in your ability, it makes your job so easy. i don't even know who made you which heightens your value to me because i don't know what i'd do if i ever lost you.... well ok we do know what i'd do, because i did lose you. i'm so sorry. i'm so sorry the sink stopper thing was out, and i am SO, SO sorry i dropped you down the drain. i had to confess to my husband that you were gone and we both mourned your loss in a serious way. i went to target three different times trying to find a replacement for you. who knew there were so many tweezers out there? $2 tweezers and $200 tweezers. what's a girl to do? how much did you cost red tweezers? because i think you are priceless. we busted out other closeted pairs we had, i bought two or three new tweezers, but nothing sufficed. we didn't realize how good we had it until you were gone. our brows looked sad for months. but then one beautiful day we cleaned out our drain as it kept clogging [probably because of you and a couple toothpaste caps] and lo and behold you reappeared. i'll never forget it. you were kinda gross but i cleaned you off and hugged you. i hope you forgive me and i hope you are happy to be working for us again. i swear i'll never drop you down the drain again so help me god.

pretty brows again,

michelle

dear sand wedge

Dear Sand Wedge,

I started having feelings for you once I realized how much I needed you. I just wanted to write you and tell you that I still care. I love the way your shaft gleams in the sunlight. The way your face shines when I address my ball. The way your grip fits so perfectly in my hands. It feels so right when I swing you. I guess what I want to know is.... WHY??? Why do you hate me so much? I mean, after all I have done for you. For starters, if not for me, you'd still be a nameless face in a big barrel of clubs getting prostituted around the region in that seedy "golf expo". I didn't have to buy you. I didn't have to give you a second chance. I'll be honest; I'm starting to form opinions as to WHY you were in a big barrel way in the back of that expo. Listen "Sandy", you know how they say "first impressions" are everything? I think we're still recovering from that. Let me jog your memory…

I believe it was a bright sunny Sunday afternoon; our first time out that year. You were excited too, the way you kept bouncing off the face of my putter the whole way to the course; it was almost as if you were as nervous as I was. Through the duration of that round -as to be expected- my game fell apart. I think we ended-up shooting a 97 or something like that. Where were you? Just like the rest of my clubs, you never showed up. I was so disappointed. I really expected more out of you.

Sandy, I didn't want it to come to this, but if you don’t start cooperating, you're going to end-up in the shed with my 65 degree. Hear me out; I still care for you, I need you, I want us to get along more than anything. We've got a big match coming-up next week against Gary (from work) and you have to straighten-up. If you do not, I'll have no choice but to let you go (probably into the nearest water hazard). I still have faith that you are the one for me. Together we can get my golf game back on course.

I'll see ya the next time I'm about 35 yards out,

Aaron

dear hubcap [part 1]

Dear Hubcap,

We've known each other for a while now, thanks to our

mutual friend, the '89 Dodge. We don't interact very much, but that

doesn’t mean your efforts go unnoticed. I want you to realize that

you are a significant member of our transportation team.

I'm writing because I'm sure by now you have noticed my

wife's new truck. In my defense, we got a great deal on that Ford

and the 20 inch rims and low-profile tires came with it. I did not set-

out to find something "hip" or "trendy", I'm really not into that kind of

stuff, it was just too good of a deal to pass up. Please don’t get

jealous when you see me driving it, you have no reason to feel

threatened at all. I may be showing my age here, but I still like you.

I think the way that you (and your three teammates) stylishly cover

my rims and lug nuts is quite sufficient. I have no desire to

exchange you for the latest fad. You guys can rest easy knowing

that as long as this old Dodge is in my possession, you'll stay right

where you're at.

Also, I owe you an apology for pulling-in too close to the curb

the other night and giving you that unsightly scratch, I need to pay

more attention. I know it sucks being parked on the street and

you'd rather be in the driveway, but that old car has an oil leak. I

tell you what… this weekend I'll break out the Armor All and give

you guys (and the tires) a good shine.

Keep up the good work,

Nate

dear stop sign

Dear Stop Sign,

I’ll be moving away in a few days and I’m writing to say

farewell. I want you to know that in the five years that you and I

have cohabitated this small piece of property on the corner, you

haven’t gone unnoticed. For instance, I’ve noticed that you – just

like me – enjoy a good thunderstorm. I like to sit comfortably in

the garage with a cup of coffee and marvel as Mother Nature puts

on an amazing light show accompanied by strong winds,

directional rain, and powerful claps of thunder. You on the other

hand react very differently. The way you move back and forth with

the wind… you seem to be jamming out there like you’re at a rock

concert. If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re trying to get a

mosh-pit started in the side yard. I think that’s cool.

I also owe you an apology for the dents I’ve made in your

face. I suppose you can only mow over so many walnuts before

you get frustrated and start throwing them at whatever will loudly

punctuate your anger. You do have to admit that the one in the

center of your “O” was a pretty good shot from thirty yards back.

Lastly, I really want to thank you for all you do to keep our

neighborhood safe. I really hate to see those teenagers ignore you

the way they do. To them you’re merely a suggestion. They don’t

understand the things you have to go through to represent the law.

Perhaps if they had to stand out there in the weather, take walnuts

to the face, get wizzed-on by dogs, nicked by the weed-eater, and

ignored, they may too come to respect you the way I have.

I guess this is goodbye for now… I will try to come through

this way from time to time just to see how you’re holding up (plus

I have to go through here to visit my brother).

Keep on jammin,

Nate

dear booger

Dear Booger,

I can't see you, but I know you're in there. I can't hear you,

but your presence is very obvious. I know exactly where you are,

but my tools -thus far- are useless against you. I want you to hear

me, and hear me good; GET OUT OF MY LIFE! Do you think I

won't eventually get to you? Do you really believe that you are

invincible? Well here's some news for you, I've dealt with your

kind before. I know your game because I've played it many times,

and guess what, I've never lost. You WILL be caught, you WILL

be extracted, and you WILL be discarded just like every annoying

jerk that's come before you.

What is up with you anyway? What makes you act the way

you do? I'm not threatened by you. You're just an instigator; an

unloved antagonist who's probably up there laughing at me like

Woody Wood Pecker. Guess what, you're not as menacing as you

think. In fact, I'd rather be dealing with you right now as opposed

to doing business with one of your relatives (pimple & splinter); at

least they can cause infection. To me you're nothing more than an

insignificant wad of uselessness. That’s right, you're only a minor

set-back; a shameful embarrassment to your kind.

Listen to me; we both know how this is going to end. I don't

even care if you continue this feudal engagement. With every

failed attempt to apprehend you, my will to succeed only grows

stronger. I'm not going to rest until you are out of my life forever.

You're reign of silent turbulence is nearly at an end. Trust me, it

doesn’t matter how stubborn you are, I've got nothing but time and

tissues on my side.

Game on,

Nate