To Whom it May Concern-letters I will not send

*Dear Kelly L.-

Thank you for coming to visit on Sunday. It was fun to have you drop by with some friends to see the puppies. I am sorry my house was such a mess. But hey, we're friends, you've seen it worse than it was on Sunday. I am sorry that the puppy you were holding pooped on you. You are the only one that has been pooped on. Wear that badge with pride. But mostly, I am sorry that my husband suggested you just use the master bath that was right there to wash your hand off. I was tempted to say "NO!! STOP!!" and shoo you to the main bathroom, but you were in there before I had a chance to scream. You moved so quickly, as though you had puppy poop dripping all over your hand. go figure. I am mortified that you went into my bathroom. It was so dirty. I blame the deadlines from the past two weeks for my not cleaning the bathroom for, um, probably that long. At least it was not just my dirty clothes on the floor in there, but Aaron's as well. Ha. The main bath was sparkly clean in anticipation of some out-of-town friends possibly stopping for a visit. I would have loved to have you use the main bathroom. I swear my bathroom is not usually that gross. I promise. Really.

But ironically, my husband would like to thank you profusely for stopping by and visiting when our room was in disarray and the bathroom was nasty. You see, the morning after you came, I feverishly scrubbed the bathroom from top to bottom. Then I even cleaned out the drawers. I even got rid of all those old eye shadows and nail polishes that have been jammed in the back of the drawer since who knows when. I filled the bathroom trash can twice when emptying out the drawers. Wow. And after that, I hit the bedroom. It is now much more presentable than when you were here. There is still an abundance of doggy things in there, but there will be until the pups are ready to go to their new homes. Which, by the way, if you are still thinking about one, we would be honored to send one of these little angels to live with you. And you can rest assured that even if the puppy has one of those days and tears your house apart, it will still be worlds better than how my bathroom looked on Sunday.

-Sincerely,

Still very embarrassed, but with a much cleaner bathroom

(oh, and just in case you all were wondering, my husband actually called Kelly and thanked him. Yep. He did. Kelly was kind enough to say that he didn't even notice that the bathroom was a mess. What a kind liar.)

*Dear Blonde Chick with lime green shorts, perfectly coifed hair pulled back just so with a matching headband wearing bubblegum pink lip gloss and sparkly dangly earrings,

Your name is too long. But I suppose that's ok because I'm pretty sure that's not your real name. If I knew your real name, I'd probably feel guilty for singling you out.

You see, I was standing in the bus just two feet from where you were sitting as we were bussed to the start line for the 5K last Saturday. Since I had been separated from my group I wasn't chatting with my friends and I ended up overhearing your conversation. I am glad it wasn't anything personal. For everyone's sake. Why do people have personal conversations in crowded places? Who knows.

Anyway, I listened to you talking about your pace and your time per mile. When I heard your time I thought, "good! I'm faster than that!" Sorry. That was kind of rude, but apparently I have fears that I will finish last. I don't know why I care. I guess I'm just selfish like that. Just add it to my list of personal issues.

So imagine my dismay when rounding out that final mile I saw you. And you were AHEAD of me. That was bad for me. I would like to thank you for that last burst of speed you inspired. But I would like to apologize for blowing past you like I was running from a rabid doberman. Actually, no, I'm not sorry I blew past you. It felt good. It was nice to sprint that last little bit. And to finish more than a full minute ahead of you. Who know I had that much speed left in me? It was a nice surprise. So thank you for being my end of race motivation. And congratulations, your pace is faster than you thought it was.

-Sincerely,

My petty self who won't be beaten by some cute petite little blonde thing. Especially if she's wearing make-up to a 7am race.

P.S. No one should look that cute before 7am and/or while running. You should be tired, puffy, make-up-less and stinky like the rest of us. If you'd like, I'll teach you how to break a sweat.