Friday Letters

 

Dear Maryann (aka, self-proclaimed hair artist)

Thank you for having the grace not to say anything.
Recently, in an ill-considered moment I took the cuticle scissors to my hair. 

The result was better than hoped, prompting me to take a selfie.

Unfortunately, the next time I shampooed there was no disguising what I'd done.  It's probably best someone remove all the sharp objects from my bathroom.   

Dear Brittney (aka, Olive Garden server),

Thank you for making our lunch experience so enjoyable!

While trying to decide, I pulled out my phone and asked, "Can y'all do this?"

*from FB Keto group*
"Chicken scampi with broccoli instead of the pasta."

Delish!
The sauce was so yummy, I may have fantasized about ordering a cup-full.

A little later Tom, too, was waxing rhapsodic about his meal.
"Does Olive Garden sell their Alfredo sauce?"

No. ... Everything is made fresh each morning.

Me: "I'd love to watch!"

Maybe it stems from watching too much reality television, but I've an exaggerated interest in what goes on behind restaurant's kitchen doors.

Me:  "No offense to Olive Garden, but our favorite restaurant is Longhorn.  I'm always curious for instance how a party of 4 can order 4 separate entrees and everything arrives on time, perfectly prepared."

No offense!  My hubby works there in that kitchen.

Me:  "Please tell him 'thanks.'
And while you're at it, maybe Longhorn might begin offering kitchen tours during non-peak hours?"

Good idea, I'll tell him!

{I'm not holding my breath.  But would anyone else be interested in that sort of thing?}

Dear VW dealership,

I was surprised/disappointed last month when my practically new Taos suddenly lost all power while I was preparing to pull out into traffic.

Moreso, when you informed me the earliest you could check it was August 20.

We negotiated.  I brought it in on July 23 and drove home in a loaner.

Today's August 30, and despite having left repeated voice mail messages, I don't appreciate being ignored.

Funny, the following "e" message arrived this morning:
"Hi Myra. This is your Taos emailing you. It's my one-year birthday coming up ...." (ya-da-ya-dah)

So, I wasted no time responding to you (salesman), asking you share my sad story with your General Manager.

Supposedly, you're "on it, as we speak."

{Heck, I totally believe somedays you gotta pick your battles -- but I'm ready to lock-and-load.}

Dear Blog family,

Thank you for listening!

Hugs, Myra