Sense of joy fills the air, And I daydream and I stare, Up at the tree and I see... Your star up there. And this is how I see you, In the snow on Christmas morning, Love and happiness surround you...
As you throw your arms up to the sky. I keep this moment...by and by.

- "Wintersong", Sarah McLachlan

I've been caught up in myself lately. I mean, in terms of Bear. He's an only child, and a homeschool kid at that. So if I'm not giving him my attention, well, then it's just him and the dog. And while she's cute - she's not much of a conversationalist.

Between Edward Scissorhands-ing my blog, finding a whole slew of CD's relatives on Facebook (hello, Iceland!), being all courageous with the bills, planning and executing a food budget that means everything is being made from scratch, writing/addressing Christmas cards, making lists - checking them twice, and generally tripping over the Christmas boxes to get anywhere... well, I'm sucking big eggs as a mom.

This morning, Bear crawled into bed with me (as you will) to catch some early(ish) morning one-on-one time. But one look at my expression and he had to ask me what's going on.

"The governor was arrested," I broke the news to my politico pre-teen.

"The bribing thing?" he asked, sounding disappointed but not surprised.

I nodded.

"Oh," he sighed, shaking his head. "That's not cool. It's Christmas. Who's going to sign the things he's supposed to sign so everything works all right? Is there a Vice Governor, I think?"

I nodded. "Lt. Governor Pat Quinn," I confirmed.

"So, that's good. But I guess it's not a good Christmas so far," he mused.

"For the governor, you mean? Or Illinois in general?"

"For the whole... everyone. Hardly anybody has their lights up. We don't even have a tree yet. It's like people are sad."

"Are you sad?" I asked.

"I guess," he sighed, reaching for my hand.

"But you were happy before. When Daddy got the new job, and I got better, and the new president was elected."

Bear gave me a long look and slowly nodded. "Mommy? Is bad mood contagious?"

"I think it is," I agreed.

"Is good mood contagious?"

"What do you think?"

"I think it is," he decided. "So maybe we could start it."

"How?"

"Put up some lights, maybe? And send cards to people. I don't know."

"All right," I agreed, feeling a little sparked by his enthusiasm. "Of course, we still have to start your new vocabulary list, and drop off the dry cleaning, and..."

"Hush," Bear laughed, finding the remote control. "How about you do some things, and I watch a cartoon, and then we do some good mood stuff?"

"I can get behind that," I agreed, slipping out of bed to make myself some coffee.

"Hey, Mommy?" he called, just as I was walking away.

"Yeah, hun?"

"Everything's gonna be all right, right?"

I thought a minute. Years slipping before my eyes. His faith in my answer weighing the words. "Yes, it is," I vowed. "It's going to be all right, soon enough."

"OK," he smiled.

And for a moment, we believed.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:22 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 537 words, total size 3 kb.

If you hadn't noticed, I'm STILL re-coding the site.

First of all, it needed an overhaul. The CSS was so full of abandoned style choices that every time I tried to update something, I would trip over it all and it would become a mess. Just total freaking chaos.

Second of all, it needed to be organized. My archives are a mess. My categories less than helpful. And nothing was easy to navigate.

Third of all, I want rounded corners. I can't explain it, I just do. And that has meant figuring out CSS and Movable Type once and for all. Which? Ain't easy. Especially for a woman who sometimes wears her bras inside out.

And finally?

Well, we're getting to that.

Just, please, I beg you. Don't give up on me yet.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 03:28 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I'm not whining.

Just reeling.

The fallout from last summer continues to pile up.

While everyone (mostly) was supportive of me while I was "out of it", I continue to burn in real time from the after-effects.

From renegotiating debts (because I don't have the freelance money anymore) to making amends to people who feel betrayed that I missed out on some months of their lives.

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to make it better. Some days I wake up and it's like reporting to an ongoing siege - looking at bills that got ignored and are now rimmed in red; leaving messages for people who don't call back; trying not to hyperventilate about making the COBRA payment (almost $1500/month).

If anyone has any advice, I'm listening. Because there is a part of me that is growing bitter and I hate it. I hate that there's snow on the ground and holiday cards to address and all I feel like doing is throwing my head back and screaming.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:30 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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This is a test post for the new layout

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:28 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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From the Associate Press, my favorite line of the morning:

"What an inspiration. He is the first truly global U.S. president the world has ever had," said Pracha Kanjananont, a 29-year-old Thai sitting at a Starbuck's in Bangkok. "He had an Asian childhood, African parentage and has a Middle Eastern name. He is a truly global president."

Posted by: Elizabeth at 02:47 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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President-Elect Barack Obama.

*whew*

Just wanted to see what that looked like.

To be in this city, in this moment, sitting next to my son...is a blessing beyond words.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:18 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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2.5 years ago, I got lost coming home from the bank.

The bank? It's less than a mile from my house. The experience? Scared the shit out of me.

Headaches that had been a growing annoyance became coupled with a sort of sensory fuzziness. It's hard to explain. But getting lost that day forced me to realize that something was really happening to me. I presented myself to the doctors, with the firm instruction that they fix me.

After several false starts at a diagnosis, I was tested from my eyeballs to my kidneys. Test after test gave me reasons to twirl around shouting "EEK!" - but nothing that ever explained the symptoms.

I began to wonder. If the doctors can find nothing, then maybe it was all (Ha Ha) in my head? No, dammit. Something was wrong, but at the same time I told myself that I should hold tight to my place on the wheel. Not lose the present worrying. Embrace the autumn, as the leaves began to turn.

Even though it's been a challenge to slip away from my own words, my own memories, and the people I care about - you'd be amazed how easy it's also been. We humans are magical creatures. We can make anything normal. We are infinitely adaptable - especially to things that happen to us slowly.

This summer, an infection in the base of my skull gave me and my doctors a reason to take a fresh look at what's been happening.

Suddenly, a new pair of eyes told my primary doctor and I what we already suspected. With that came a moment of Grace, when I was offered a way to halt this slide my life has been on.

It's not an easy option. It's a bold, proactive thing. It would demand that I run to the cliff - and jump.

You know, I went to Greece some years ago. A little island no one's ever heard of. Anyway, I was riding my little moped and there was the little cliff and I was feeling bold.

So I went ahead and stripped off my clothes... and jumped.

It was like I was leaping right into my fear. I don't like heights, I've never been thrilled with my naked body, and even worse - as I fell, it occurred to me that I didn't have a plan for getting back UP.

I flew, though. And it was a hell of a thing. A hell of a thing.

But as I waited for that cruise ship to sail by so I could start climbing out of that deep blue sea - I knew, KNEW, I never wanted to do it again.

Ah. Well.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 09:24 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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I've lived everywhere BUT BOSTON for the last 2/3rds of my life, but....

YIKES!!!

Posted by: Elizabeth at 03:58 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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The neighbors are having a new garage built, which means they need to get their cars out of their driveway before all the big rigs arrive in the morning.

Driveways are a premium around here - of the 20 houses on our block, maybe 5 have one. And if you don't have one, you can't get one - so they actually add around 3 grand or more to the worth of your home.

We? Have a driveway. It's beat up and has weeds growing in it, but it's all ours and we love that stretch of asphalt.

The neighbors came by and asked if their son could park their extra car in our driveway for the duration. Our driveway is not quite wide enough for two, but long enough for five. Of course! Says us. Just put it at the top of the drive whenever.

Well, God unleashed a fury on us this evening. A storm, for you lay-folk. It didn't abate until about 1AM, and I was still up writing when I saw the lights crawl past my window and park NEXT TO CD's Passat.

I pulled on pants and ran outside. Waved my arms, my bra-free bosoms bouncing in the night air. "Kid! KID!" I shouted. "Pull all the way up!"

"What?" He demanded, utterly freaked out at my appearance at whatever time in the middle of the night and peering at me disbelievingly.

I crossed my arms and stopped bouncing. "Kid, you gotta pull up! You've blocked me, here!" I tried to be all subtle in pointing out that my van would now need a ramp, Evil Kneivel (or Wile E. Coyote) and 16 ounces of government grade explosives to escape the driveway.

So he pulled the car up. Next to my van. Practically had to crawl out the window to escape his car.

"Kid!" I shouted as he landed with a grunt in the bayberry bush. "Not there, Kid! Up! UP!"

He held up a hand, and dove back through the window back into his car. Pulled it up so it was now halfway past my van.

"KID!" I shouted as he attempted a hurried escape over the fence. "Not THERE, KID! I'll hit you!"

"You'll WHAT?!" He squealed, peering at me from the property line.

"I'LL HIT YOU!!" I waved my arms around, gesturing at the cars. My bosoms once again doing the Macarena. "No DEPTH perception," I explained at a half-boom. "Crash!"

"Uh," he shook his head. "I'm afraid to run over your bush there."

The one you landed in and flattened, not 5 seconds ago? I wondered. "No WORRIES!" I explained. "Just MOVE IT on UP!"

It began to rain again, and he scampered back to the car and started it up. Pulled forward another 5 feet, just clearing the bumper of my van. "Is this OK?" he asked, jogging away again. "Please?!"

"FINE!" I shouted, ducking back onto the front steps. "GOOD NIGHT!!"

"Whatever," he shrugged, disappearing back into his house and turning off the lights before I've even got my front door open.

Clearly? I'm THAT woman in the neighborhood.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 07:36 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 535 words, total size 3 kb.

So I am going through my archives, cleaning up the category settings and making backups, etc. etc.

When I was leaving my job, I carefully went and hid any post that had anything to do with my job. Now I am un-hiding those, little by little.

Some of them are so, so sad and angry. But others? Just crack me the hell up. (How pompous does THAT sound? Ew.)

How do you know how to deal with this? She asked me.

I could have said; it's standard Project Manager process. Which it is, but of course I didn't learn it that way.

I learned because I once took a flamethrower to a vendor over a 50 million dollar contract. And once I had pretty much burned down the house, the yard, the block, the car, the vendor, and oh - myself.... along came a guy, probably dressed in black.

He leaned over my steaming self and said, calmly; You know Maverick, we got lawyers for this.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 01:36 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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When you're making 6 figures, you got options. You can live in the city, near the city, or in some palace left of nowhere, just down the lane a mile or two.

But when you're contemplating something a lot less finer for a lot less coinage, then it's time to draw a line down a piece of paper and really weigh what you get for what you give on the geological side of things.

This is not a post about real estate.

Several years ago, CD and I decided to reevaluate how and where we were living. We knew if we were going to cut back to his salary, that it would be smart to move somewhere more rural. And, hey, our dream is a log cabin on a lake somewhere so it wasn't like we were twisting our own arms.

I had a lot of fun, we did really, researching and traveling to different places and getting the flavor of them. All of us enjoyed comparing the realities to the ideas we'd get in our heads, the discoveries, the sort of Hemingway-esque romance of it all.

Last summer, we got the house ready to show and put up on one of those 'sell it yourself' sites. The world hadn't crashed yet, but you could smell it in the air like rain. So even though there was a list of things still to be done - we were willing to lose some of that sweat equity to get it sold.

And then? We didn't sell it. And then? We didn't go anywhere.

So every once in a while, I get these emails; "Hey - you talked about moving for, like, eons. What's up with you still being where you is?"

Instead of continuing to point lovely people at the archives, which don't actually explain why we didn't move, I thought I would actually explain why we didn't move.

Ready? more...

Posted by: Elizabeth at 03:56 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 916 words, total size 5 kb.

1 That's the thing about having a partner who's really a partner. You can trust the judgement of that person. I agree with CD. Sometimes the important things to do are the ones that make other people think you're crazy. I have a frig magnet that says "Ever notice how 'what the hell!' is always the right decision?" I get a lot of comfort from that little magnet.

Posted by: paige at July 21, 2008 02:04 AM (2r16q)

2 Now I'm getting a lot of comfort from your magnet

Posted by: Elizabeth at July 21, 2008 03:20 AM (DyeGv)

3 My mom always says that any problem you can solve with money isn't really a problem. Sounds like CD feels the same way.

Posted by: Beth at July 22, 2008 07:12 AM (bxn17)

4 货架、 货架

Posted by: Steel pallet" rel="nofollow">钢托盘 at March 07, 2009 02:19 AM (xEqmt)

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5) Over 3,000 people look at my first page. Only 700 turn it to see what happens next. Clearly? I SUCK.

4) I don't write in complete sentences. No. Really.

3) My dog has a bright blue wet splot of paint on her butt. My child has informed me that he's taken up 'Bratology'. And my partner just whispered in my ear that he's only got about 30 minutes left in him, so if I want sex it's all on me.

2) My esteemed and learned editor, employer, and Yoda of Words says that I need to start using plots, 'cuz they're important.

1) I dangle my modifiers. I hang my participles. My female characters hate me. My male characters swagger a lot. The pets in my stories NEVER have freshly painted bottoms. In other words, see #5: I SUCK.

(Off to drink his orange-infused vodka and see if nail polish remover works on dog fur.)

Posted by: Elizabeth at 01:54 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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I am trying to finish editing 2 articles that were due yesterday. I THOUGHT they were due today, because I can't count to 7. Clearly, I have lost my mind. Funnily, I don't miss it.

Randomness:

1) I hated the finale of Doctor Who, Season/Series 4. Partner loved it, but I thought that RTD took too many easy outs as a writer and I'm so disappointed that it's been 4 days since we curled up to watch it Saturday night with all our excitement on and... it's still making me wince.

2) One of my additions for the Chicago Mom's Blog got picked up into syndication at several newspapers, including the Miami Herald and Sacramento Bee. That? Feels better than chocolate.

3) Two friends are going through divorce, a cusp of troubles so many are having. Bad times seem to begat sad times and I'm getting a LOT of hits on my 2004-2005 archives to when CD and I were watching our own marriage just fall apart. It makes me wonder if I should dredge that up and write about from the perspective I have now - or if anyone cares to hear that sometimes, it does get better. Not very salacious, though.

4) This Todd Bentley/Lakeland Revival thing is making me go 'hmmmm'.

5) NEVER would I EVER have thought I would be a homeschooling mom that makes her own laundry detergent. ME?! Who had a standing drink order at the American Airlines Ambassador's club? I'm going to get a t-shirt made - "Not the woman you think I am, won't vote my demographics. Try again." (Although, I have to admit to loving the whole clothesline thing.)

Updated Flickr, because I am SOOOOOOOOOOO frustrated with this assignment and needed one more thing to distract me???? Even a screencap of my newly organized Mac desktop!

Posted by: Elizabeth at 11:31 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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John Steinbeck once wrote "So in our pride we ordered for breakfast an omelet, toast and coffee and what has just arrived is a tomato salad with onions, a dish of pickles, a big slice of watermelon and two bottles of cream soda."

Ever had that happen to you?

I woke up this morning, determined to be pleased with the world. I gave it all the benefits of my doubts, made a keen breakfast for the men, and rolled up my sleeves at the computer to tackle a good days' work.

And what I got? Was a plate of pickles and a cream soda.

Look, I know life doesn't owe me anything. Not a positive bank account, not a steak dinner and a margarita, not a healthy dog with a fresh stick. But when you factor in how hard and fast I run in the wheel on a daily basis, all I'm saying here is that eventually it just ain't outta line for me to expect to be somewhere when I get off at the end of the day.

And to still be there in the morning, when I get back on.

No, I'm not high. I'm not altered, undone, ill, or even recently ravished. Well, depending on your definition of recently - but mine's "in the past 5 minutes" and I'm standing pat there.

I'm just a stay at home freelance writing homeschooling tomato-growing dinner-making God-loving semi-socialist pink-haired womanly woman who's getting over writer's block and just, wouldn't it be nice, if LIFE WOULD SHUT UP AND LET ME GET ON WITH IT????

I'm gonna go do something insane, tackle some billables with a greased-up mitt and a steely eye, and let the committee of sleep whack the rest into line.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 12:27 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 312 words, total size 2 kb.

John Steinbeck once wrote "So in our pride we ordered for breakfast an omelet, toast and coffee and what has just arrived is a tomato salad with onions, a dish of pickles, a big slice of watermelon and two bottles of cream soda."

Ever had that happen to you?

I woke up this morning, determined to be pleased with the world. I gave it all the benefits of my doubts, made a keen breakfast for the men, and rolled up my sleeves at the computer to tackle a good days' work.

And what I got? Was a plate of pickles and a cream soda.

Look, I know life doesn't owe me nothing. Not a positive bank account, not a steak dinner and a margarita, not a healthy dog with a fresh stick. But when you factor in how hard and fast I run in the wheel on a daily basis, all I'm saying here is that eventually it just ain't outta line for me to expect to be somewhere when I get off at the end of the day.

And to still be there in the morning, when I get back on.

No, I'm not high. I'm not altered, undone, ill, or even recently ravished. Well, depending on your definition of recently - but mine's "in the past 5 minutes" and I'm standing pat there.

I'm just a stay at home freelance writing homeschooling tomato-growing dinner-making God-loving semi-socialist pink-haired womanly woman who's getting over writer's block and just, wouldn't it be nice, if LIFE WOULD SHUT UP AND LET ME GET ON WITH IT????

I'm gonna go do something insane, tackle some billables with a greased-up mitt and a steely eye, and let the committee of sleep whack the rest into line.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 12:26 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 310 words, total size 2 kb.

John Steinbeck once wrote "So in our pride we ordered for breakfast an omelet, toast and coffee and what has just arrived is a tomato salad with onions, a dish of pickles, a big slice of watermelon and two bottles of cream soda."

Ever had that happen to you?

I woke up this morning, determined to be pleased with the world. I gave it all the benefits of my doubts, made a keen breakfast for the men, and rolled up my sleeves at the computer to tackle a good days' work.

And what I got? Was a plate of pickles and a cream soda.

Look, I know life doesn't owe me nothing. Not a positive bank account, not a steak dinner and a margarita, not a healthy dog with a fresh stick. But when you factor in how hard and fast I run in the wheel on a daily basis, all I'm saying here is that eventually it just ain't outta line for me to expect to be somewhere when I get off at the end of the day.

And to still be there in the morning, when I get back on.

No, I'm not high. I'm not altered, undone, ill, or even recently ravished. Well, depending on your definition of recently - but mine's "in the past 5 minutes" and I'm standing pat there.

I'm just a stay at home freelance writing homeschooling tomato-growing dinner-making God-loving semi-socialist pink-haired womanly woman who's getting over writer's block and just, wouldn't it be nice, if LIFE WOULD SHUT UP AND LET ME GET ON WITH IT????

I'm gonna go do something insane, tackle some billables with a greased-up mitt and a steely eye, and let the committee of sleep whack the rest into line.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 12:26 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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They would sit around the table, in tan pants and button-downs. And they would tell me about the plan. And argue about the plan. And I would sit, serenely. Listening. Bending, when need be. And ultimately, nodding. Saying "Yes, this is what we will do. It will be done. You will do your part." And they would, ultimately, nod and say "Yes. Despite all my arguments, despite my enthusiasm one way or another, I agree."

Then we would shuffle in a bundle out the door. Chit chat and empty coffee cups. Maybe head on down to the bar for a drink or over to that Chinese place. I would tug my Citibank card from my wallet, the one with no limit, to pay.

Or sometimes a vendor would, waggling his fingers at me to say he had the tab. No worries.

At the front door, home, I would kick off my heels. One, then the other. Never pantyhose or nylons. I would drop my laptop bag with a soft thud. Scoop my hair up into a scrunchie.

By the time I hit my office, she'd be fading. The senior staffer with the flashing eyes and serious agenda.

And I wouldn't miss her.

I'd be glad to be back in the light-filled enclave, with cables and phones. Able to get actual work done, away from the cubicle canyons with people popping up their heads over the half-height foam core walls. Like Meercats and Prairie Dogs- "Just one sec, Elizabeth?" they'd call.

Those seconds would snowball into hours. Every. Time.

I'd see an unfamiliar me in their eyes. A decision maker. Curved and female and maybe a little wise, but never soft. And taller, in those black pumps.

I wouldn't miss her the next day, when I'd be back in yoga pants and a ponytail.

I'd obsess on what my son had been doing while I was away. On what tragedies were smashing and crashing at home. On the little details I could never quite push out of my mind about the real estate taxes and cupcakes for the party.

One day, you know, I just quit. Like a Merry-Go-Round ride, I held on to the pole and pushed out my leg off the base. Finding just the right moment to leap. Springing into the air as the carousel spins away from under me. Landing a little wobbly on solid ground.

Still spinning a little.

And then finding my way.

The seasons have come and gone since I leaped. And now I am back there, in a tiny way. Interviewing a senior staffer for an article.

"Oh," he chuckles as we traced our lineages to find some history in common. A telecom we both worked at, long long ago. "Oh, I bet you don't miss that!"

I laugh.

And never tell him that I do. Sometimes with a yearning that makes me wobble on steady ground.

There are no perfect paths, just roads taken. And sometimes I miss the me that walked the other one. I miss her curled hair and lipsticked lips. I miss the way people stopped to talk. I miss the way she sat, actively listening. Deciding things that stay decided.

I never missed her then. But now, sometimes, I do.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 02:23 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 546 words, total size 3 kb.

Am I happy? I ask him.

You tell me, he shrugs. Big eyes bright as he falls back into quiet.

Are WE really happy? I push.

If we agree we are, then who's to argue, he responds.

But we fell apart. And once broken, the fairy tale ends. We fell apart, and there is still so much scarred and not-quite about us. I think we're lying to ourselves. I think its all wishful thinking.

He looks at me, thoughtfully. He looks and doesn't say anything.

I lie to myself a lot. I tell myself I'm skinny

You're not, he makes half a smile. But you're beautiful.

Don't say things like that. Just tell me true things. Tell me about how we fell in love, and had a baby, and then the dark and now we'll never have that trust again. I rub my face. Sometimes I don't know what to think. I get scared that we didn't really heal. That we just stopped hurting. And it's not the same. And this love is just....

What? He asks, waiting.

The moment ticks on. I don't know, I admit. Love?

Yeah, said gently. It always was.

Spring is giving way to summer. The ped-bridge in Riverside, Bear and his friends scampering across.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 12:30 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Thank you so much for the comments and emails about this strange "debt".

I called Loyola, AGAIN, and got a live body who seemed very confused by the 'situation'. They're gonna call me back, they say....

I know that the letter I wrote was not the 'proper' response, and I did add the necessary FDCPA language to the letter, which someone asked about. Here it is, in case:

To put it bluntly: I dispute the above-referenced debt. Please verify this debt as required by the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act.

While this debt is being disputed, you cannot report this debt to the credit reporting agencies. If you have already reported it the credit reporting agencies, please contact the credit reporting agencies, inform them that the debt is disputed, and ask them to delete it from my credit report. Reporting information that you know to be inaccurate, or failing to report information correctly, is a violation of the Fair Credit Reporting Act and other applicable laws.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:27 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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We opened our mail today to see an invoice stamped 'Second Notice' and informing me that 'by my lack of response' I had affirmed that a debt to my alma mater, Loyola, is legitimate. The company, "William and Fudge" (really?), wants me to 'remit $150 immediately' - to THEM, not Loyola.

Gah?

I can say with 100% certainty that I owe Loyola nothing. Almost a decade ago, I actually went to the campus and paid off the last remaining balance I had with them in person, on a loan they'd extended me during my senior year. That loan had been a bane over my head and on my credit rating and after they printed me out a clean accounting, I skipped all the back to my car. And there's been no new activity since.

Trust me. Loyola knows where I live. They would like me to die and leave everything to their new library. They would like me to be $1000/head tickets to their alumni dinner.

I hate scam artists like Fudge & Williams. They are a bane on society. I mean, bottom feeders at least have a purpose. These people? Just cruise old rolls and try to scare money out of people. And you gotta know that some people fall for it.

If I believed in assault weapons? I would advocate using these people for target practice.

Instead I wrote them a nice letter.

Damn lying liars.
_____________________________________________________________
May 28, 2008
To: Williams & Fudge, Inc.
300 Chatham Ave., P.O. Box 11590
Rock Hill, SC 29731
Acct.: blah

To Whom It May Concern,

I received a letter from you today dated May 23, 2008. It stated that you were “assuming a debt to be valid” because of some kind of lack of response from me. This was utter nonsense as this was the FIRST correspondence I have ever received from you and, I hope, the LAST.

I DO NOT owe so much as a penny to Loyola University of Chicago in any way, form, or fashion and I especially do not owe YOU. I have, in fact, confirmed this with the school itself. I have been square with that organization for a very long time, especially considering I finished in 1993.

If you continue your blatantly ridiculous efforts to extort money from me, or in any way do ANYTHING derogatory to my credit, I promise you that I will unleash an onslaught on you and your employees in the form of my lawyers that will make hiding in the bowels of hell seem like welcome sanctuary.

You will cease and you will desist immediately.

Quite sincerely,
me

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:52 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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