Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Dear Kate,

I got a flu shot today.  My whole arm is achy now.  

I feel like I'm not allowed to say that as a medical professional.  I feel like that might discourage someone from getting a flu shot and that would be bad.

But is lying about how it doesn't hurt right now really any better?

Love,
Your childhood-ruining (and very pro-vaccination) little sister,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

I feel like I need to ensure that our readers do not get a one-sided view of our childhood relationship. Here are a few of the things I blame you for:
  • that time when I was 14 and you told Ben A. that I had a crush on him. It was all the more embarrassing because it was true.
  • my low intellectual self-esteem. You always one-uped me academically (can we say "full scholarship" twice?)
  • the constant feeling I have that someone is watching me- because you usually were.
  • and also for that time you told Mom I lost my tooth even though you knew I was going to keep it a secret so that I could finally know the truth about the Tooth Fairy. Now I'll never know...

Love (in spite of it all),

Kate

Monday, November 29, 2010

Dear Kate,

Oh, don't let yourself off so easily - I blame you for that too. I would have won, you know.  I was going to be fantastic on the uneven bars.  Sure, I'd never even seen a set of uneven bars, but Dad's pull-up bar in the door frame of our bedroom was practice enough.  I think you were just jealous that I took your lame black BALLET leotard and made it awesome.

And in case you were wondering, I also blame you for: 
  • not teaching me how to put on make-up
  • crushing my dreams of building a robot entirely out of empty soup cans and an old answering machine
  • and not letting me go to prom my freshman year with the prom king
A little bitter,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

I will gladly take the blame! As a libarian, I love it when people love the books I love. And honestly, there are so many worse things you could blame me for. Like crushing your 1992 Summer Olympic dreams, for example. In my defense, I was only being logical. You were not even 6 years old and the Olympics was set to start about 3 weeks after you announced your intentions to compete. I've always worried I somehow robbed you of a future gold metal... Oh well. Certianly the company of a good book makes up for it.

Love,
Kate

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Dear Kate,

I'm working on my Master's research paper and project.  It's about Alzheimer's Disease.  I'm distracted, though, by an audio book that I started on the drive out to Mom and Dad's house.  Since "The Hunger Games" is a book you once recommended, I am blaming my lack of concentration wholly on you.

You should really be ashamed of yourself.

Love,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

Sorry I've been a little MIA on the blog (no internet at the cabin), but my guess is that somewhere a librarian has been MIA in someone's research process. I know that Wikipedia has been working to become more accurate, (references listed at the bottom of articles, etc) but it's still Wikipedia for goodness sake! Here I've been telling my 5th graders not to use it for their Presidents Projects, and someone in academia is using it. Crazy. Next thing you know, you'll find a paper that sites "Google." I can't seem to get it through the kids' heads that Google is a search engine not an acceptable reference website. Clearly somewhere a librarian has failed to adequately teach research skills and everywhere there will be gnashing of teeth and weeping onto date due cards.

Love,
Kate

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Dear Kate,

When did Wikipedia become a valid source of accurate information, Mrs. Librarian?  Something must have changed since I've been in PA School with my head stuck in a book because I just found a "scholarly" article in a PEER-REVIEWED journal that sited Wikipedia. Seriously?!

I thought Wikipedia was for winning bets with friends about who invented the escalator and stuff like that, not for valid background information about Alzheimer's for your research paper...


Your librarian expertise would be appreciated,
Bora.

Friday, November 26, 2010

Dear Kate, 

On my last day at work before Thanksgiving I got to do my very first internal medicine procedure - removing a PEG tube.  Basically, this involves yanking as hard as you can on a stretchy tube that has been inserted into the stomach from outside the abdomen.  Let's just say everything did NOT go as planned and that gastric juice went flying - into my face.

Thanksgiving thoughts?  I'm thankful for soap and hand sanitzer.

Love,
Bora.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Dear Kate,

In light of the Thanksgiving Holiday, I would like to post about the many ways that I am thankful for you.

I am thankful for:
  • The notes you wrote to me during my 8th and 9th grade years so I could tell that girl who picked on me in chorus that they were notes from my criminal sister who was on the run from the feds.
  • The title of "Princess Laura" that you bestowed upon me so that I could pretend to be in your group of high school friends.
  • The fact that you begged me to apply to LaGrange even though I thought it was actually called "LaGrange College: Kate's Dumb School"
  • And your willingness to start this blog so that the world can see my comic genius. 

I am thankful to have you as my sister.

Thanks for being you,
Bora.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Dear Kate,

I am jealous of your homeownership-ness again today.  The reason?  You don't have creepy, weird, or difficult neighbors living in the same house as you.  I do.  They just use another door.  Duplexes suck.  We got a notice today that our water is about to be shut off.  Except it was a notice meant for our neighbors.  (I am way too anal-retentive to let a bill go unpaid).  Talk about an awkward notice to have to re-deliver.  I mean, what do you say, "This was on our door, but it must be yours because we pay our bills"?

I do hope my neighbors are able to pay their water bill but if not, let's hope that this time they get the right side of the house.


Love, 
Bora.
Dear Bimbo- I mean Bora,

I know all about "compliments." NA often makes such comments about dinner. Things like, "This is way better than what you cooked last night." And, "This tastes ok, but I don't like the way it feels in my mouth." Or even, "I like it except for all the vegetables." I'm sure to a 12 year old boy, these are culinary compliments but they make me want to scream. Add to it that he asks me what's for dinner about 5 times a day and then crinkles up his nose when I tell him and that while I'm cooking he says things like, "What's that smell?" and it has become a new rule in our house that we do not discuss dinner. At all. Period. I have a feeling you will not be able to enact a similar rule with Dr. Meany-head, though if you try, I'd love to hear how that works out for you.

Love,
Kate

Monday, November 22, 2010

Dear Kate,

Today I was paid the kindest compliment by one of the doctors.  He said, "She's not one of those bimbos who could be on one of those reality TV shows."

Wow, "not a bimbo."

Shucks, Dr. Meany-Head.  You sure do know how to compliment a lady. 

Love,
Bora.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Dear Kate,

I ate tomato soup for dinner tonight, followed by an ice cream bar.  The mixture of hot and cold in my belly reminded me of a time at Grandma's house when we ate soup.  She offered us "paddle pops" as usual after supper and I remember you warning me as I went to take a bite that the mixture of hot and cold is what caused storms - hurricanes and tornadoes.  I'm pretty sure that was the slowest I have ever eaten ice cream.

Love,
Bora.

P.S.  I think someone will definitely buy your house and turn it into a museum.  Or at least a fun house with crazy mirrors - plus, in that case, you wouldn't have to paint after all.
Dear Bora,

I like being a home owner- most of the time. After living in college dorms for the first 2 years of marriage, it was really important to us that we didn't share walls, a floor, a ceiling, or a hallway with anyone else (especially anyone drunk, naked, or locked out of their room). The only time I don't really like about being a home owner is when I think about moving. Buying a house was a huge ordeal- selling will definitely be worse. Especially when I think about the fact that we really need to replace all the carpet and paint all the walls before anyone would ever want to buy this house. My only hope is getting super famous through this blog and then certainly there will be some society who wants to buy this house to turn it into a museum dedicated to my life. Don't you think?

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

I am very jealous of the fact that you own your own house.  Except for today.  Today, our house is a mess.  I'm busy with rotations, Chris is going to school and working...  Let's just say that the little things have sort of gone to hell.  So today, I am glad that I rent.  Because one day, I will get to pack up and leave this dirty, dinky little house and it will only need to be cleaned to the landlord's satisfaction.  And I know from how the place looked when we moved in that we can move out and leave much of the grossness behind because the last tenants definitely did.

Love,
Laura

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Dear Bora,

I think a big part of our problem with clothing centers on the ideology that if you're moderately thin like we are, you should want to show it off. So I think I've come up with a solution. We need to get fat, then no one will expect us to wear short shorts or bikinis. With the holiday season approaching, this is the perfect time to pack on the pounds. We may kill 2 birds with one stone- modest clothing in our size and bigger boobs to boot!

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

Honestly, the gap between what I want and what the garment industry believes I want is annoyingly large.  I want a modest pair of shorts; they make only daisy dukes - so I wear jeans all summer.  I want a flattering one-piece bathing suit; they only have bikinis in my size - so I wear the shorty wetsuit I bought when I went to the Galapagos Islands.  I want a nice pair of khakis to wear with flats at work; they only make them extra long to accommodate heels - so I wear the khakis I've had since 8th grade.  Seriously?!  Am I that weird to make clothes for?

Love you,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

I know. I hate bra shopping. My biggest problem is that with my size it seems that every bra is either "push-up" or "super-padded." It's like the undergarment industry is trying to make sure I understand that my bust is lacking. Did they ever stop to consider that I'm content with my body? I have come to terms with the fact that I will never have cleavage, why can't they?

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

I went bra shopping yesterday.  It is one of my least favorite things to do.  One, it's hard to find a comfortable bra.  And two, I have to try to avoid the self-image killing "Nearly A" while still managing to find one that fits.  I did eventually find two that will do, but there was one brand I didn't even bother to try on.  I'm sure that they were trying to convey comfort, but I just couldn't bring myself to buy a "Barely There" bra.


Love,
Bora.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Dear Kate,

I know it seems that I am an unhappy person - that I do not enjoy my life because I am always so envious of yours.  But the truth is, it just seems worse than when we were young.

Remember when you got a white hamper and white trash can for Christmas for your new bedroom and I got a pink hamper and pink trash can for mine?  I was positive that I'd been given the dumb one - even though they were the exact same except for color.  I whined and complained and you, being the "better" sister, offered to give me the white one.  To which I screamed because I knew you were trying to trick me.

See?  Now you realize that now is exactly the same.  I just don't have a hamper to compare to yours, so I am stuck being jealous of your life.  

And now you also see why I will not become a librarian even when you try to con me into it.  Because I know you're just trying to trick me.


Love,
Bora.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Dear Kate,

If we want our readers from Canada and Spain (yes, Spain!) to keep reading, they might want to know who we are.  I think you should edit your "Kate" page.  I don't have time to edit mine right now because I am furiously working on a massive research paper (obviously), but you should definitely fill yours out so that people will know why I'm cooler.

Love,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

I type like I talk- fast. The error is not in my grammar but in my typing skills. I learned to type in the 9th grade in a keyboarding class, but not by using the text book. The internet was still fresh and new and the school system had not yet learned to block websites. Joseph and I got into some chat room where everyone was from England (possibly because this class was first period- 7:30 AM) and we had to type fast so we could say what we wanted before the teacher made her way around the room. Speed, not accuracy, was key. It's been a hard habit to break. My fingers have a hard time keeping up with my lightning-quick (stroke free) mind.

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,
Thank you for defending my honor.

I do have 1 question for you, though...  do you proofread your posts?  I mean, you are a librarian.  I'm concerned about your apparent disregard for conventional English grammar.  It's really not like you.  Are you so filled with rage over this comment that you can barely control yourself?   

Or worse!  Did you have a stroke?  I see stroke patients every day - it can really affect your communication skills.  Are you having numbness on one side of your body?!  Are you having trouble seeing?!  Are you having sudden trouble walking?!  Do you have a severe headache with unknown cause?!

Call me immediately if you're having a stroke!!  Just make sure you speak clearly and with proper grammar or I might not realize it's you.
Love,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

His face is like an infusion pump.

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,
Dr. Meany-head said I dictate like an infusion pump.

Slowly in spurts.
Needless to say, I was offended despite how true it may be.

Love,
Bora.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Dear Bora,

My first year of not being a student was my first year of teaching. It was pretty much hell, so I didn't even notice the whole "not being a student for the first time in my life thing." I imagine next year will be a lot like that for you. After grad school, I had another year of not being a student and I was like, "Hey, I can volunteer for that." And I volunteered for a lot of things until I was like, "Hey, I kind of want to sleep." So now I'm like, "Hey, um, can I get off this committee?" and it's not going so well. I think you'll find things to occupy your time because people like you and me, we kind of get off on being overwhelmed.

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

I'm tired of school.  I have been in school for over 18 years now with not more than a summer off the whole time.  I've been in school so long that I don't remember what it's like NOT to have homework or studying to do.  I keep trying to picture the future - after graduation next year - with no tests to prepare for, no papers to write, no lectures to attend!  But I can't get a clear image in my head.  It's like trying to explain to a blind person what 'green' is.  I am blind to the freedom beyond school.  

Oh how I envy your simple and easy going life, Kate.  How I wish that my life were that wonderfully free from complexity and stress.  What does it feel like to not have a single worry in the world?

Love,
Bora.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Dear Bora,

I'm trying not to compulsively check Google Analytics. There are 2 reason I want to check it every 5 minutes. One, I think it's the best gauge we have to measure our rise to stardom and two, I am generally obsessed with digital measurement as it relates to me. Like my thermometer or my scale for example. I must know: how much more do I weigh after a shower? How much less do I weigh after yoga? How many tenths of a degree does my temperature rise over the course of the day? Is it higher or lower when I'm stressed? I think I can now add to the list: who is this person in Canada who reads our blog? and How can I make Laura funnier to increase our readership? to the list of burning questions.

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

I hate saying that I'm "working" when trying to explain what I do all day to people.  Because, I'm not really, you know?  So today, when was talking about what I'm doing I told my friend, "I'm clinically rotating" - which, as was pointed out to me, sounds like I am on some hospital-themed Tilt-A-Whirl.

And you know, it feels a bit like a hospital-themed Tilt-A-Whirl too.  And like the real life Tilt-A-Whirl at the fair, I think I'll punch you when I get off... even though I kinda liked it.

Love, 
Bora.
Dear Kate,

Your brain will not cook at 99 degrees no matter what you normally run.  Also, are you so insecure in your abnormal-ness that you need an objective scientific measurement based around an average "norm" to validate how you feel?

Love, 
Bora.
Dear Bora,

Besides the obvious fact that I am a cold-blooded freak of nature, why would my temperature be 95.6 degrees? Whenever I go to the doctor and they take my temperature, they say I'm not running a fever when it's 99, but that's 3+ degrees higher than my usual. How can I convince my health care professionals that I'm at death's doorstep when the thermometer refuses to confirm my illness?

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

Clinical Rotation Lesson #387:  Dictating is a lot like talking to yourself.  At first, you only do it when you're alone.  And if you can't be alone, it makes you uncomfortable and self-conscious so you do it quickly and quietly.  I've been told that eventually you become completely oblivious to others and you don't care who hears you.

This is one situation in which I wish I were a bit more like the psych patients right now. 

Love,
Bora.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Dear Kate,

Morning breath isn't so bad, and at that point in your life, having your teeth rot out of your face is really the least of your concerns.  The sticky thing is now my new number 4.  I refuse to be sticky!  Why is it that toddlers and old folks are always sticky anyway?  I mean, seriously, what are they doing?  Bathing in jam and using polydent as lotion??

Of course we'll be in the same retirement community.  Mostly because by then the death panels will assign people a place to go die after age 65, and B and D are close together in the alphabet.  But it could be worse.  At least we'll have each other's jokes to blame our incontinence on.

Love,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

I think the top of my list would be that someone:
1. brushes my teeth regularly (nothing worse than morning breath all day long) and
2. makes sure that I am never, under any circumstances, sticky.

I totally agree with the diaper thing, but I think I can live with whiskers and maybe even toe fungus- especially since I like to wear socks and won't have to see my feet often.

Love,
Kate

PS- we're totally going to be in the same "retirement community" right? I have a feeling we'll be even more hilarious when we're senile and incontinent.
Dear Kate,

When I'm old, infirm, and incapable of caring for myself anymore, there are really only 3 things that I would like to make sure are done, so please:

  1. Keep my chin free from whiskers.  I should immediately be recognizable as a woman to any new caregiver.
  2. Keep my toenails manicured.  There is nothing more frightening than toenail fungus that makes your toenails grow into thick, brown, vertical towers.
  3. Keep me clean from poo or pee.  Everyone knows you check a baby's diaper regularly, so you should check mine regularly too.
Thank you,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

You're right, this blog is not nearly as funny with only one sister (especially not if that one sister is you). I was just so busy enjoying time with Mom and Dad, I didn't have time to blog. Plus, I didn't want to make you too jealous. There's nothing you can ever do to make them love you like they love me. The love for the first-born is a bond like no other. Anyway, it's Book Fair week here in library land so expect a lower quantity of posts- though I promise not to slack on quality.

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

I know you were enjoying your vacation, but some of us have to work, and I'm a little tired of posting to our sister blog all by myself.  I mean, it's just another blog if it's only authored by one of the sisters.  Where are you?  And why aren't you posting at 6 AM like me?


Love,
Bora.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Dear Kate,

I noticed that we've been doing this blog for a month now and that we're still not famous.  I don't think you're posting enough.  Where's your work ethic?

Love,
Bora.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Dear Kate,

I love my dogs but I hate the incredible amounts of dog fur that they shed each day.  Let's just say that if abiogenesis were possible, we would be overrun by the only living dog-fur dust bunnies. 

How do you handle this problem with the over-sized, moving allergens you call cats? 

Love, 
Bora.
Dear Kate,

Funeral Director genes must run in the family because I too got Funeral Director as my top answer.  I now understand why you so often told me that I was adopted when we were younger - your own insecurities about not fitting into our family (because of your circus performer qualities) combined with the obvious fact that our parents do indeed love me the most must have really been difficult to deal with as the young blond girl of a brunette mother.

On a side note, maybe I should avoid telling future patients of mine that the government seemed to think that I would make a much better funeral director than medical provider (which didn't even make the top 50).

Love,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

I was just having breakfast with Mom and Dad (who love me more, by the way) and we were talking about that Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery test (you know, the one we each took twice in high school so we could get out of class for a few hours and get a marker?). Anyway, do you remember what careers they recommended for you? Mine? Circus performer! Did you know Dad's was funeral director? Either the Army got us all wrong, or Dad and I have seriously missed our life's calling. Wish you were here.

Love,
Kate

Friday, November 12, 2010

Dear Kate,

I have a hard time believing that "Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopy Pants" is anywhere near the literary genius of "Superfudge."

Love,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

I agree. Time zones and daylight savings are stupid. We should throw them out. While we're at it, we should throw out clocks and watches all together. Time? Who needs it. I'll get up and get to work when I'm good and ready. Heck, we might as well even throw out days of the week. I'll just measure my time by years, thank you very much. Let me know when it's 2011.

Love,
Kate

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Dear Kate,

I'm tired of time zones.  I was living 2 time zones away from home while on rotation in California and now, even though I'm only 2 hours from home, I'm 1 time zone away in the opposite direction from before.  My body is confused, I forgot to change the time on my computer, and even though it's unrelated, I lost my watch, okay?!

I think we should get rid of time zones.  Make the people in California get up when it's dark and go to bed with the sun is still up.  I wouldn't feel bad for them.  It's their fault for choosing to live there.  And because in the US we do things our own way, we can simply claim to no longer accept time zones and demand that the rest of the world work in "American Standard" Time.

Love,
Eastern Standard Time Bora.

P.S.  While we're at it, let's get rid of Daylight Savings Time too.  Did I mention that whole change only confused my poor, time-tortured body further??
Dear Bora,

I find words like that floating around in my head, but they are often the titles of the children's books I've been shelving: Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopy Pants, Jasper Dash and the Flame Pits of Delaware, Too Young to Die (yeah, there's a whole series like that- the middle school girls eat them up). These are the words I say in my sleep, the words that fill my head so I can't remember what I walked into a room to do. God help me.

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

Ever since that day when I used the word "Canucks" in a post, I can't seem to get it out of my head.  I have the urge to say it at least 10 times a day.  Mostly as a replacement for "darn."  Maybe because of the similarity to "shucks"?

Canucks,
Bora.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Dear Kate,

I can sing more like Ariel than you can.  

Aaaa-aa-aaa, aaa-aaa-aaaaaa, aaa-aa-aaa, aaa-aaa-aaa-aaa-aaaaa, aaaa-aaa-aaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

Love,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

You know how when we were little we'd always try to out-do each other? I feel like we're doing that again, but now it's like: "I'm more stressed than you" or "My life is way busier than yours" which is not quite as fun as "I have more Halloween candy left than you do" and "I can hang on the monkey bars longer than you can." Can we go back?

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

Remember the dirty apartment I'm living in that I told you about?  Well, it's not in the best area.  I found a can of mace in the closet left from some previous student.  I feel so much safer now.

Love,
Bora.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Dear Kate,

Yes, you can wear your librarian fleece vest on our book/movie tour in Canada this winter.  Just a-boot anything that's lame here in the good ole US of A is considered awesome in Canada, so the Canucks are really going to love you, eh?

Love, 
Bora.
Dear Bora,

I see we have someone who reads our blog in Canada. I need to start preparing myself for Canadian super-stardom. First, I'll need to purchase a new wardrobe if our book tour will include Canada this winter. Are fleece vests still "in" up there?

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

Every time I eat food brought in by a drug rep I feel like the politicians that accept campaign funds from questionable sources with questionable motives but swear they won't let it affect their decision-making.  It's like tainted, bribe food.  

But then the smooth-talking drug rep walks in and the spell of the food-bribe is broken.  As soon as the drug rep's mouth opens, I am 100% sure that the food bribe will have no effect on my prescribing.  Smooth-talk always throws my red flags up.

And thank goodness, because the food is so much more tasty when it doesn't have that nasty guilty aftertaste.

Love, Bora.
Dear Bora,

After years of getting up at 5:30 AM to get ready for school, I vowed to myself "never again." Never again would I regularily get up when there was a 5 in the hour place. I shower at night, keep my hair short so it won't require primping, lay out my clothes and pack my lunch the night before, anything to ensure I wake up after 5:59 AM. Maybe if you didn't spend so much time curling your hair into perfect ringlets and caking on the make-up, you could sleep in a bit. Consider it.

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

I have to get up at 5 AM for this rotation.  That's usually enough to get a groan out of people, but some people say, "Oh that's not too bad" or "Well I got up at 4:30 every day for 10 years" because they are meany-heads trying to diminish my pain so they don't have to exert the energy to pity me.  

So I set my alarm for 4:58 AM so I feel like I have more reason to complain about the indecent hour that I get up.  

"I mean, I have to get up at 4-something just to get to work!"

Love,
Bora.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Dear Kate,

Why would you want to get the grain of spicy Mexican rice out of your nose?  I love the smell of Mexican food.

Love,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

I have a medical question for you. I once laughed while eating Mexican food and got a grain of spicy rice stuck in my nose. It burned there for several days and would not come out no matter how much I blew my nose. Now I refuse to eat Mexican food unless I'm with really dull people, but I'd like to one day eat and laugh without fear. Is there was a way to get a grain of spicy rice out of one's nasal passages without waiting for it to decompose?

Love,
Kate
Dear Bora,

Hair, once it is no longer attached to some one's head, is one of the most disgusting things in the world to me. That and pet fur in large quantities. And up-close video of spiders. We were watching an episode of Dirty Jobs last night where Mike Rowe was milking black widows for venom and I honestly started gaging every time they showed a close-up of the spider mandibles. So look on the bright side, while your apartment may be hairy, at least there are not enlarged photos of arachnids.

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

I just moved into the school's apartment in another city.  It's gross.  Why is there a lower threshold for filth when it's someone else's filth?  Especially with hair.

Love,
Bora.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Dear Bora,

You are mistaken. Those are not my socks. They are clearly your socks. If I find them in my house, I vow on the lives of my unborn children, to return them to you. This is how I will show my undying sisterly love: those socks will find their permanent home with you if it's the last thing I do.

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

These are your socks.  I've returned them to you repeatedly, but somehow you always forget them in my stuff again.  I think this time you might have accidentally left them hidden in the lining my suitcase a few months back.  Don't worry, I'll get them back to you the next time I see you.

Love,
Bora.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Dear Kate,

Toy Story 3 came out a few days ago.  I cried during that movie, but not for the same reason everyone else did.

Remember the time you told me that your teddy bear could talk?  I told you that I knew he couldn't because my stuffed animals didn't talk.  To which you replied that they could talk but that they didn't like me.

I spent the majority of my childhood trying to get my stuffed animals to like me enough to talk to me.  Toy Story is just a reminder.

Thanks for traumatizing me,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

I was listening to NPR this morning and realized this blog is the Car Talk of the blogging world. So the nagging question is, do you want to be Click of Clack?

Love,
Kate

Friday, November 5, 2010

Dear Kate,

I too had been hoping that we would have heard from a book publisher or movie director by now.  My hopes were probably a bit high, but I was excited about the prospect of giving friends and family signed copies of our book for Christmas.

I don't want to hurt your feelings, but it's probably your fault.  Maybe you could try being funny like me?

Love,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

We've been doing this blog for almost a week now and I have yet to receive any phone calls from publishers. I thought for sure we'd at least have a made-for-tv movie based on this blog in the works by now. As soon as you started this blog, I was like, "Yes, my ticket out of the public education system." My eyes have been opened to the possibilities of a career that does not include words such as Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopy Pants. How much longer before I'm negotiating terms for our book deal?

Love,
Kate
Dear Bora,

Being boring, not unlike playing a basketball, is a skill that can be honed, but natural talent must be present first. I know this of course, because I genetically lack the ability both to be boring and to play basketball.

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

I know you're a librarian now but I really need to know if there was a class in college about how to be the most boring teacher ever.  Because our lecturers today are seriously skilled and I feel like it absolutely must have taken training.  I mean, they would have been A+ students in "Boring Lecturer 101."


Love, 
Bora.
Dear Bora,

I don't know what you're talking about. My skin tone is exactly that shade of peach-tan. The big companies who make those items make them for the ideal, which is clearly me. You, and anyone else with unnatural skin tones, should take the hint and get your skin dyed.

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

Why is it that "flesh-tone" things are always some shade between tan and pink that doesn't match a single person's actual flesh-tone?  Band-aids, ACE wrap, crayons, bras, slips... 

Someone should really run with the "mood-ring" technology and make chameleon-like "flesh-tone" items.  

Seriously, it's like... I have these ideas!
Love,
Bora.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Dear Kate,

Personally, I dislike dental appointments more.  Teeth are creepy.

As a clinician, I dislike gynecological appointments more.  Because with some infections, you do gag.

Love,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

Which do you dislike more: dental cleanings or gynecological appointments?

At the dentist, I get to keep my clothes on, but at least at the gynecologist, I don't gag during the exam...

Love,
Kate

Dear Kate,

Wow, that could be really interesting.  What do you think the probability is of Michelle and Jim Bob convincing these 16-year-old mothers not to use contraception faster than convincing them to save sex for marriage?

If they get started that young, they could totally have 25-30 children.  And if all their children started having children at 15 or 16... And if Michelle and Jim Bob do their part... let's just say we are on our way to a very large, albeit related, Christian majority.

Now here's a real question: What do you think all those kids and grandkids would do for the unemployment rate?
Love,
Bora.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Dear Bora,

What do you think would happen if they combined the reality shows 17 Kids and Counting and 16 and Pregnant?

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

I'm glad you like it.  I drew it last night.  I'm totally up for matching tattoos.  Can we get them big enough to cover our whole backs?

Also, I thought you should know that I'm winning.  I've peed in California now.  Plus Nevada if you count peeing over a state at 35,000 feet.

Love,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

Love the new logo! Did you draw that? We should totally get matching tattoos!

Love,
Kate

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Dear Kate,

It was not my fault that your tooth got knocked out when we were playing gymnasts in the living room.  Your face got in the way of my foot as I did a cartwheel.  I mean, I should be the one complaining.  You ruined my perfect 10's across the board.

Love,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

I went to yoga this evening. I think you would have enjoyed it. It's a lot like an adult version of when we would play "Olympic Gymnasts" in the living room as kids (you know, less somersaults and the subsequent kicking-out of baby teeth).

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

If you'd been in my Obstetrics and Gynecology class this summer you would definitely decide to adopt.  From a medical standpoint, pregnancy sucks.  During pregnancy, you can get high blood pressure, diabetes, or have a thromboembolism.  I mean, you could die.

Or worse, you could live to see the day when your tummy is all stretched out, your boobs get droopy, and your organs fall out through your hoo-ha.

Also, after childbirth you have a whiny baby that may very well grow up to resent you despite the skinny body you sacrificed.  I suppose an adopted kid could resent you too but at least your organs will still be on the inside.

Love,
Bora.
Dear Bora,

I've heard that your hair can change after pregnancy, but I was hoping for my hair to become more like Mom's (thick, dark, and wavy) rather than like Dad's. I also heard that your eye sight can get worse after pregnancy- just confirming my need to practice being blind. Coming home with a baby could hardly make up for being bald and blind. Maybe I should just adopt...

Love,
Kate
Dear Kate,

Yesterday I learned a new word: telogen effluvium.  It's a condition where you shed a lot of hair after a metabolic or hormonal imbalance.  So basically, you can go bald after pregnancy.

Please have children first so I know if this is likely to happen to me.

Thanks,
Bora
Dear Bora,
How very thoughtful of you. The title would imply that my presence would be required and I would be happy to oblige. I can feel it- this is the beginning of blogger stardom.
Love,
Kate

Monday, November 1, 2010

Dear Kate,

You know how we always said we should start a blog together?  Well, I started it without you.  But given the title and theme, I think maybe you should be a part of it after all.

Love,
Bora