I think I’ve mentioned I ride motorcycles.
So let’s talk about your skin. First, the basics: when did you first notice the mole, and has it changed shape or size since then? If not, you’re probably in the clear, but just to make sure, why don’t you send pix? Amateur (iPhone) photos are fine. Either way, even without seeing it, I’d probably advise you to have it removed. I know that’s a little hard to do when you can’t afford to pay a doctor in cash … but I have it on good authority that some doctors will accept payment in the form of margaritas and road trips up the famous Pacific Coast Highway.
That’s right; I’ll be in California next weekend.
As it happens, I’ve been trying to schedule a trip out there to meet an old friend from Doctors Without Borders (Bosnia, late nineties, treating burn victims in Sarajevo). Howie actually lives up in Berkeley, but I figured why not fly into LAX on Friday, rent a car, head over to your apartment and we can do a little guerrilla surgery on that mole. (I’ll bring all the tools; as long as you have a working gas stove, we’re good to go. Believe me, I had less to work with in Bosnia.) After that, your prescription for a speedy recovery is to get the hell out of Dodge. I’ll plan to get you a plane ticket back to LA from San Francisco for Sunday night, so you can be back in time for work on Monday. And of course, all meals, gas, and snacks along the way are on me. I’ll also supply ample Joni Mitchell and Leonard Cohen.
Screw Obamacare—I think you’ll find Larrycare much more effective. I’ve already put plane tickets on hold; just let me know if I can confirm.
Fondly,
Larry Shepherd
Your Mother’s Goddaughter, Who Makes High Six Figures, Would Love to be Reimbursed
Dearest friends and family,
Thank you for journeying to the wilds of rural Canada to celebrate our special day with us! It was a weekend we’ll never forget. It was especially meaningful for Kevin to see the three hundred people who mean the most to him take two flights, a ferry, and a half-day pedicab ride to gather on an undeveloped island he visited once as a kid.
Seriously, we cannot stop smiling.
Also, thanks to everyone who contributed to our Honeyfund. With your help, we’ll be able to enjoy three weeks in St. Maarten without having to worry about anything, including hidden costs like snacks and magazines at the airport (thanks, Aunt Laura!), gas in the rental car (Uncle Frank, you’re the best!), or the fee for renewing Kevin’s passport (love you, Jane!).
In the meantime, as we get ready to leave on Saturday at 2:55 (sorry, did we mention we’re excited about our trip?) we’re scrambling to dot our Is and cross our Ts to close out with the vendors and venue. As you know, we stocked your cabins with food and wine, since there are no cars on the island and the one restaurant within walking distance is only open every other Wednesday. According to our calculations, the total amount we spent on food for each cabin was $120.35. If you wouldn’t mind touching base with whomever you shared your cabin with to figure out how you want to divvy that up based on who ate what, that would be a huge help. A spreadsheet of everyone’s contact information is attached, and a link to our PayPal is below!
Tot ziens! (That means “see you soon” in Dutch ☺)
Rachel and Kevin
Your Sister Has Some Thoughts on Your Mother’s Goddaughter’s Invoice
OMG DUDE RACHEL’S EMAIL IM DYING
… i am speechless … are u gonna send her money?? like why are you so fuckin cheap? sorry lady it was yr decision to have a wedding with everyone u have ever met! and whatever u can afford it isn’t your husband a lawyer for red bull?
at the very least let yr guests know u are going to do this in advance. i wouldve just brought tigers milk bars from home—did i tell u tyler hooked up this crazy deal with this dude he lifts with at his gym who works at GNC? or fuck energy bars i couldve just brought tyler’s gun and gone out into the wilderness and rustled us up some fuckin steaks! probs wouldnt have been smart to take a concealed weapon on the plane tho haha.
i dare u to send Rachel a check for like 30 cents and be like oh yes I ate an egg sandwich but then i got the shits so i didn’t really digest it so yeah im just paying for half of it here you go byeeeeeeeee
jane
Ps—did dad send you his weird slideshow? like ok dude we know your wife got u editing software for yr computer calm down. also whyyyyyy did he pick a fuckin EMINEM song to go with the photos?! eminem is way past his prime just like you are old man! and that picture of his son in that plaid suit from the wedding?! I love how when u asked about it he was all STUART PICKED IT OUT HIMSELF. yikes that kid is gonna be so fucked in junior high …
Your Mom Has Some New Judgments She’d Like to Share
Hi sweetheart,
I just wanted to touch base and thank you and Jane for the beautiful “French Country” tablecloth you got me for my birthday! I put it on the big table in the dining room and have been eating dinner in there every night so I can look at it. It matches perfectly with the Russian doll salt and pepper shakers. Of course, since I eat most of my meals alone, one of the sides of the tablecloth is getting a lot more “wear and tear” than the other, but that’s okay! I don’t mind eating alone. I’m not worried about choking.
I also wanted to keep you posted on something that happened with Rabbi Josh last week. I don’t want you to feel awkward if you are working together on his television show, but because you didn’t mention anything about that at my bat mitzvah and you seemed to be avoiding him at the reception, I assume you haven’t had a chance to respond to his e-mail yet. I wanted to say don’t feel like you have to help him on my account—not after what happened last week.
I think I mentioned during your visit home that Loni and I thought it would be fun to spend Easter and Passover together and introduce each other to our respective faiths.
First, I joined Loni for Easter services at her church. (Do they call them services? I would look it up now, but I’m not sure how to do that without losing this e-mail!) The atmosphere was very inclusive, and I enjoyed the festive meal we ate after. Why don’t Jews eat more goose?
Anyway, then I took her to Temple Emanuel so she could see the famous Rabbi Josh “in action.” (Of course, she had met him at my bat mitzvah, but I did most of the performing that day!)
Unfortunately, we both got a window into a darker side of Rabbi Josh. Usually he finds a way to work some current events into the sermon when he talks about ethics and community, and this time, he chose to talk about the politics of the West Bank. I’ve always thought of Rabbi Josh as a very fair person, so I was surprised when he spoke of how Israel has a divine right to the land, in a manner I found to be very extreme. Loni thought so too—during secretarial school, she shared an office with a woman named Amira who was Palestinian, and they became very close, so she obviously thinks the whole situation is far more complicated. And so do I—I recently saw a foreign film at Coolidge Corner that showed a group of Palestinian children growing up in the shadow of war, in which many were harassed and tormented by the occupying Israeli army. The movie was fictional, but it was based on a true story.
After he finished, I went up to Rabbi Josh and asked why he doesn’t support a two-state solution. He became very defensive and implied that I was disloyal to my religion for even suggesting it, which was incredibly insulting. I left before the wine and challah sing-along. That’s how angry I was.
Loni was very good-natured about the whole thing. She took me to a nearby bar (the one where you always meet your friends from high school when you come home) and we shared a pitcher of sangria—your favorite! After a couple of glasses, she showed me how to log into Rabbi Josh’s Facebook account so we could look at some pictures of him. In most of them, it looks like he’s trying to pose to be a model or something. And he included some photographs of his wife that were very provocative—almost like he was trying to show her off. I think he might be an egomaniac. I decided not to renew my membership at the temple—at least, not as long as he�
�s presiding over things like a sinister Pied Piper!
How is your new apartment? Did you get the 20% off coupon to Bed Bath and Beyond I sent you?
Love,
Mom
Your Chinese Stepmother Wishes to Honor Your Day Job
Dear Julie,
It’s your stepmom, having written to let you know that I deeply admired your recent online article about celebrities who pretend to come from other eras entirely. This topic was of special interest to me, as my culture has great reverence for bygone dynasties and does not tolerate acts of historical impersonation.
Particularly offensive was one actress you discussed. About her work, I was previously unfamiliar. Since acquainting myself with her, I have imposed censorship on exposing myself to all future works involving this celebrity and her mockery of time itself.
Thank you sincerely for cautioning me against the art of Zooey Deschanel.
Yours truly,
Mei-Ling Feller
Your Dad, Who Just Joined Facebook, Has Another Request
Julie,
Thank you for accepting my friendship.
I have some good news. I have decided to compile my haikus into a book and self-publish it. Mei-Ling provided the illustrations, as she studied fine art back in Shanghai. A link to the manuscript is attached.
I would appreciate it if you could post on your Facebook page about my book of haikus. That way, everyone in your community will find out about it.
Dad
Your Mom, Who Had Six Glasses of Wine Tonight, Was Just Thinking about You
Hola honey!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I wish I could write upside-down exclamation points like they do here in Spain but I am typing this on my computer which is American and I don’t think they make that key on American computers. I wonder if I can find an Apple Store here in Barcelona where I can rent a new keyboard when in Rome. Not literally Rome because obviously I am not in Italy, but Rome in the sense of the old adage, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” meaning use the upside-down exclamation point!
I want to be honest, honey: I am stoned.
I also had two bottles of wine tonight with Loni after a wonderful meal of paella eaten on Las Ramblas. That’s the main drag here. The manager of our hotel, Felipe, recommended a terrific restaurant called Dos Palomas with a window overlooking a very large and colorful Gaudí. I think I told you about Felipe in my last e-mail. He’s the one who has an adolescent son who competes in something called a “rap battle” and will be coming to Los Angeles for a contest in May—I hope it’s okay that I gave Felipe your number for his son. The waiter at Dos Palomas was a very tall man who looked like he might be part North African—around here there are so many beautiful people of mixed ethnicity. He let us have our own little “wine tasting” so we could choose the bottle we liked best. Loni and I couldn’t decide between red and white so we had both. We stayed for hours just talking and laughing until the end of the night, when the waiter’s friend came to the bar to play cards and brought with him a bag of something. I can’t remember the name in Spanish right now but the gist is that it was hashish and Loni and I figured why not.
Being here reminds me of the last time I was in Spain, one summer during graduate school. I haven’t really told you about this part of my life, so I hope it’s okay that I’m sharing it now. I briefly had a Spanish boyfriend named Federico who was studying politics; we met while studying for finals in a Syrian café a few blocks from Columbia that served wonderful Middle Eastern sandwiches. I was drawn to Federico because he was different. At that time, all the other men on campus were only passionate about one thing (protesting the Vietnam War) but Federico wanted to escape it all and move back to Spain. He invited me to spend the summer with his family on an olive farm, and as you can imagine that seemed very romantic, so I accepted. But it turned out to be a fantasy. For one thing, Federico was culturally very macho. His parents were very nice and welcomed me into their home, but it became clear they wanted their son to have a traditional wife to cook and clean, and I was studying to have my own career as an analyst. I knew that sort of traditional life wasn’t for me, so I told Federico I had to leave. He became hysterical. At one point he even threw a plate across the room and I thought, I have to get out of here. I walked five miles to the train station. Unfortunately, I had given up my apartment in New York for the summer, so I decided to stay in Europe for another month. I took a train all the way to Amsterdam and found a spare room for rent in the home of a very artistic couple.
Jens and Mieke and I cooked meals together, and they showed me their work every night. I even posed for some of Jens’s paintings that were very impressionistic and haunting, like the work of Hieronymus Bosch. In one of them, my face becomes a clown’s face, and the ground underneath me is made of lava and is rising up to swallow the earth. There was something very sexual about Jens’s work, and in fact, one night Jens and Mieke asked me to join them in some sexual experimentation. At that time in my life, I had only slept with two people—my first boyfriend, Simon, who became a mathematician, and Federico—so I was curious to try it. The touching felt good and very intimate. Mieke had grown up on a horse farm where her parents raised Hanoverians, and she was a skilled horsewoman, that much was clear. But I could tell Jens had feelings for me that were more than just physical, so I came back to the States. The night I got back to New York, I went to a jazz club to meet my friend Polly, and that’s when I met your dad. Did you know your dad used to love jazz? Even during the busiest time of medical school and his residency, he would make the time to hear music and go to museums. Your dad had lots of passions then, before his depression got so much worse. I wish you had had a chance to meet that version of him.
It’s funny that I just called him “your” dad. Remember when we were still married and I used to just call him “Dad”?
Okay, sweetie, I should head to sleep. But first I’m going to eat the rest of this danish we bought at a stand from a wonderful young woman named Margarita. Loni and I have visited her every day since we got here. Margarita has very curly hair and reminds me of you. Have you ever thought about how there are people just like you and me all over the world who look and act so similar to us, but they aren’t us? I wish I could send you a piece of this danish so you could taste how delicious it is.
Love,
Mom
Your Mother’s Goddaughter Just Has a Couple Super-Quick Things Before You Meet Her Baby
Dear Friends!
Rachel and Kevin here. We have some news. For those of you who celebrated our wedding with us two years ago, remember the part where we both said we had found the love of our lives in each other? Well, we don’t know how to tell you this, but it turns out we were wrong. Because we’ve both met someone else …
Our first child, Aurelia Spruce Mavis Kivowitz-Finch! Aurelia Spruce was born weighing eight pounds, four ounces in Room 421 of New York Methodist Hospital between 1:29:55 and 1:32:13pm (from crowning to final toe) with four hairs on her head and a slightly discolored placenta due to tiny flecks of fecal matter in the womb. A time-lapse video diary is attached so you can witness all this in more detail.
Now that she’s home from the hospital, Aurelia Spruce is super excited to meet you! But first, as much as we hate to be “those parents” (we’re gagging even writing this), we’d love it if you could take a second to glance over this short list of dos and don’ts before you schedule a visit. For our friends who are already parents, this stuff is all probably second nature. For our friends who aren’t, don’t worry. It’ll happen for you.
—Immunizations: We’d love it if you were all up to date on your basic boosters (whooping cough, measles, mumps, and rubella). While you’re at it, it would also be great if you could swing by CVS or Rite Aid and get the newly patented black plague vaccination, Bubonicil. Unfortunately, since Bubonicil is still in Phase 1 clinical trials and not yet approved by the FDA, it’s not covered under normal health insurance. Luckily, it’s relatively reasonab
ly priced at a cost of $750 to $800 per shot in a series of four shots, administered anally.
—Other tests: To all the single ladies (and gents!), we’re super jealous of all the fun you’re having! We’d just love it if you could also grab a quick HIV test before you come by. Again, once you become parents, you’ll understand why we’re taking these kinds of precautions (of course, if your results come back positive, that may end up being a nonissue). No need to mail us the test results or anything—we trust you! Scan/e-mail is totally fine.
—For our friends who live in prewar buildings: Congratulations on your elegant, timeless home and its place in New York’s history! It would just be great if you could have your house inspected by a state-certified agency to ensure that no coat of paint manufactured before 1978 remains on the walls. If it does, please take a moment to repaint your home and dry clean your clothing to remove any traces of lead dust.
—Talking: Once you’re here, it would be great if you could use correct grammar and syntax around Aurelia Spruce. Not a huge deal; this is just a fancy way of saying please avoid any abbreviations, regional accents, or colloquialisms until she becomes linguistic. Obviously this doesn’t apply to our London-based friends, who are encouraged to exaggerate their pronunciation and mannered idiosyncrasies while interacting with our little one.
—Gifts: Gifts are not necessary! Your presence as a guest in our home is gift enough. However, if you do choose to bring a gift for Aurelia Spruce, thank you! We also thank you in advance for shopping within a gender-neutral color palette. If you’ve been keeping up with recent studies, you may have heard that prolonged exposure to the color pink has been linked to insecurity, a high risk for passive-aggressive behavior, and a diminished likelihood of a leadership position in the entertainment industry. The color blue, meanwhile, is associated with deficient empathy, an adult-onset tendency to respond monosyllabically during arguments with romantic partners, and a lack of awareness about the extent to which male privilege facilitates accomplishment in the workplace. Scary stuff!
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