She tried to drown me once. Not long after, she poured a half-gallon of lemonade over my head just because I tried to poke her eye out with a pencil.
With those round, brown cow eyes of hers she’d look straight at Mom and Dad, pure innocence, and flat-out lie to get me in trouble. If I’d had any say in the matter, she wouldn’t be alive today. But she is and I’ve come to accept that. I would go so far as to say there are times that I’m glad she’s on this planet.
Katie is very, very funny and she’s a good writer — like E. B. White’s Charlotte, but with fewer legs. Last night, when I got yet another delightful e-mail from her, I had an inspiration: to gather some of her finest letter-writing onto this blog.
I asked her permission and, though she was bemused, she granted it. I have at least several years’ worth of her e-mails to go through, if I can figure out how to unearth them from dusty, expired data drives.
I didn’€™t try to “€œdrown”€ you. I tried to “€œhydrate”€ you.