Lawsuit With The Devil - Dear God

Dear God,

It's Michelle. I don't know if you saw us today. We, Rick and me, had another court mediation with the devil and his wife, otherwise known as Mim and Cat (I've changed their names to hide their identities, though you know who they are). I see you are doing great things for them. They pulled up in their 2009, shiny silver Cadillac. I thought you might take it away from them when they came into court, lied to the judge that they were poor and needed our money for their dismal retirement, but nope! They appeared to drive away in it when the mediation was over. I'll guess they drove right back up to their 2 1/2 acres in Los Altos Hills, but only you know for sure.

I know it seems like I might be bitter, given how the last 3 years have gone, but I really wanted to tell you that I've moved on from that. Bitterness seems so last year, if you know what I mean. I'm down to reminding Rick just once a day that he should have listened to me, which is down from the 152 times a day I had gotten up to in May. I think I'm doing real well with that.

Also, I've really tried hard to curb my use of profanity, since I felt sure that you were holding back blessings when I imbibed too profusely. I know, and I passionately apologize for using it so creatively last Friday upon the closure our first mediation. I know you don't like excuses, since I've read all about the Israelites in the desert, but first of all Rick should have listened to me, and secondly, that ice-skating coach who tried to keep me from my little girl, Chloe should have read the crazy in my eyes to know better than stand between a mama bear and her cub.

I had hoped the things I said to her were wrapped up in so much furor that the actual profanity itself wouldn't be as offensive, as was my overall demeanor. Unfortunately, I hear that's not how it went down: After dropping my head back and saying one last profane thing to the sky, or the ceiling of the ice-skating locker room, I guess Chloe started crying. I feel really bad about that, since it wasn't my intent to make Chloe cry, but Coach Manna-litza. I mean, Lord God, you know a woman with a name like that is not reasonable! I don't even know her last name, but I bet it only confounds the prissiness, and the ability to deal with her reasonably.

Now, onto the other stuff. Yes, I drank an entire bottle of wine...well, almost. I couldn't really stay awake for the entire bottle. It made me so sleepy. I think I got a little offensive too. In fact, yes, I'm sure I did. I think I may have breached my one reminder a day rule with Rick. I think I breached it real bad. Right before losing count, I'm pretty sure I was up to 86 times in an hour for reminding him that he should have listened to me, though when slurred, could conceivably account for less, since most of those sentences and words ran right into each other. Maybe he won't remember?

So, I'm sorry about that too. I have really screwed up lately. What I've come to realize is that it is far easier to be perfect, look perfect, say the perfect things, act the perfect way, ecetera when you are not pressed to the bottom of the frying pan with the heat turned on high, and the weight of that spatula pressing all the juices out of you. Some days I don't feel like getting up at all, but since Mim and Cat keep on attacking us, I guess I have to keep getting up and fighting, even if it's weak, stupid looking, and pitiful. That Fight or Flight rule is true, but there's no where to run, and I've realized that my ability to fight isn't as street and ghetto as I'd hoped it would be.

Just like Vanillia Ice, I don't have street cred. I grew up in a blue collar working community. There were gangs somewhere nearby, but I mean really, they would have never let me in unless I did something crazy like cut off my fingers to permanently configure a gang sign, and God, you know how I hate pain. Remember that time I broke my finger catching a softball?

What I'm saying God, is that I need help. I have tried to be good. I have prayed until the words are just memorized repititions of years of words. I have memorized and owned Jeremiah 29:11, Josh 1:9, and Lamentations 3:20 -22. I love you Lord with all my heart, but this train headed dismally for the cliff is the most painful ride I've ever been on. Please help me get off this crazy train, and while the entire idea makes for an amusing metal song, it doesn't make for a good life.

Please help me, Oh God. Help me get out of this lawsuit with the devil, and if I can't get out then, let me quote that sage philosopher Nacho Libre when I say, "I wanna weeeeen!"

Love Forever and Ever,
Michelle

(***Just a note to all concerned: Please don't be too concerned, because in our house the word "crap" is a no-no and considered profanity. Also, 2 glasses of White Zinfandel is really what put me over the edge, so really, very Vanilla Ice - no real street cred, just pathetic).