From The Ashes ...

An Open Letter To Charlene,

It's Julia. Welcome to Sugarbaker's.

Well, you've gone and sold your soul to the devil. I tried to warn you but you seemed determined. I kid. Your new co-workers are fun, funny and deep down a pretty amazing bunch. In the rich tradition of all bars everywhere they also have a long and colorful history of drug, alcohol and mental problems. That's why they love me so, I'm a triple threat. At least I think they love me so. If you find out they don't love me so please don't tell me I don't want to know.

I'm sure you'll make a fine new cashew in the nutbowl. Don't take any shit from my girls. A lot of them think that just because they've been around for eight years they "got juice". I've never let them know I've always found a fact like that rather pathetic. A lot of times when I talk to them I'm making a mental grocery list or balancing my checkbook. So don't assume something's true unless you heard it from me. I may not tell you the entire truth but I never lie.

Try not to look out at the room and think it's our future in 25 years. That way lies madness. And always remember that in that 20 year separation there is a whole different era. Their pasts are not ours so I doubt their present is our future. At least, that's what keeps me from collapsing into a heap of sobbing spasms on the bar top.

So, the reason I'm writing is this:
While we're not bestest girlfriends or anything we have sort of formed this on-line connection these past few months. Now that we're working together (Saying I'm anyone's boss makes me uncomfortable. The word "boss" makes me uncomfortable. I much prefer working together.) I suppose we ought to address the elephant in the room and decide what to do about that part of our relationship. I suppose the smart and/or mature thing would be for both of us to agree to delete each other from our sites and turn our backs and walk in opposite directions. It is plain for all to see I rarely opt for smart or mature. And while I can only speculate about you, I can definitely speak for myself and say that if I told you I deleted your site and I'm not reading, that would be a big fat lie. I've got the self control of a three year old, and I wouldn't be able to resist peeking in. Plus, I've enjoyed your writing and I haven't even had the chance to paw through your archives yet, so I find the prospect of promising not to look....Impractical. So what I propose is this: Let's not even try to put the genie back in the bottle. I have no plans to edit what I write about simply because of our newly close proximity. I'll just keep in mind that you're there in case there's something I want to keep super, super secret. Or I'll write it, swear you to secrecy, and unleash a jihad upon you and your house if you spill it. You write whatever you damn well please, keeping in mind I might read it. I promise not to reveal that part of our relationship to any of your new co-workers. You'll find as we get to know each other further that keeping confidences is one of my best qualities. I'm good at secrets, except when it comes to myself, of course.

M'kay?

I have to go. Suzanne has her ass stuck in the railing outside.