Been a trying week. They laid off a co-worker in my department because of cutbacks and the economy, and today is the 13-year anniversary of my mother dying from colon cancer.
So to cheer myself up, I'm reposting this blog post from 3 years ago when I made the biggest goof I've ever made when sending out Christmas cards. Uncle Ed died a couple of months after I sent the card, but I've always wondered if I made him smile.
Dear Uncle Ed,
I'm so sorry for the goof.
OMG, honestly, I never meant to send you a Christmas letter printed on the back of the erotic romance story I was writing.
It was dark in the office, I was tired, and thought I had loaded the printer with fresh, clean paper. Not the scrap paper from one of my current works in progress.
I had NO idea what I had sent you until I just looked now at the back of the Christmas letters and saw this printed on it:
"Because he found himself wanting, very badly, to have sex with her. To restore that sparkling fire in her eyes he'd seen earlier. To hear that throaty laughter turn into deep moans of passion as he thrust slowly into her wet heat...
"Yes, I'm afraid it's true, to answer the question probably spinning about in your mind. Your good little niece who works tirelessly for the poor and went to Sunday School and memorized prayers to the saints writes erotic romance. Yup. Steaming hot sex.
My secret is out. I hope you are doing okay and I didn't give you a heart attack. Give my best to everyone.