A roundup of ideas for the father who probably isn’t 73 years old and would rather write a letter in his own blood than spend $45 on a pen.
If anything just call her up and say, “I’m so sorry for everything.” She’ll know immediately who it is.
I suddenly looked up and, oh. Christmas is next week. Next week. Or, as Leta puts it, THE FARTHEST AWAY ANYTHING HAS EVER BEEN!
I will forgive them for not making me a hot dog.