So, I've talked before about how my father was married about a year ago, how he was engaged to his new wife almost a year to the day after my mother's passing. Well, he has been living in wedded bliss ever since. He's traveled to Italy and New Mexico and Florida and Bermuda and Vermont and Martha's Vineyard and I can't remember where else (they're basically off somewhere every couple of months). Right now they're on the West Coast: California, Seattle and wherever. Anyway, I hear from him maybe once a month or so, but when they're traveling, I get a postcard. From her. And the worst of it is, She. Always. Spells. My. Name. Wrong. Because we all know that the name "Debbie" is very complicated to spell. I don't know why my own father can't take one whole minute to write a "Hi Deb, love Dad" (only with him, it would be "Luv" not "Love" -- I'm splitting hairs, I know, but little things like this illustrate clearly the non-existent affection that exists in my family). It just irks me to no end. What little, tiny effort does it take, if you've already bought the postcard anyway? A postcard from her is meaningless to me. ARGH!