This one is written by Jodi.

A few days after I had made these two life-changing decisions (well, one of them was life changing), I was woken up by the sound of my father crashing into a door. He tends to do things like that. It's kind of like my mom being slightly emotionless; its just part of his nature, and it always has been. Considering it was about 5:30 in the morning, I tried to go back to sleep, to no avail. Then I wondered why my dad was up this early. He usually does get up pretty early, but not this early. It made sense that he wasn't turning any lights on so he wouldn't wake me, but still…so I went to see what was going on.

Dad was standing by the kitchen table, with a piece of newspaper with an add on it. I blinked. The add was for a florist company. Dad was talking to the guy on the other end.

"Ok, now put on the card, 'happy anniversary, from Josh.'" It was nowhere near my parents' anniversary. "No, from Josh. Thank you." I cleared my throat loudly. My Dad turned around and the look on his face when he saw me reminded me that of a little kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. He quickly turned his attention back to the phone. "You'll deliver them to the address I gave you? Thank you very much. Good-bye." He hung up and looked back at me.

I cleared my throat again. "You know its not yours and Mom's anniversary, right?"

Dad looked relieved. "Yes, I know. I wasn't sending your Mom flowers."

As good as this news was, it made me even more scared. "You're sending someone else flowers? For some anniversary?"

Dad was about to say something, then changed his mind. "I won't lie to you. I'm sending them to Donna."

Ok, does he know that he's making me more scared with each answer? "Why?"

"It's kind of a long story." I crossed my arms. "It has to do with car accidents, broken angles, and there not being anything funny about the jokes for the annual correspondent's dinner."

I continued to interrogate him. "What anniversary?"

"The anniversary when Donna started working for me."

This seemed reasonable, and I would have settled for this if I didn't have a secret weapon that my dad didn't know about. So later that day I sent Donna an email. I took a deep breath as I clicked 'send'. I really hoped this worked.

Donna Moss walked into her office at the normal time, not excepting anything unusual for that painfully usual day. So imagine her surprise when she walked in and saw a beautiful bouquet of flowers on her desk. It wasn't horrifically large, but it wasn't tiny either. She was even more surprised when she read the card: 'Happy Anniversary. From Josh.'

Wow.

This was the very first time since they had left the White House that he had acknowledged their 'anniversary'. Normally, she would have called him up and given him a verbal beating if she wasn't so touched by the gesture. He does have nice taste, she thought ruefully, knowing she would spend all day analyzing it, wondering what he meant by it.

Another twist in her day occurred around noon, when she got an email from Liz:

To: dmoss@kilbertco.net

From: lizzie_ly@hotmail.com

Subject: I really don't know

Donna, I caught my dad ordering a 'special delivery' to your office. When I asked him about it he started saying stuff about car accidents, broken ankles, and jokes for the correspondent's dinner. You asked me to email you when Dad didn't elaborate on stories, so here I am.

Thanks,

Liz

Donna couldn't help but smile when she read it, and it compelled her to write a very informative reply:

To: lizzie_ly@hotmail.com

From: dmoss@kilbertco.net

Subject: I don't know either

Liz, since you really want to know the whole story, I'll comply. I started working for your dad in February, after my boyfriend and I broke up. Later, I stopped working for Josh because my boyfriend took me back, but we broke up again and I went back to work for Josh in April. He sent me flowers every April to celebrate our 'anniversary' because he knew it bugged me because I really started working for him in February. One of these 'anniversaries' occurred while we were trying to 'put the funny' in some jokes for the correspondent's dinner. The car accident and broken ankle things don't matter. Thanks for emailing me.

Keep in touch,

Donna

P.S. I like your email address.

I got the email that afternoon, and that was pretty much the last I thought of my plan for a while. I returned to my mom's house, and was asleep on Thursday morning when my mother shook me awake.

"Elizabeth Joan Lyman! WAKE UP!"

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

'Why?"

"Don't start!"

"I like starting."

"Get up."

"Insert whining and contradictory reply here."

"ELIZABETH!"

"Fine."

"Good."

"Why am I getting up?"

"Do I have to say your full name again?"

"Yes, because I think I forgot it, and you just answered a question with a question."

"Of all the unimportant, pointless, insignificant-"
"You just said three words that all mean the same thing."

"I have an emergency trip to Ohio."

"Again?"

"Yes."

"We're not moving to Ohio, are we?"

"We will if you don't get out of bed now!"

"Am I going with you?"

"Do you want to come with me?"

"I really don't."

"I don't think the point of that was to make me feel loved."

"It wasn't."

"You're adorable."

"Yet ill-adored."

"Go figure."

"Yeah."

"You are going to your father's house."

"See, right there, the fact that I have to go to Dad's house is a non-feminista gesture because you have to rely on Dad."

"You are so much like your father."

"I am."

"Elizabeth."

"You know, you can't say my name and expect me to know what you're talking about."

"Can't I?"

"Why do you call me Elizabeth?"

"You just changed the subject."

"Thanks, since I've only been practicing my conversational skills for fourteen years, I appreciate you clearing that up."

"You didn't start talking as soon as you were born."

"Dad says I did."

"Your father hears voices."

"Like you see things?"

"Elizabeth."

"You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"Why do you call me Elizabeth; honestly Mom, can't you remember these things?"

"I remember the important things."

"So I'm not important? I love your new, emotional persona."

"Get up."

"Why do you call me Elizabeth?"

"It's your name, get over it."

"Dad calls me Liz."

"Your father hears voices."

"I don't think he does, and do you realize I've detained you for about five minutes?"

"ELIZABETH."

"Getting up, getting up."

So half an hour later we were pulling up to my father's apartment. My dad opened the door and cheerfully greeted me: "Merry Christmas."

"Hi," I replied. "Mom is leaving and I get to stay with you for two days, but knowing Mom, she's probably going to say that I need to stay with her for Christmas as a result."

"I'm sure. You know, I was going to call you anyway?"

"Enlighten me."

"I have a visitor."

I followed Dad into the living room and grinned at who I saw. "Aunt Claudia."

"Elizabeth Joan."

"You know, I have a striking suspicion that you know that Mom calls me Elizabeth and you do so as well simply to have fun at my expense."

"You're daughter is starting to sound like Toby, Joshua."

"Who?"

"The guy with the tourists," Dad explained.

"She knows?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I have that information."

"Now she's starting to sound like you, Claudia Jean."

"Josh, let me just say: so far up your ass!"

I raised my eyebrows, but no one noticed, because they were laughing too hard.

Finally Aunt CJ turned to look at me. "Do you want me to drive you to school?"

"Absolutely."

"I feel so unloved."

"You aren't unloved, Father dear, I just prefer Aunt CJ do it, but you can tell me some pointless jokes after dinner, because you are such an hysterically funny person. Did you notice how I used 'an' there correctly."

"I did, and I must say we are making progress."

"I have to go to school."

Aunt CJ and I went out to her car and she turned to me. "I haven't talked to you in a while have I?"

"The last time you talked to me was when you told me about the National Cartographers for Social Equality, and I think I drove Mother so nuts that she would have kittens if she knew you were here."

"Now that's something I would like to see."

"What?"

"Your mother have kittens."

"Why do you inquire?"

"You speak West Wing."

"Did not understand response. Require elaboration."

"It would be so much simpler if you just said, 'huh.'"

"This is so much more amusing."

"You are just mad that I called you Elizabeth Joan."

"Plus that."

"I think I will continue doing that for awhile."

"Why?"

"Because I can."

"Well, I can call you Monkeyface, but I choose not to."

"Thank god for that. See, you're still doing that. Talking West Wing."

"Do I need to start with the elaboration again?"

"You are speaking with a sarcastically implemented tone of voice, and with unnecessary long words, most commonly used by those who work in the West Wing of the White House."

"Like Donna?"

"How do you know Donna?"

"She took me to Take-Your-Daughter-To-Work Day."

"Did she?"

"Yes."

"Did you have fun?"

"Oh yeah." There was a long pause. "Aunt CJ?"

"Yes?"

"Uncle Sam said Dad and Donna almost got together."

"That's true."

"I figured."

"Congratulations."

"I'd tell you Dad sent her flowers, but I'd be afraid that you'd slam on the breaks." Screech. "Like you just did."

"Your dad sent her flowers?"

"It would seem that he did considering that I just said he did."

"Liz?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you like her?"

"Yeah. A lot. Aunt CJ?"

"Oh my god. Hold on." She reached into her bag for her cell phone and pushed a button on the speed dial. It rang a few times and then someone answered, so I listened to Aunt CJ's part of the conversation: "Hey Cadet, its me. Just calling to wish you luck before dance tryouts…Yeah, remember to focus on what you're doing at the moment, not on your mistakes…yeah, not like your dad. That's right…ok, knock 'em dead, Cadet."

She hung up. "Who was that?"

"Cady Rebecca Zeigler. Her dad is-"

"Toby-the-guy-who-calls-the-protestors-tourists."

"Josh told you?"

"Him and Uncle Sam."

"I thought he never told you stories."

"He doesn't. Uncle Sam initiated the incident." Another long pause. "Aunt CJ?"

"You know, when you say my name like that, it sounds like you're asking my permission to speak."

"I gonna try to get Dad and Donna to get back together." Screech. "You gotta stop doing that."

"I think it's a great idea."

"Really?"

"Yeah, just don't botch it up."

"That's more of my dad's department."

Aunt CJ pulled up in front of my school. "Ok, I'll see you later, hopefully. And if you need any help with…your little scheme, call me."

"Will do. See you later."