Dear Trader Joe's,
The last two times I've bought wine from you I haven't been carded. This is a travesty. You should consider hiring new cashiers. Preferably ones who can see I *clearly* don't look a day over 21. . .
Dear March Monday Mornings,
You seem to be conspiring against me. If I'm not spilling tea on a silk blouse during your weekly visit, then I'm dropping sunglasses in the toilet. Thank goodness for Tuesdays, which, by all appearances, seem to be void of conspiracies.
You make me happy.
Dear St. Patrick's Day,
You mark the day I turned 28 1/2. Which means that today I am closer to 29 than 28. Which is really perplexing to me because it was just a few months ago that I turned 26. *Gulp*
You're turning out to be a banner year. Health, friendships, hiking, beach trips, running, weekend getaways, live music, fancy dinners, picnics, family visits, sunshine, satisfying work, new job opportunities — I kinda want to keep you around for awhile.
I would like to give a shout-out to you on here. Although I am positive you don't read my blog.
You are one of the best leads I've ever danced with. And dancing with a good lead is one of life's most delightful experiences — comparable to zip lining through the jungle, white water rafting down a waterfall, and hiking Half Dome. Seriously. What I'm trying to tell you is that dancing with you made my week. So thanks.
My little brother Marc made the New York Times Sports page:
He's kind of a big deal. ;)
Dear Men whom I date,
It turns out you can learn a lot about someone's character whilst gettin' groovy on the dance floor. More, even, than a rousing discussion over dinner, or a day spent in the great outdoors. So what are you waiting for? Polish yo dance shoes, and leeesssssss do this!
I miss you. Please come visit again soon.