Am I welcome back?

I was going to say, "welcome back", but then I realized it was not you, but I who have been absent. Well, readers? Am I welcome back? 
To fill you in on some of my life, I'm doing another "little letters" post.

Dear Little Women,

Performance this week? What?! WHAT?! I was not originally not exactly pleased to be performing you, but I shall be very sad when this is over, and very sad to leave Jo March and her friends behind me. And how cool that I've actually gotten to perform you twice, once in one-act form as Amy, and now as a two-hour production as Jo. 

Dear Mozart,

Bach drives me nuts sometimes, I will admit. But you, I am always in good humor with you. Memorization is still kind of scary, but I will not tire of playing your sonatas.

Dear Brownie-in-a-Mug,

Um, you are way too easy. And addicting. I kind of love you, but I don't think you're good for me.

Dear Arthur,

Dear me but I miss you! I enjoy being busy... but our separation can never bring me pleasure. Soon, soon, we shall be together much more often. I have many plans and ideas welling up, meantime, to be  employed in this last sector before the end, or used for second drafts. Be patient, my dear!

Dear Tolkien,

I am LOVING rereading The Hobbit. You are a brilliant author. Brilliant. I eagerly await the reread of The Lord of the Rings, and one day attacking The Silmarillion.

Dear French Language as-a-whole,

Sometimes I think you drive me NUTS. But honestly, it's usually me who is driving me nuts with my inability to hold onto your slippery, vague words. I still think you are as beautiful as when I started. And I have hope that I will conquer you one day. I therefore keep plugging away.

Dear Driving,

As I think that we ought to go back to the horse-and-carriage days, I feel terribly disloyal to myself to enjoy you so much... but I do! In not so very long I shall have my license and not long after that hopefully acquire a car, even if I would rather have a black percheron or a dappled grey mare. P.S. You can stick around a while more, if you want.

Dear Presidential Elections,

All I can say is that it's a good thing I don't put my trust in the human political leader of a human country, because I would be looking at the cost of living in Ireland right now if so. (Actually I'm looking at the cost of living in Ireland already because... Ireland.) If we escape the one guy only for the other, it will be out of the frying pan and into the fire, I'm afraid. Yet my king is unchanging and his kingdom is unaffected by elections. So I do not tremble, for he is quite capable of dealing with whoever ends up the leader of this country.

Dear Opera,

Getting to see a real, full-length production in March was amazing, even if it was technically a dress rehearsal and the auditorium was filled with public-schooled teenagers (no offense to readers who fall in the category, but for we homeschoolers the typical teenager who is not homeschooled is usually quite different from us, and sometimes shocking or frightening). I admit that I didn't love you as much I had imagined in many memories, but it was also pretty cool to get to see you while acting in Little Women, as it was that movie that first gave me the opera bug. Thanks again for your beauty!

Dear Spring,

I end with you, because, although I resented your early coming and cast many longing glances at winter, I thrill to see your arrival made more evident every day. Your flowering trees, early buds, delicate leaves, and abundance of green! The air of one season is not quite like another, however similar the temperature, and I love the smell, feel, and experience of your air. It's lovely, and so are you.

Love,