Little Letters July 2016 ~ or Vacuum Cleaners, Limeade and 90°+

It has been a while since I've written about my life, and so I thought I'd do another "little letters" post to elucidate my state of affairs.

Dear CPU-2T,

I love you. I could just leave it at that, but you deserve more. Your energy, your trim figure, your cheerful color... There is much to admire about you even from a stranger's persepctive, but few can understand the relationship we share. It is unfortunate that there is no legal basis for a marriage with one of your kind. Let me simply say, that there is no one I would rather clean an office with.

There once was an office housekeeper,
Whose vacuum was just a sad peeper.
She was given a CPU
and is no longer blue,
For her new friend's a magnificent sweeper!

Dear Summer,

I have heard you are a pleasant companion in England, Kalaalit Nunaat, and Nova Scotia. There are even some parts of the United States where you are no bad friend. But here, in the Midwest, let me just say that you are abominable. We have had over a month of constant 90°-100° weather, with only half a dozen days of 85° and one blissful weekend of 68°. I. Do. Not. Like. It. I do not like this weather in a box, nor with a fox, nor in a train, nor in the rain (if there's going to be rain it ought to cool the world, not just add to the humidity! One feels cheated!). Please get a hold of yourself.

Dear Limeade,

On these very hot days you are my one consolation (other than my mother, cold black tea, air conditioning, books, and babies). I've never really seen the need for you, since lemonade is so delightful, but when the need arose for a lemon-free and sugar-free drink, I thought I'd give you a try with a bit o' stevia, and voila! You're delicious.

Dear Fleas who reside in the basement,
Get OUT of my house so my poor kitty can come upstairs. You could not be more unwanted if you tried. Just die, every last one of you. (Yes I know I'm a vegetarian and I love killing bugs and I'm a contradiction. Be quiet.)

Dear Tale of Two Cities,

I have heard many poor reviews of your master, Mr. Dickens, but from my personal experience I can now refute them. Your characters are realistic and interesting (with the exception of Lucy Mannette...), your plot is anything but predictable and your writing is witty. Though I am only half done with you, I heartily applaud your maker.

Dear Drama,

It is so strange and sad that this will be my last year acting, and equally strange and exciting that I will get to direct a one-act play. If I could only FIND a one-act play, that is. Directing I'm not worried about, casting I'm just a little nervous for, but finding a script is very trying. 

Dear Breakfast at Tiffany's,

I am so confused. I have so many reactions that I have no idea if I even like you.

My dear, dear, Arthur,

You have reached 91, 530 words, or approximately 366 pages, and yet in all likelihood you will need 8,000 more words before being finished. I am half amazed and half horrified. But there is no "halves" about it when I think of finishing this first draft. Do you believe we've been working together since January 2012? That's over four years. Crazy. There have been ups and downs — goals met and goals failed. Favorite characters who are killed and moments of uncertainty if this work would ever come to fruition. But my dear, I no longer fear that end. 8,000 words seems a large amount to write before I reach the end, but since we've been doing 1000 a day, that's really a very short amount of time.

Dear Future Car,

I would be so pleased, tickled pink even, if you would just get a move on and show up. To say that my sister and I are eager for your arrival is an understatement. 

Dear Tolkien,
I write you yet again because Lord of the Rings is just awesome. The fact that I am STILL reading it, yes, three months after starting it, has nothing to do with the quality of the book. It is neither boring nor hard to read. It is lovely and I regret that I have so little time for pleasure reading, or I might have been finished long ago.

Dear Classics Challenge,
Never mind.

Dear Nineteenth Century,

I love doing school in the summer when it means I get to study history. You're no exception to the fascination I have with bygone eras. Napoleon, Wilberforce, Shaftesbury, Beethoven — and that's just the first half. I am eager to learn more of the second.

Most sincerely,