Dear Friday . . .

Dear Friday Letters,
I've missed you.
If I could find absolutely nothing to blog about all week, at least I could squeeze out something, ANYTHING, for Fridays. Because Fridays are cool. Everyone loves Fridays. Because you're awesome. And you lead us to Saturday, which, I'm sorry to say, is more awesome.
It's hard being second favorite, isn't it?
Also, because you're Friday, people publish articles like THIS and I die. Because it's awesome . . . and it's Friday.


 
Dear Shasta,
See, puppy? I kept my promise. I took you on a nice long walk all over town. Just like I did yesterday. Besides, when I say the word, "walk," you get so worked up and bouncy and just . . . well, you explode, puppy. You kind of explode. It starts small, with a curious head tilt, and then you see I mean it, and suddenly you can't sit still. First, you run like a freakn race horse through the living room, then you start jumping and yelping and wagging and just OHMYGODWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALK!!!!
How can I deny you? You're hysterical.

 Dear Navi, 
STOP CHEWING ON OUR STRAWS.  First, you steal water out of uncovered cups, and now you're violating the covered cups. Seriously STAAAAAHHPPP IT!!!



Dear Pipkin,

"Draw me like one of your French girls."

You may continue to lounge about in front of my computer monitor. I enjoy the company--you give my fingers kitty kisses and make all kinds of funny noises in your sleep. You can stay. Just PLEASE stop trying to groom your thighs when I'm playing games--you keep turning off the screen in the middle of vital, pixelated life-or-death moments.  -_-

 Dear Self, 
If you get a life, you might ACTUALLY have something to take pictures of besides your pets. Please and thank you.

Dear Local Library,
You are tiny.
I thought maybe you were bigger on the inside, but no, you're tiny. Like the size of my downstairs tiny. Like, for the first few seconds, I just stood there, mesmerized by your tiny-ness. One wall non-fiction, one wall fiction, and three short shelves encasing the area with childrens/juvenile books. I had seen larger personal collections. Tiny.
But that's not a bad thing. You're old, you have character and hidden gems, I'm sure. And I mean, you're a library, which means FREE BOOKS. Heck to the Yes. In fact, I brought home three new books to try.
I've missed libraries. I might read through you in a couple of months, but, hey, months of books are months of books, and that CAN'T be bad.
So, here's to our new relationship. Who says size really matters, anyways?

Dear San Juan Bakery, 

I'm going to have to make Friday visits a regular thing.
First off, you are the cutest little thing EVER with your little retro sign and your tiny chalkboard with the swirly letters reading, "Yes! We're Open!" because, let's face it, everyone WANTS you to be open. You make that whole corner of the street smell like heaven, and you're just the perfect picture of a sleepy town shop.
And your clerks are super nice. Today, I even got to talk to one of your employees about books, and, let's face it, I haven't talked books with someone face-to-face in MONTHS. Oh, so refreshing.
Plus, on Fridays, you have the BEST doughnut holes in existence (sorry Krispy Kreme, you've met your match) that melt in your mouth, and just YES. And there's the White Chocolate Coconut bread that Chris and I have become addicted to. Dessert? Who needs dessert? I have the softest, sweetest, richest slice of pure awesome melting in my mouth right now. Screw dessert.

Dear Dessert, 
 I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. You know I love you, baby.