Dear 100 degree weather, I want to break up with you. Also, it’s not me, it’s you (name that reference!). Dear house projects, I also want to break up with you. It’s hard being the size of a hippo and trying to squeeze around all the furniture crammed into our tiny dining room. (But dear tile, I love you and I know you will be worth it when all of the pain and suffering are over.) Dear old AC unit, thank you so much for giving out at the end of July when our entire house is torn apart and all the projects are half-finished and we still have to keep painting and pouring concrete and stuff anyway. You’re the best. Dear new AC unit, I love you and I’m so grateful that you were able to be put in so quickly. Dear Oliver, I can’t wait to meet you and I love you already. But if you could keep from sticking your feet in places that hurt it would be awesome. Dear Jerm, thank you for driving me all the way across Oklahoma to go to a store and restaurant that you have zero interest in. You’re seriously the best. Dear self, stop being such a whiner. Your life is goooood. (Name that reference!)
Dear old world, Happy Heart Day! It’s one of my favorite times of year – give me all the hearts and sprinkles and pink glittery things. Dear Texas, once again you’ve gypped us out of a real winter. Don’t expect forgiveness. Dear When Calls the Heart, I’m dying for the new episodes on Netflix. Hurry up, hurry up, 2/19!! Dear anyone who cares to listen to my general complaints about the world, here is what has been particularly bothering me lately: #1 – Why does everybody gotta hate everybody else these days? #2 – This quote – “In the end we only regret the chances we didn’t take” Um…I regret plenty of the chances I DID take. Worst/dumbest saying ever. #3 – How Charlie’s grandpa was completely bedridden and let the poor overworked mom take care of everything until POOF! he was suddenly healed when he had the opportunity to go to the candy factory. No amount of niceness could make me like him after that. Horrible man.
Dear 2017, you’re only a few weeks old, but you’ve already kind of been a jerk. Let’s do better, all right? Dear self, why, oh WHY, would you teach your kids the “greasy grimy gopher guts” song? How stupid are you? Do you hate yourself? WHY?! Dear Ang, BEST. SURPRISE. EVER. (One more week!) Dear self, now that you know how to run the miter saw and have built exactly one headboard (with a ton of help from the Jerm) I feel like you should go into the furniture building business. Dear Jerm, thank you for all the help and being patient with me and my projects. Especially when they come with faulty instructions.
Dear election day, surely the rest of the country is as glad you’re here as I am. Now the ads and ridiculousness and fighting and hatred won’t be daily ruining my life anymore. I mean, nothing will be resolved and everyone will still hate everyone else, but at least now I won’t have to hear about it every second of every day. I even voted, which is why I’m sitting here feeling faintly sick to my stomach right now. Dear America, how on earth, out of all the millions of people in this country, did we end up with the two most obnoxious candidates of all time to choose between? Dear identical silver Nissan Altimas that whipped around either side of me on the freeway at the exact same time, how very Twighlight Zone-esque of you. Like I need more proof that the world’s gone mad. Dear autumn, I didn’t have to use the AC in my car for the very first time this week. Congratulations, you’re a real boy now.
Dear Michel on Gilmore Girls, you’re pretty much my sarcasm hero. Dear fellow homeschooling moms (or teachers of any sort), please help a girl out and tell me what you found useful for….reluctant (which is an extremely nice way of putting it) spellers. I’m using Spelling Workout right now, but it just doesn’t seem to be working for one of my girls. HELLLLP!! Dear Texas, please, please give it a rest with the 90 degree October days. We’re all sobbing into our pumpkin spice lattes down here (not that I drink them, but whatevs). Dear self, you know how you promised yourself that you’d really and truly make a dent in your fabric and paper stash before buying new supplies? YOU CAN’T GO TO JOANNS and keep your promise. You know this about yourself, so Just. Don’t. Do. It.
Dear self, how can it be this hard of a decision to pick out curtains? You’ve had almost eleven years to think about it now. It’s time. Dear Madeline, I’ve asked you almost every day for two years now what an action verb is. If you tell me it’s a dog one more time I’m going to lose my mind. YOU KNOW WHAT AN ACTION VERB IS! I KNOW YOU KNOW IT ISN’T A DOG! Dear Blossom, I feel very sorry for you now that we’ve discovered that they make hats for dogs.This week you’re a cowboy, next week you’ll be a pirate. The possibilities are endless. Poor Blossom. Dear hip, you are not 100 years old. You are not even 50 years old. You don’t have my permission to hurt like you are. Dear self (again), awesome job on finishing strong on the Blog-tember Challenge. No, seriously, you should be proud of yourself. Dear Netflix and/or Amazon Prime, when are you going to add season 3 of When Calls the Heart?! I need my sappy fix, pronto.
Dear September in Texas, I have a bone to pick with you. It should not be 98 degrees on the 20th. You’re sneaky and mean and I hate you so much more than August. Dear universe, am I seriously the lone holdout on LuLaRoe leggings? Is is possible that I’m the single person in the world who doesn’t love those weird/wild colors and patterns? Please tell me it isn’t so. I need some friends who will stand with me against this trend. Dear pumpkin-all-the-things-lovers, I think yall need to hold your horses. Do you not understand that it’s still almost ONE HUNDRED DEGREES here? Have some pity on all of us in the South and wait until like…the end of October or something. And by the way, pumpkin-flavored-everything cannot possibly always be good. You may think I’m crazy, but I think you guys are a little too fanatical for your own good. Dear horrible, awful, plague-of-my-life flies, GO AWAY!! It is not summer again. You do not have my permission to be back in my house. My sanity will not stand for this re-invasion. Once a year is my limit. Ask anyone in my family…this will push me over the edge. Retreat is necessary before I do something we will all regret.