Dear August, flutter by already. I will not miss you. Dear hideous running track at the park by grandmas house, we had an epic battle…and you won. Next time it won’t be 105 degrees and I won’t eat pasta and the outcome will be different. Dear Madeline, this may come as a surprise to you, but telling me that “picking boogers out of your nose makes your nail polish come right off” isn’t going to make me more likely to re-do your fingers. Dear great-grandma Fries-uh-ner, we had a killer time. Visiting you is always a blast. Dear Heather, my giant arm bruise is finally almost gone. I still don’t like vine-ripened tomatoes. But I’ll probably never say that to your face again….