Dear neighbors on the hill, what’s up with the weird flashy light in your shed? My guess is aliens, but I can see how I might be wrong on that one. Dear Susannah, unfortunately the book of Psalms is not pronounced “possum.” Good try, though. Next time let’s practice at home instead of in the middle of church, though. Dear extremely rude person, what on earth were you thinking when you took the trunk I nicely left on the curb for you and then dumped everything in it all over my lawn? Is it okay to do that on the planet you were born on? Don’t worry, though, I didn’t mind picking up twenty-five million tiny toys and Legos and Barbie shoes up off my lawn in the 25 degree weather. Didn’t mind at all. Dear Mad, I know it’s time for you to be sick again since you were well for at least four days, but next time let’s try for at least six or seven. Poor kid.