Dear world, it’s been a very, very long time since my last Tuesday Letter and I felt one was probably due. Dear guy who can’t drive in a straight line, thanks a lot for wrecking the entire side of the car we had parked in front of our house last Sunday morning. Good one, dude. Dear double-digit multiplication, you think you’re all funny and everything, but we aren’t amused. We may be struggling now, but we’ll master you and THEN who will be laughing? Dear Hope (our tiny and only quail that hatched out), I don’t know how you didn’t break your itty-bitty neck when you managed to jump out of that giant tub that we have perched way up on top of the desk in the garage, but I’m glad you didn’t because that would have been tragic. Cause you’re so stinking adorable and I don’t know what we’re going to do with you when you’re full grown, but releasing you into the wild is looking less and less likely… Dear Texas, you tricked us with all that ridiculous rain we’ve had all spring into forgetting just how hot it was going to get as soon as the deluge stopped. And now it feels like Nebuchadnezzars furnace. Good one again. Dear Little Rock, Memphis, Nashville, Kentucky, Cincinnati, Chattanooga, Birmingham, and Jackson – we’re coming for you next month. Can you tell I love road trips? Dear 16 chicken eggs that are due to hatch next week, keep doing your thing. I have no idea what on earth we’ll do with SIXTEEN chicks, but I don’t even care. I just want cute, fuzzy, yellow chicks. And lots of them. Dear self, I don’t even know you anymore, you weird animal-liking person. Dear Susannah, how on earth are you a week away from being nine? I very clearly remember my 9th birthday and it was only like 10 years ago. Okay, okay, maybe 20 years ago. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.