Dear Baron Julian Fellowes,

That's it. I'm done. Through. Over.

I know I said this at the end of last season, but for real, I mean it this time. To keep my letters spoiler-free, I'll refrain from saying any more, but after that headlining episode mid-season, I wondered if the only reason I stayed tuned might be because I had friends coming over to watch it every week.

Now, after what you've done tonight, I have to tell you the shaky ground we've been on all season has officially crumbled beneath our feet. There's no turning back. And if I weren't so tired, I could say this with fewer clichés. Not that you seem to mind them, yourself.

Nice job with the artsy landscape shots of the Highlands. I will say that. But not Rose nor Sybbie nor the miracle of Mary's 25-inch waistline at 8 months gestation will draw me in next January.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear 48 Hour Film Project,

It has killed me the past two years to not participate in the weekend of crazy, sleepless, creative, ridiculous movie-making. It's not too late this summer, though. If I wish very hard, maybe I'll meet someone at New Job who can wield a camera and knows the ways of post-production software. Until then, please continue to be kind to the team I left behind me on the East Coast, even if (or maybe because) they don't have me as their screenwriter and script supervisor anymore. It has killed me not to participate, but maybe it's the best thing for them!

Hugs & kisses,
B