Dear Every Happy Pop Song Ever,

You suddenly all make sense.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Feminine Wiles,

You've been entirely absent most of my life, and I got kind of used to it. Yes, I wanted to think there would be a day I might be attractive, but in reality, never able to imagine a time you'd ever be on, I built up no strategy for turning you off. But it seems I need to learn.

First, it was my one true love on State Street. Last week, it was the man (Bingo, he called himself) on the bus who offered me a seat. On his lap.

And today, it was on my way out of the library. I got a (and I quote), "Damn, girl, you are fine," complete with some kind of wolf whistle. Thank the Lord it's day light in the evenings now.

The thing is, now that you apparently exist, suddenly, after the awkwardness of my teenage years and beyond, I don't know how to handle this type of thing. From behind my eyes, I'm still the acne-speckled, overweight, unstylish girl with split ends, and it's hard to believe that these forthright displays of attraction aren't some kind of joke.

And really, even if that wasn't the case, I'm pretty sure it's uncomfortable for everyone to be wolf-whistled and lap-offered. So while I appreciate the fact you finally decided to exist, you need to chill out when I'm around creepers, okay? Because that's not cool.

Feel free to crank it up, however, around non creepers. That I don't object to.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Guitars,

I love you so utterly deeply that it's almost embarrassing. Last night, listening to one of your brethren in the expert hands of my string-strumming friend, I was transported.

Life, for a short time, seemed incomprehensibly good.

As Shakespeare once wrote, how is it that sheep's guts can hail the souls from men's bodies? And while I know that my friend's guitar is strung with steel, the sentiment is the same. He plucked, and he strummed, and he played his fingers across the frets, and I was truly happy.

You are a gift straight from God, and I am so thankful for friends who can play you well.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Madison,

Where else can I:

• make friends on the bus home from work?
• walk past the poshest restaurant in town, look in the window, and find one of the chefs (my next door neighbor) waving at me delightedly?
• spend the weekend biking, sailing, picking up my CSA, and attending a food and music festival downtown?
• fill my bike tires with a gratis air pump and fix-it station set up along the bike path by the city?
• always—always—get a smile on my face when I enter downtown because it's always just the right place to be?

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Monona,

Thank you for being located so close to my laundromat. With a bike, I can zip over to your gently lapping shores while my clothes wash and dry, and I can enjoy the relaxing undulation of the floating dock, rising and falling like some large (stiff) creature breathing. What could be more pleasant than an hour of hard working laundry so pleasantly passed gazing over the water's surface, changing with each breeze like a fickle child. This is life: the smell of lake slime on the distant rack of canoes, the sound of ducks honking as they pass the time of day, the feel of sun on my neck and weathered dock wood on my legs.

And then a great blue heron glides across my vision, its overlong legs and neck so awkward, but its wings so graceful as it just skims the lake surface on the downbeat, crossing to land on the opposite shore.

It has been four months since I arrived here with a moving truck full of hope, and yet I remain in daily disbelief that this place is really my home.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Landlord, Landlady, God, and Timing,

Thank you so much for deciding to let me stay here. I didn't want to sound petulant and childish, but the idea of moving this fall—for the fifth time in six years—made me want to cry. It, in fact, did make me cry. Especially after seeing some of the apartments available elsewhere in the city within this price range, I couldn't bear the idea of leaving my garret, this neighborhood, or your family. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Hugs & kisses,
B