Dear Freud,

Nothing to look at here. Move on.

Dear opportunity,

I haven't heard you knocking at my door. Do you think I should come to you? Is this the right door? Will you open up for me? I thought your door would look a little more prosperous.

Dear vine weed in my backyard,

Thanks for not being poison ivy. (When you are scraping the bottom of the barrel for your gratitude journal.)

Dear men's chastity belt,

Inappropriate wedding gift?

Dear fence,

Official results of your performance review: Needs Improvement.

Dog-Wife:  Don't fence me in!

Fence-Husband: Uh, okay.

Dear Masterpiece Mystery,

You know that watching Rufus Sewell as Aurelio Zen is the closest I will ever get to watching porn, don't you?

I love that the series is set in Rome with all Italian characters, yet only one person speaks with an Italian accent. So very British Empire of you. You don't have to change just because you are in a foreign land.
(But who cares? Let's look at Rufus again in Armani.)

Dear boat,

Ah... do you remember the days of sailing the wide open green grass? When you dropped anchor in the mole hole? And sat under the sun and watched dogwalkers and lawnmowers drift by?

Dear overabundance,

Why the hell not?

Dear golfcart-riding dog,

You are awesome.

Dear chipmunk toy,

Yeah. I'm not a big fan of Rachel Ray's magazine either. You're an adult, Rach. Stop saying sammy and delish. Do you think it is someone's job on the magazine to search for the word good and replace it with yum-o? What a comedown for that Ivy League English Lit major.

Dear beach ladies,

Please tell me that you are sisters or best friends from childhood. And please share with me what you did in life to earn those solid ankles. Please tell me what you see on the empty beach as the sun sets.

Dear summer,

Try your hardest. Show off a little. Scare those who want to be scared. But know this: I WILL PREVAIL.

Best regards, winter

Dear dog,

Don't try to be what you're not. You aren't a lap dog. You don't fit in this bed. Admit it. Do we look as uncomfortable as she does when we try to fit our square selves into round holes? This is not a comfort zone. Can everyone else see it except us? When are we too big for our bed/company/town/life? Will we have the courage to admit it? Will we have the courage to do something about it?

Dear Italy,

How do you expect superpowers to take you seriously when you still have such precious cars on your streets? You keep pulling crap like this and people are going to believe that Frances Mayes is a lyrical author and not a patronizing snob. (No offense, Frances. I'm sure that you are a lovely woman when you aren't sneering at the simple country folk in Tuscany.)

Dear freezer,

Dear freezer, I'm sorry I didn't listen to all those rational voices in my head that told me NOT to put the soda in the freezer "just for a minute" to cool it down faster. Dear rational voices in my head, I'm sorry that I don't follow your advice more often.