...since last I blogged. Now it is almost July, and for some strange reason I have not had to go to work in over five days. However, this vacation must soon end, for today is my dear Latte's last day and I shall be taking up her work hours. And then I will be working all the time. But this is okay by me, since I am poverty-stricken and incapable of rubbing two pennies together.
But this is not my musing for today. My musing for today is the art of letter writing. For this morning (a strangely not humid, temperate day for a Baltimore perching on the edge of July) I received a letter from one of my closest school friends. And might I say how absolutely beautiful her letters are. Where do people get the skill to write so gracefully? Thoughts flowed perfectly together. There were no non-sequitors polluting her thoughts like my letters are so wont to do. Her letters are absolutely lyrical. The stuff of well-written fiction. Only they are real. And I am so jealous. Because my thoughts are scatterbrained and slightly ludicrous, reminiscent of a slightly ADD seven year old. I skip merrily through thoughts, jotting down whatever comes to mind with no heed for structure or relevance. I often write my letters in the wee hours of the morning, when I am too tired to think straight but am unable to sleep.
And then I receive masterpieces, worthy of placement in a Jane Austen novel in return and I feel horribly inadequate. So this is one of my many goals for the summer. I will learn how to write a good letter. No more of my jumbled childish thoughts that reek of misplaced humor and sarcasm. I aspire to be as good as my friend.
And eventually, I may succeed. One can only hope.
Ta, Bagels.
