Dear Sawyer,
You are my last February love letter. Thank you for not buttoning your shirt all the way and for teaching Jin to be a smooth lover. You should have told Kate you were sorry. Wait, better idea: you should have taken off your shirt and told her you were sorry. But you know this. I enjoy our Wednesday nights. Stay dirty.
Love,
Tara
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Love Letter #19
Dear psycho lady from Hartford at the BU basketball game,
I do not generally encourage psychoness, but in your case I will make an exception. Not only was the game at which I saw you the most entertaining game of basketball I've ever attended, but it was the most entertaining postgame show I've ever witnessed. I have you to thank for this. You and your red sweater and frantic disposition. Your overzealousness and your general disregard for blood pressure rate or the well-being of those around you are to be admired--from the mezzanine, far, far away.
Remember when you got yelled at for going onto the court? What was up with that? Didn't that student worker know that you have a right to talk directly to the referee? I'm sure you told Coach Liebovitz, and Coach Gallagher, and Coach Gerlufsen, and Coach Broadnax all about it, and they rightly sympathized until you left them alone. That Coach Gallagher is a great hugger, isn't he? He sure looked like a good hugger--from the mezzanine, far, far away.
The ticket stub from this game may make it into my scrapbook.
Love,
Tara
I do not generally encourage psychoness, but in your case I will make an exception. Not only was the game at which I saw you the most entertaining game of basketball I've ever attended, but it was the most entertaining postgame show I've ever witnessed. I have you to thank for this. You and your red sweater and frantic disposition. Your overzealousness and your general disregard for blood pressure rate or the well-being of those around you are to be admired--from the mezzanine, far, far away.
Remember when you got yelled at for going onto the court? What was up with that? Didn't that student worker know that you have a right to talk directly to the referee? I'm sure you told Coach Liebovitz, and Coach Gallagher, and Coach Gerlufsen, and Coach Broadnax all about it, and they rightly sympathized until you left them alone. That Coach Gallagher is a great hugger, isn't he? He sure looked like a good hugger--from the mezzanine, far, far away.
The ticket stub from this game may make it into my scrapbook.
Love,
Tara
Love Letter #18
Dear NPR (especially Steve and Renee),
You know my feelings for you. Please don't ever leave me.
Love,
Tara
You know my feelings for you. Please don't ever leave me.
Love,
Tara
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Love Letter #17
Dear text messaging,
I know Jim Weed doesn't like you, but who cares. I like you enough for many, many people. When my prehusband* and I started dating, when he was working second shift, and staying up until three o'clock in the morning talking on the phone stopped being practical for me who works at seven o'clock, you were a key form of communication between he and I. You knew a half-hour lunch break was not long enough for two people falling in love, so you helped us out. It was all a grand conspiracy between you and God. You're lucky: it turns out I'm okay with this love thing.
And you're way less commital than most any other form of communication.
Jim will come around.
*The term prehusband was coined by co-worker; I can take no credit for its existence. Because it turns out, prehusbands are never really boyfriends, and the word is way less society pages than fiance.
I know Jim Weed doesn't like you, but who cares. I like you enough for many, many people. When my prehusband* and I started dating, when he was working second shift, and staying up until three o'clock in the morning talking on the phone stopped being practical for me who works at seven o'clock, you were a key form of communication between he and I. You knew a half-hour lunch break was not long enough for two people falling in love, so you helped us out. It was all a grand conspiracy between you and God. You're lucky: it turns out I'm okay with this love thing.
And you're way less commital than most any other form of communication.
Jim will come around.
*The term prehusband was coined by co-worker; I can take no credit for its existence. Because it turns out, prehusbands are never really boyfriends, and the word is way less society pages than fiance.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Love Letter #15
Dear Al Gore,
Congratulations on your Academy Award. I stayed up late in 2000 to watch you win the popular vote, and I stayed up late last night to watch you win an Oscar. I saw the movie back in October, and like a good nerd I even stayed after for discussion. And they had pizza. I love pizza.
You know, I can’t help but be proud. We go back many years, more than ten, to high school, when I was diligent secretary of the Student Environmental Awareness Society. You were a great source of information. I could always count on you for advice. Remember those days? When I was a polite everygirl just trying to get an A on my English paper and you and Bill were trying to build all those “bridges”? We were decidedly more moderate then. I just wanted everyone to like me, and, well, you wanted to be president one day. I voted for you.
You broke my heart January of my junior year of college when you decided to teach at the Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism that year. You couldn’t have waited until 2002 when I could have actually been a grad student at the school (because of course I would have been accepted, been able to afford it, and gotten into the class)? I would take a math class if you taught it, even though me + numbers ≠ love. Me + you (however) = a different story.
So enjoy this limelight and the good it is doing. You are smart and funny and I like you. Ignore the haters. But if you ever feel blue, bring Peyton and Drew over and we’ll all get drunk and weatherproof my apartment. And Al, I know you’re serial. Me too.
Love,
Tara
Congratulations on your Academy Award. I stayed up late in 2000 to watch you win the popular vote, and I stayed up late last night to watch you win an Oscar. I saw the movie back in October, and like a good nerd I even stayed after for discussion. And they had pizza. I love pizza.
You know, I can’t help but be proud. We go back many years, more than ten, to high school, when I was diligent secretary of the Student Environmental Awareness Society. You were a great source of information. I could always count on you for advice. Remember those days? When I was a polite everygirl just trying to get an A on my English paper and you and Bill were trying to build all those “bridges”? We were decidedly more moderate then. I just wanted everyone to like me, and, well, you wanted to be president one day. I voted for you.
You broke my heart January of my junior year of college when you decided to teach at the Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism that year. You couldn’t have waited until 2002 when I could have actually been a grad student at the school (because of course I would have been accepted, been able to afford it, and gotten into the class)? I would take a math class if you taught it, even though me + numbers ≠ love. Me + you (however) = a different story.
So enjoy this limelight and the good it is doing. You are smart and funny and I like you. Ignore the haters. But if you ever feel blue, bring Peyton and Drew over and we’ll all get drunk and weatherproof my apartment. And Al, I know you’re serial. Me too.
Love,
Tara
Friday, February 23, 2007
Love Letter #13
Dear Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, Eleventh Edition,
You are a daily source of knowledge to whom I appeal for help. A constant weekday companion, you help me set high standards of consistency and word use.Without you I would be lost. I sometimes wonder if I rely on you too much—I don’t always get the yellow-card questions right when playing Cranium, I inadvertently misuse words in conversation. I really missed you Sunday when reviewing the Missions Committee presentation and I couldn’t remember if day care was one word or two. Luckily, I relied on everything you’ve taught me so far (and on the advice of a fellow churchgoer) and correctly left it as two words. Many of your lessons I’ve committed to memory, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop needing you.
Love,
Tara
P.S. Coming in a computer program as well in this edition was a fabulous idea. Thank you for being so convenient and practical.
You are a daily source of knowledge to whom I appeal for help. A constant weekday companion, you help me set high standards of consistency and word use.Without you I would be lost. I sometimes wonder if I rely on you too much—I don’t always get the yellow-card questions right when playing Cranium, I inadvertently misuse words in conversation. I really missed you Sunday when reviewing the Missions Committee presentation and I couldn’t remember if day care was one word or two. Luckily, I relied on everything you’ve taught me so far (and on the advice of a fellow churchgoer) and correctly left it as two words. Many of your lessons I’ve committed to memory, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop needing you.
Love,
Tara
P.S. Coming in a computer program as well in this edition was a fabulous idea. Thank you for being so convenient and practical.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Love Letter #12
Dear pink sweater,
I know we just met, but I feel bold enough to tell you that I'm very happy we found each other. You are giving and warm, and we are a perfect match. This week I've worn you twice--but I don't care; this kind of love knows no shame. You bring out the best in me. I hope I never outgrow you.
Love,
Tara
I know we just met, but I feel bold enough to tell you that I'm very happy we found each other. You are giving and warm, and we are a perfect match. This week I've worn you twice--but I don't care; this kind of love knows no shame. You bring out the best in me. I hope I never outgrow you.
Love,
Tara
Monday, February 19, 2007
Love Letter #11
Dear irony,
I think you know by now how I feel about you. Your presence in my life only enriches it. Many times you are sad, but often sadness is what makes something beautiful. So I forgive/appreciate you for it. But many times you are funny, like that time when you made Sara trip over the "Caution Wet Floor" sign, or when you cancelled the attempt at making the record for most snow angels because there was too much snow.
I try to acknowledge every instance of you in my life. At times I miss you (because you have to be so subtle sometimes!). I'm sorry how misused you are. I promise to try to treat you well.
Love,
Tara
I think you know by now how I feel about you. Your presence in my life only enriches it. Many times you are sad, but often sadness is what makes something beautiful. So I forgive/appreciate you for it. But many times you are funny, like that time when you made Sara trip over the "Caution Wet Floor" sign, or when you cancelled the attempt at making the record for most snow angels because there was too much snow.
I try to acknowledge every instance of you in my life. At times I miss you (because you have to be so subtle sometimes!). I'm sorry how misused you are. I promise to try to treat you well.
Love,
Tara
Friday, February 16, 2007
Love Letter #10
Dear Methodists,
I like you. You care about some really dumb things sometimes, but you also care about some pretty important things. I wish you weren't so in love with the status quo, and you invoke Jesus' name far too often when it's really Paul you worship. But I still like you.
Most people hear the words "organized religion" and freak out--with good reason. I like to focus on the adjective: organized. (Unfortunately, such organization has hurt many many people for no good reason; but such organization can help many many people for very good reasons.) Religion is a human creation anyway. Aren't you striving for something more? When I'm around you I can feel you wanting to be more than just a well-behaved supporter of social manners and of keeping the church chairs looking pretty.
Except, you're often too polite and too scared to talk about what's really important, let alone act on it. Toes recover from being stepped on. Comfort can be regained after change. And you are far too concerned with what you deserve to have because of your goodness. But I join with you in organization because we are humans and flawed and I because I know you and I can do better. I promise to remind you of this if you remind me.
Love,
Tara
I like you. You care about some really dumb things sometimes, but you also care about some pretty important things. I wish you weren't so in love with the status quo, and you invoke Jesus' name far too often when it's really Paul you worship. But I still like you.
Most people hear the words "organized religion" and freak out--with good reason. I like to focus on the adjective: organized. (Unfortunately, such organization has hurt many many people for no good reason; but such organization can help many many people for very good reasons.) Religion is a human creation anyway. Aren't you striving for something more? When I'm around you I can feel you wanting to be more than just a well-behaved supporter of social manners and of keeping the church chairs looking pretty.
Except, you're often too polite and too scared to talk about what's really important, let alone act on it. Toes recover from being stepped on. Comfort can be regained after change. And you are far too concerned with what you deserve to have because of your goodness. But I join with you in organization because we are humans and flawed and I because I know you and I can do better. I promise to remind you of this if you remind me.
Love,
Tara
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Love Letter #9
Dear Brian,
Happy birthday. Your picture is the only one I circled and wrote "hot" next to in my sixth grade yearbook. Then we met in high school. Then the pedestal was built. And as it turns out, "three down" wasn't just a threat after all. We were funny. The Cowboys suck.
Love,
Tara
Happy birthday. Your picture is the only one I circled and wrote "hot" next to in my sixth grade yearbook. Then we met in high school. Then the pedestal was built. And as it turns out, "three down" wasn't just a threat after all. We were funny. The Cowboys suck.
Love,
Tara
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Love Letter #8
Dear Drew Bledsoe,
Happy birthday. I miss you. Don't listen to what people say--you are a way better quarterback than they are. You can come back to Buffalo anytime. And it's okay if you want to take off your shirt. If you ever need a hug, you know where to find me.
Love,
Tara
Happy birthday. I miss you. Don't listen to what people say--you are a way better quarterback than they are. You can come back to Buffalo anytime. And it's okay if you want to take off your shirt. If you ever need a hug, you know where to find me.
Love,
Tara
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Love Letter #7
Dear Post-its,
You are practical and wonderful. You are always there when I need you. You are versatile and giving and are so capable of adapting to any situation for which a person may need you: a flag on a page in a Chicago Manual of Style, a beautiful decoration on a computer monitor reminding one to put the new Figure 24.1 in the pharamaceuticals book, an alert to a typesetter that the mysterious brown stain on the corner of a page is coffee, just coffee. Your many colors make life more exciting. You even come in recycled form now, living many lives and sharing with us the stories of your goodness. Someday I will figure out how to properly thank you, but for now, this love letter will have to do.
Love,
Tara
You are practical and wonderful. You are always there when I need you. You are versatile and giving and are so capable of adapting to any situation for which a person may need you: a flag on a page in a Chicago Manual of Style, a beautiful decoration on a computer monitor reminding one to put the new Figure 24.1 in the pharamaceuticals book, an alert to a typesetter that the mysterious brown stain on the corner of a page is coffee, just coffee. Your many colors make life more exciting. You even come in recycled form now, living many lives and sharing with us the stories of your goodness. Someday I will figure out how to properly thank you, but for now, this love letter will have to do.
Love,
Tara
Friday, February 09, 2007
Love Letter #6
Dear Ray Tomlinson,
Thank you for making my life easier. I can’t, nor do I want to try to, imagine my life without you. Perhaps someone else would have invented e-mail had you decided to become a shoemaker or veterinarian, but you didn’t, and they didn’t, and so it’s to you I give my appreciation.
Because of you, professionally:
• I no longer have a callus on my middle finger caused by a purple pencil.
• I receive far fewer paper cuts—it’s now a monthly instead of weekly (or daily) occurrence. I am very happy about this; I hate paper cuts.
• I can e-mail edited pages to an author, saving (1) time, (2) effort, (3) money, (4) paper/trees, (5) burning of fossil fuels, and (6) trying to decipher author/editor handwriting.
• I do not have to use the phone for instant communication. I am very happy about this too; I gesticulate when I talk and often lack a filter—writing is a much more successful form of communication for me.
• I can be articulate and organized, and cultivate and maintain professional and friendly relationships with the people whose books I edit.
Because of you, personally:
• I can talk to many people at once. This greatly helps my many causes, and makes inviting people to parties much easier.
• I can catch faraway (and not-so-faraway) friends up on my life or send a low-commitment hello when I’m busy and can’t invest in a phone call. I’m not very good at keeping in touch, but I’m a great e-mailer.
• Friends can tell me about funny videos and interesting news articles I would have otherwise never encountered, and my life would be sadder.
So when people complain about spam and forwards and viruses, remember that no amount of this bad stuff will stop me from singing the praises of your invention. People get so upset because they rely so much on e-mail and treat it as if it is a necessity, available since the Garden of Eden, a natural entity human beings would die without, when really it is a luxury, a beautiful, beautiful luxury. Thank you for making my life more luxurious.
Love,
Tara
Thank you for making my life easier. I can’t, nor do I want to try to, imagine my life without you. Perhaps someone else would have invented e-mail had you decided to become a shoemaker or veterinarian, but you didn’t, and they didn’t, and so it’s to you I give my appreciation.
Because of you, professionally:
• I no longer have a callus on my middle finger caused by a purple pencil.
• I receive far fewer paper cuts—it’s now a monthly instead of weekly (or daily) occurrence. I am very happy about this; I hate paper cuts.
• I can e-mail edited pages to an author, saving (1) time, (2) effort, (3) money, (4) paper/trees, (5) burning of fossil fuels, and (6) trying to decipher author/editor handwriting.
• I do not have to use the phone for instant communication. I am very happy about this too; I gesticulate when I talk and often lack a filter—writing is a much more successful form of communication for me.
• I can be articulate and organized, and cultivate and maintain professional and friendly relationships with the people whose books I edit.
Because of you, personally:
• I can talk to many people at once. This greatly helps my many causes, and makes inviting people to parties much easier.
• I can catch faraway (and not-so-faraway) friends up on my life or send a low-commitment hello when I’m busy and can’t invest in a phone call. I’m not very good at keeping in touch, but I’m a great e-mailer.
• Friends can tell me about funny videos and interesting news articles I would have otherwise never encountered, and my life would be sadder.
So when people complain about spam and forwards and viruses, remember that no amount of this bad stuff will stop me from singing the praises of your invention. People get so upset because they rely so much on e-mail and treat it as if it is a necessity, available since the Garden of Eden, a natural entity human beings would die without, when really it is a luxury, a beautiful, beautiful luxury. Thank you for making my life more luxurious.
Love,
Tara
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Love Letter #5
Dear summer,
I miss you. Life is colder when you aren’t around. I miss your touch on my cheek, the light you bring into my life. I’m sorry that I didn’t spend much time with you last time you were in town; I was busy. Please forgive me. This year I plan on giving you the attention and appreciation you deserve. The promise of your return gets me through the bitterest days. Please hurry back. I love you.
Love,
Tara
I miss you. Life is colder when you aren’t around. I miss your touch on my cheek, the light you bring into my life. I’m sorry that I didn’t spend much time with you last time you were in town; I was busy. Please forgive me. This year I plan on giving you the attention and appreciation you deserve. The promise of your return gets me through the bitterest days. Please hurry back. I love you.
Love,
Tara
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Love Letter #4.
This letter is different.
It wasn't written by me.
I've had some really great people as friends in my life, and this letter is from one of them. I was a junior in high school when I received it that September. I've kept it in my "important papers" envelope in the glove compartment of my car since then.
Tara,
Hey! I don't know what to say to you about Jason. But he is a good guy. Everybody makes mistakes, and the way he has gone through with this is a mistake. I don't know what to say because I really don't know how Jason feels. I think he did want to go out with you but he didn't build up to asking. Maybe he thought you didn't like him that way. I'm not sure though. I know if I were Jason I would have asked you out already. From the friendship we have I can definitely say you are a smart, attractive young woman. Don't get too sad about this. I know how you feel because it's happened to me. Just try to keep together and be strong.
Love,
Bob
P.S. Are you going to Austin's tonight? Please go and hang out with me.
See what I mean?
It wasn't written by me.
I've had some really great people as friends in my life, and this letter is from one of them. I was a junior in high school when I received it that September. I've kept it in my "important papers" envelope in the glove compartment of my car since then.
Tara,
Hey! I don't know what to say to you about Jason. But he is a good guy. Everybody makes mistakes, and the way he has gone through with this is a mistake. I don't know what to say because I really don't know how Jason feels. I think he did want to go out with you but he didn't build up to asking. Maybe he thought you didn't like him that way. I'm not sure though. I know if I were Jason I would have asked you out already. From the friendship we have I can definitely say you are a smart, attractive young woman. Don't get too sad about this. I know how you feel because it's happened to me. Just try to keep together and be strong.
Love,
Bob
P.S. Are you going to Austin's tonight? Please go and hang out with me.
See what I mean?
Monday, February 05, 2007
Love Letter #3
Dear Peyton Manning,
Thank you for winning last night. Many people are going to not like you now. It always happens to the darlings. But I like you. So go host SNL and make more funny commercials. I will watch and laugh.
Love,
Tara
Thank you for winning last night. Many people are going to not like you now. It always happens to the darlings. But I like you. So go host SNL and make more funny commercials. I will watch and laugh.
Love,
Tara
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Love Letter #2.
Dear Gordy's,
Thank you for making us chicken wings last night. Stacy and I had fun watching TNT and talking about cell phones while we waited. We got up to our friend's house right as the hockey game started. Ottawa lost in overtime by one point in a shootout, but it's okay. We got to see Patrick and eat wings and abbreviate STD names and pause Regis Philbin's face. Your hot wings are my favorite. We will be visiting again next Friday before Matt's play.
Love,
Tara
Thank you for making us chicken wings last night. Stacy and I had fun watching TNT and talking about cell phones while we waited. We got up to our friend's house right as the hockey game started. Ottawa lost in overtime by one point in a shootout, but it's okay. We got to see Patrick and eat wings and abbreviate STD names and pause Regis Philbin's face. Your hot wings are my favorite. We will be visiting again next Friday before Matt's play.
Love,
Tara
Friday, February 02, 2007
Love Letter #1.
Dear Washington State,
Thank you for your apples. They are my favorite. Can you please use biofuel when you transport your apples so that I do not have to feel so guilty when I walk right by the New York apples to buy Granny Smith? I would really appreciate it. And thank you for Drew Bledsoe.
Love,
Tara
Thank you for your apples. They are my favorite. Can you please use biofuel when you transport your apples so that I do not have to feel so guilty when I walk right by the New York apples to buy Granny Smith? I would really appreciate it. And thank you for Drew Bledsoe.
Love,
Tara
Can we get through February?
Since February is the month of love, and I don't care if Hallmark, Hershey, and FTD declared it so (what a horrible conspiracy to make people think about love), every entry this month is going to be a love letter.
(What is unfortunate about Valentine's Day is that it is so focused on romantic-relationship love...and perhaps guilt and consumerism. [I wonder if gay men and women can get two boy or two girl Hallmark kissy bears. Maybe I'll try it and see. But I digress.] But love comes in many forms, and even if Valentine's Day started because a future saint was marrying Christians even though it was illegal, it should be a day to celebrate everyone you love. [The sororities at my school did--my on-campus job was at the post office and Valentine's Day was the most busy because of their sisterly love. Never. Ending. Little. Valentines. On the plus side, we got to eat the candy that had fallen off of the valentines. But I digress.] Or in my case, I'm going to make the whole month of February one to celebrate love. At least in this blog.)
I'm not going to be angry or sarcastic.
I'm not sure if you know how hard this will be for me.
So watch lovey dovey movies.
Eat heart-shaped pizza from New York Pizzeria.
Send your grandma a Valentine's day card.
Call February 14 VD because it's funny.
And try not to barf at happy couples; they'll probably share their chocolate with you.
(What is unfortunate about Valentine's Day is that it is so focused on romantic-relationship love...and perhaps guilt and consumerism. [I wonder if gay men and women can get two boy or two girl Hallmark kissy bears. Maybe I'll try it and see. But I digress.] But love comes in many forms, and even if Valentine's Day started because a future saint was marrying Christians even though it was illegal, it should be a day to celebrate everyone you love. [The sororities at my school did--my on-campus job was at the post office and Valentine's Day was the most busy because of their sisterly love. Never. Ending. Little. Valentines. On the plus side, we got to eat the candy that had fallen off of the valentines. But I digress.] Or in my case, I'm going to make the whole month of February one to celebrate love. At least in this blog.)
I'm not going to be angry or sarcastic.
I'm not sure if you know how hard this will be for me.
So watch lovey dovey movies.
Eat heart-shaped pizza from New York Pizzeria.
Send your grandma a Valentine's day card.
Call February 14 VD because it's funny.
And try not to barf at happy couples; they'll probably share their chocolate with you.
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