Dear day after a holiday weekend,
I was not delighted to wake up to you, day after a holiday weekend. Even if the holiday was the Fourth of July and even if I happen to be a grouch about that holiday, I was still sorry to see Monday come rolling around. Even if I am not teaching this summer, and thus every day is pretty much the same to me.
Because today, I had many appointments and places to be. Even if the appointments were all enjoyable. Still.
Okay, it wasn't that bad.
Actually, it was pretty much all good.
Day after a holiday weekend, never mind.
Dear beautiful new phlox,
The lady we bought you from said that in the mornings, you'd appear to be blue. And in the evening, purple, or even pink.
I thought, sure, plant lady, I think you're a little 'plant crazy.'
But this morning, as I pulled out of the garage and cast a careless glance at you, sure enough: blue.
This evening? pinkish purple.
Don't think I'm not going to document this tomorrow. You know: science.
Are you magic? I think you might be magic.
I wish I had bought more of you--
Dear hipster restaurant,
All of your dishes may have had slightly too precise descriptions on the menu, with all the ingredients listed, almost recipes instead of short descriptions. And your portrait of --was it Porter Rockwell? on the wall, along with the one of the dead pheasant and also maybe a crusty old revolver? A little too Mumford and Sons, perhaps. (I am not sure I used that adjective correctly.)
However: everything was delicious. Our server was a dream, and charming to boot. And we had a swell time.
Carry on, you mixologist gangsters--