Allow Me to Tell You How I Really Feel . . .Or Write it in a Letter

Dear NY Times Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe,

I have found you.  At last, after years of searching, we're united:  me, the crusader, and you, the Mecca of the classic cookie.  Bernice and I have tried a lot of recipes together, but few have brought me the joy that your sea salt-sprinkled goodness has.  Despite the fact that no one at any store (even the promised Whole Foods) knew what fèves were, my chosen combination of semi-sweet and milk chocolate chips were utterly dreamy.  I'm in love with a cookie and I don't care who knows it!

Love,

A woman with melted chocolate in the corners of her mouth, and an accompanying milk mustache

Dear  Skinny Chunky Monkey Cookies,

I hate to write this directly under a declaration of undying love.  It seems unfair to cast you in the shadow of such grandeur.  Even so, it must be said that you are disgusting.  Nasty.  You in no way live up to your Ben and Jerry's-esque name.  I felt such kinship when I read the blog post of your author.  When she proclaimed that she gained 65 pounds with her first pregnancy, I though, "Ah! A woman who knows her desserts!  I can trust her!"  Sadly, you were a flop.  So much so that we didn't even finish baking you.  Your batter sat on the counter.  I added a few spoonfuls of sugar.  Then an entire cup.  Nothing could be done.  A garbage disposal funeral was your fate.  Adieu!  I shall stick with smaller helpings of calorie-filled goodness in your place.

Sincerely,

A woman who prays her metabolism will never fail her

Dear Directions,

Why do you appear on some things and not on others?  Today, I read you clearly on the back of a bottle of hand soap.  Then, when inspecting canisters of dry shampoo in Target you were no where to be found.  I know how to lather and rinse my hands in the bathroom sink, but something about the idea of a shampoo that requires no shower slightly terrifies me.  Help a sister out!

Sincerely,

Confused

Dear Lady I Almost Collided With in Target,

I realize I almost hit you with my shopping cart, but I didn't.  Therefore, it would have been nice if you're, "It's OK," following my apology had been pronounced in a kinder tone.  Have I almost been rammed into by a psycho in Target before?  Yes.  And when she said, "I'm sorry," I pretended it was, indeed, OK.  At least pretend.  That is all.

Sincerely,

The woman who was trying to remove her sunglasses and feed her toddler goldfish crackers at the same time, instead of watching where she was going

Dear Elmo,

I love that Kaden pronounces your name Melmo.  He is infatuated with your "Emotion in the Ocean" song.  I know it by heart and frequently sing it, even when Kaden's not in the room.

Love,

Kaden's Mommy

Dear Hand Wash Only Label,

LIAR!  Equivocator!  Great deceiver!  For months you have lain in the bottom of my hamper.  Why?  Because I am too lazy to wash you.  Today, I carefully washed the skirt in which you abide, following your directions exactly.  Cold water?  Check.  Hand wash?  Check.  And what happens when I lay you flat to dry (also per your directions?) what was once a cream skirt with a black pattern is now a cream skirt with a bleeding black pattern.  If you wanted to be dry cleaned only, why didn't you just say so?  I wouldn't have held it against you, you just would have had to wait for a few more months in the bottom of the hamper.

Sadly,

Disappointed

My friend told me about this link-up, which prompted me to write letters this Friday, but as you know, this is one of my favorite kinds of posts to write on my blog.  I've been contemplating starting a second blog of daily letters.  What do you think?  Would anyone read it?