To my Favorite Sneaks

To Pristine Converse Sneakers,


Unless you are brand new out of the box shoes- I am sorry your owner doesn't love you enough to actually use you the way you were meant to be used. That's the thing about sneakers... they get dirty, and worn, and scuffed up, and sometimes the canvas gets holes in it. Then you buy new ones. That's how the makers stay in business.

Of course there is a fashionable look about pure black and white, or whatever color combination you favor- but I believe in letting your shoes get scuffed. I look at my feet right now (cupcake converse) and see that I've had a lot of fun in these shoes. They've been to 3 states, 4 different jobs, half a dozen improv stages, and I don't even know how many museums. I actually wear my shoes.

Love,
Kate
(owner of lots of converse)

To a Day of the Week

Dear Wednesdays,

I want you to know that you are pretty cool. You are more than just a mid week milestone. You are a nice day, all by yourself. Who started calling you humpday? Huh? That has an overwhelmingly negative tone. Don't take that kind of garbage Wednesday! You are not just a 'hump' to get past. You are a nice day to enjoy.

Really, if we're going to be dirty, 'humpday' is a totally fab date night. What could be more refreshing than a middle-of-the-week drink with a friend? (I said drink, not plural, don't go crazy- it's only Wednesday.) So let's go with this new image Wednesday- out with the dumpy humpy blah-day, and in with the chic, two drink max date night!

Love,
Katie
(got wasted on a Wednesday once)

Thruway Driving

To the New York State Thruway,

I miss you, old friend. It's been too long since I've been able to cruise the open road from one end of the state to the other. Sure, I hop over to Rochester pretty often- but that hardly counts.

I don't miss you being under constant construction- but who am I kidding- that's part of who you are! Delays, speed traps, pot holes, and out of state drivers. Each little thing prolongs our time together.

I grew up riding from Long Island to Buffalo and back, watching NY outside my window, and it's no coincidence that a long fast drive with music blaring always calms me down.

With Love,
Kate
(what's the speed limit here?)

Carrot Cake

To Every Carrot Cake that isn't My Mother's Recipe,

I'm deeply sorry to say this so bluntly- you aren't as good as my mother's carrot cake. It isn't that you are a bad cake, but you are just not up to my standard. Having a slice of you is actually worse for my health than a slice of chocolate cake would be- because I almost always have to go home and bake a decent carrot cake for myself, and then eat it. Personally, I don't understand why so many so-called carrot cakes don't actually have carrots in them! Orange cream cheese frosting does not a carrot cake make. So I say this without being glib, The Carrot Cake is a Lie.

Sincerely,
Kate
(an avid cake eater)

To My Readers

To Whom It May Concern,

Thank you very kindly for visiting my blog. It means a good deal to me that you should happen to take the time to look over my little notes to the abyss. I use the word abyss to explain my notes considering the definition to be such: Abyss - anything that appears to be endless or immeasurably deep. Such are the nature of my letters. I have an endless or immeasurable number of people, places, things, objects, events, any-things that I can (and will) write to.

I've begun writing already- the old fashioned way with pen and paper. So it may appear that I have a good deal more interest at the start of this blog than I do as time goes on, but that is not the case. This is merely a coincidence that happens as I go through my scribbles and type them here for all of you to enjoy. (I do hope you enjoy.)

I would accept suggestions or requests. Or better yet, write a letter for yourself, and share it with me! I think that would be just lovely.

With Love,

Kate
(here goes nothing)