Dear Baby Finn: This picture made me think of you, and further convinced me that your name is awesome.
Dear Wildflower Cafe: When I ate you chopped salad with salmon, couscous, bell peppers, feta cheese, sunflower seeds and dried cranberries with pesto vinaigrette while sitting alone on your sunny patio, I felt like myself for the first time in a long time. I almost forgot I was pregnant.
Dear Midwife: You are great. But how come I only feel like a Hippy when I walk into your office? Or talk about homeschooling... or get excited about recycling and composting... or admit that I have backyard chickens..... dangit. I am a Hippy.
Dear E: I am so glad that you wash your hands after using the toilet. I just wish you wouldn't leave the hand towel in a soggy heap on the floor. Seriously, how did it get that wet? I don't even want to know.
Dear 80 Degree Weather: Please stick around. You are lovely and I'm not ready for triple digits.
Dear Sewing Machine: After sewing new pillows, repairing my drapes, putting tucks into E's pants and shorts so they'll fit his little waist, and altering all my winter maternity clothes to work for summer, I have to confess that you are my new best friend.
Dear Mom: Tonight when you're awake at 3am, try reading The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat. It's interesting enough to keep you engaged, but dry and clinical enough that it has the knack of making one nod off. Plus, it's fun to say the title. Excellent.