Friday's Letter

Dear Mr. Veen:  last night when I poked you @ 2:30a.m. to tell you it was time to get up for the Royal Wedding you didn't move.  I was impressed that you'd even pretended to be interested at all.  Dear too ripe bananas on my counter:  how many times do I have to buy you and watch you turn black to realize the people in this house do not seem to eat you?  Apparently baking banana bread is in my very near future.  Dear certain Hip Hop musicians:  why do you insist on ruining a perfectly decent song with a ridiculously trashy music video?  I was going to buy your music for my 10 year old son but now I refuse.  Annoying.  Dear Ella:  last night you crawled out of bed to join me on the couch just as princess Kate was walking down the aisle.  Call me a romantic but losing a few hours of sleep was a small price to pay for making that kind of memory.  And last to Mr. Veen:  want to go on a date tonight?