Dear palate, this weekend you had a test run with my experiments with couscous. You enjoyed the sun dried tomatoes (I bought ages ago and only used twice) and were proud of my culinary whims! Dear chickfila, you are delicious. And you give me the gnarliest heartburn I have ever had so our relationship is currently purely professional. Here's praying I can eat you again without my throat feeling as if I swallowed acid. Dear Harry (Connick Jr.), Frank (Sinatra) and Michael (Buble), yalls voices are Christmas inspirations. Thank you gentlemen! Dear Spanish 455 paper, you are still but a swirl of ideas in my brain, but you will get done and be full of intelligent musings on Hispanic female authors and their contrasting themes in poems and short stories. I sound smart already! Dear Jesus, I am ever growing, ever learning, and ever needing to press into You. Keep teaching me about faith over feelings. Love ya.
p.s. did you believe in Santa Clause when you were little? This has been quite the heated topic in The Shire (my apartment).
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