Dear Mohegan Sun,

Thank you for providing me with endless entertainment of Saturday night. From the VIP section in your club to the raspberry mojitios to the Bobby Flay sighting to the endless people watching, you expertly delivered. Please tell your security, however, that when they see a girl walking without her shoes at 2 a.m. there is probably a very good reason. Like, her feet are throbbing and three more steps in her heels will result in a scene from Psycho. Remind them that she will not “step on anything wet” like she was told and she’s just fine thankyouverymuch.

Yours in weekend exhaustion,



Dear October,

You are sneaking up on me very fast, my friend. Don’t worry, I’m on to you. The rehearsal dinner invitations are just awaiting stamps so don’t think you can trick me by hiding around the corner. Three and a half weeks is plenty of time. Pleeeenty of time. (Gulps. Wipes brows.) Plenty.

Datebook in hand,



Dear wedding guests that never mailed your RSVP,

Chasing after you has been a blast. Seriously, totally cool. I had nothing better to do anyway. Oh, you sent the RSVP? It must have been lost in the mail? Umm hmm. I tried to make it easy for you, I really did. But I guess a stamped self-addressed envelope isn’t easy enough. So since you’re not using it, can I have the stamps back? They’re cute and I have some bills to pay.

Short on patience and postage,



Dear Rain,

Go away. Enough is enough. My hair frizzes, you know. And I can’t buy any super cute wellies for another month so taunting me with the dream of them is just plain mean. Plus, you make the dog smell and I’m tired of him thinking it’s funny to shake off in front of me. It’s not.

Under my umbrella (ella, ella),