My New Vintage Typewriter

is nonexistent, because I made the disappointingly practical decision that neither my bank account nor my parent's house wanted to deal with another ebay lovechild at the moment.

But then my sweet blog– my firstborn/giving tree/Ryan Gosling incarnate– stepped up and was all, Hey girl. It's okay that you don't live in the 1950s. Why don't you just put on some Sam Cooke and I'll be your typewriter?

Thanks, blog. You are just so thoughtful like that. 

[Sorry it took me so long to redesign you.]

This is now me being super old-fashioned, sporting kitten heels and red lipstick which does me no favors, typing a nice letter to you. Being nice is my new year's resolution– which means this letter will be filled with tasty granola recipes and heartwarming tales from the life of Oscar Pistorius instead of sarcasm and gossip. 

(So if I showed you something that is as funny as it is ignorantly offensive within the last few months, be grateful that you got to see it when you had the chance. Because I have to stop telling people about it. And probably reading it as well, because is wrong for me to mock the author so.)

The perk of living in the 21st century is that laptops happen to have a zillion different fonts. So I think I will still plink out some old-fashioned letters, upon request. This Harry Potter font I found will be the best thing that ever happened to you, because it contains broomsticks and lightning bolts and such.

You're probably assuming that my sudden interest in letter-writing is no more than an attempt to fill up my karma bank, so that when I head to temple prison the MTC in a few months to start preaching the gospel in a language I don't speak, you will feel guilty and obligated to send me a kind note of encouragement. What? Mehh that kind of sounds like a stretch. But great idea. Your words, not mine.

Love and Happy 1913,
Lauren