Dear Universe,

The art of letter writing is dead (apparently).  I enjoy writing letters, remembering a time long ago before cell phones and blackberries and the confusion that is Twitter kept us in constant contact (though, for some reason, every time I write a letter it sits on my desk for ages, waiting for the proper postage.  I never seem to have a stamp).  To fill this ever-growing letter writing void (and avoid the stamp-dilemma), I've begun composing little letters aloud, scribing them upon the air. Little letters like this, written just this afternoon:

Dear Anne Bogart,

Why in god's name is your book $30?  It's like 50 pages long.  OY.

Love,

Ashleigh

Or these, from last week:

Dear Joshua Jackson,

You make me giggle, especially when remembering the Dawson's days.  

Thanks ever so much for that.

Love,

Ashleigh

Dear Japanese Website From Which I Illegally Watch Television Shows Due to My Lack of TV,

Your streaming capabilities are subpar.  You should fix that.  I have important things to watch and your videos pausing while a woman is birthing an alien baby is inconvenient.

Love,

Ashleigh

Try writing little letters yourself sometime and sending them out into the universe, your voice providing the necessary postage.  Not only will it make you feel as though you've stepped right out of a Dicken's story, you'll also be helping the environment by not using paper.  Everybody wins.