Letters for April 1: April

According to Mrs. Kennedy and the blog-savvy multitude, April is the NabloPoMo for writing letters. All of my April posts are supposed to be in letter form. Back in March, I thought to myself, "Cool!" I was determined to join the fun and allow myself a creative repose away from the stifling business that is my life. And now my reaction is "Damn-it!" I totally forgot.

So, I will now begin writing my posts in letter form and will continue to do this for the rest of April, my hand red from the slapping (for being so forgetful of something I want to do), my fingers and brain determined to play catch-up with the rest of you "on-the ball" April letter writers.

Here goes:

Dear Month of April,

Though I do believe your intentions are semi-noble, you have to know that the weather you invite is like an imposing boyfriend that all of your girlfriends can't stand, one who is constantly breaking the harmony of the day by sending constant text messages and warnings to you, interrupting a girls day out, whilst rudely consuming all of the food in your fridge since he wasn't invited to lunch and is now pissed - sure, it's the food that you can't have anyway because you might have gestational diabetes, but you get the idea. Seriously, there is absolutely no need to spin five freaking tornadoes across the Metroplex, especially in conjunction with straight line winds strong enough to do even more damage than the FIVE twisters. Waking up at three in the morning to sirens and, lets face it, what sounds like the premature guffaw of Armageddon, is neither fun nor awe-inspiring. It simply sucks. And is scary.

And it's not just about two nights ago, April. I remember several years ago when you were this showy and turned airplanes upside down so that they looked like dead birds, their little twig legs belly up. That was the time you made me take to the bottle and hide in the hallway in someone else's home, during which time you made me light a poor little dog on fire (Sorry Bitsy Boo - thank God you're resilient!). But whatever. You drove me to it, April. Or rather your nasty house guest did.

But then again, maybe your squallish friend comes over uninvited. In that case, I apologize for my harsh tone and would like to thank you for the gorgeous flowers and for the promise that sanity and stability, in true summer form, are on the way.

OK then. I have to go and get ready for the day. What should I wear? Something warm or something light?

Oh! (wagging my finger in your direction) You got me again, you tricky vamp!

Ginger