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Love Note

Dear Air Conditioning,

I love you. I love everything about you. I love the way you greet me after a long day. You hold me close and never let me go. I love the way I miss you the entire way home. As I drip sweat in an overcrowded subway car. As I hip bump elderly tourists and wayward homeless wanderers. I think of you and smile. I love the way I walk in the door and you are there to greet me. To envelop me in your comforting embrace. I love the way you cloak me in your essence and calm and soothe me.

I love you in my office. I love you in my bed. I love you in the hardware store. And I love you in assorted sidewalk cafes. Doors propped open, you slither out and tease me, inviting me to stop for a drink and a rest. The fact of the matter is, I love you. You complete me. I honestly cannot live without you. I know I should be able to cut you out of my life. Open a window and sweat it out. But I simply can’t. My very existence relies on you and my happiness rests on your shoulders.

You carry me. You are my everything. You allow me to work in peace, to sleep the night in contentment. You make me feel safe and free. You empower me to do the best I can do. I know there are purists out there that would likely deny me my love, but they have never felt the heat I have and do not understand my premature menopause. So therefore I feel free to love you unconditionally and invite you to be a permanent part of my day to day existence. In heat and humidity, in assorted winter warm spells, and in moist fall days. I look forward to our continued happiness and an eternity of cool dry nights.

All of my love,

Marissa

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Suburban Delight

I am a twenty five year old girl, well I guess at this point I could be considered a woman, but anyway not the point. So I know I am supposed to be interested in things such as sample sales, bottle service, and the South Beach diet, but alas everyone is a little different so clearly I barely know what these things are and had to Wikipedia them in order to figure out I should be interested in them. The truth is as much as I love New York City and all of the fabulousness it offers, my deepest love and passion is actualized in suburban lands and the pastimes of those that are middle versus quarter aged.

As a matter of fact I am merely biding my time until the blessed day that society deems it socially acceptable for me to move back the suburbs to live happily ever after with or without hubby. For the time being I will distract myself with the late night conveniences and global cuisine that NYC offers. I will ride along in precarious subway cars shuttling me from gallery openings to roof top soirees and trundle along with the upper echelon and street wanderers until my time comes. Until I can wear my pastel dresses and aprons on a daily basis without feeling like I need to find my edge. Where I can tend to my garden and frequent farmer’s markets and design seasonal menus. Where I can finally achieve my dream of procuring a minivan of my very own!

The fact of the matter is I love taking it slow. I love bicycling along coastal towns and day tripping to orchards and wineries. I love picnicking and hosting dinner parties and obviously everything that involves eating. I have been pot lucking since College and dreaming of book clubbing for years. I love driving in cars and grocery stores that can fit more than 10 people. I love space and beaches and air that smells like salt and flowers versus the somewhat charming aroma of sewage and sour milk. I love porches and pitchers of lemonade. I love yard sales, car washes, and roadside stands that sell produce or bouquets of wildflowers.

Don’t get me wrong; I do adore NYC, which is fortunate since my suburban life truly will not be feasible for at least 7-10 years. And during that time I am sure I will continue to enjoy all of the modern conveniences ad urban grittiness that New York provides. It’s just that I know that at the end of my rambling venture throughout this concrete labyrinth, I will blissfully migrate to a more pastoral setting, where I will don a sweater set, hop in my minivan, and live happily ever after.