Wednesday, August 26, 2009

The doctor is IN

Dear You,

I love letters. I love writing them, I love receiving them. In fact, I make a killer care package. If I knew you, and you were going away, you'd be damned lucky to have me send you packets of brilliance and heart. But I don't know you. Or do I? Wait, now I'm confused. Moving along...

I could go on and on, waxing poetic about how great letters are. But I won't. There are enough people singing the mighty letter's praises. But I will say this. I was absolutely tickled pink when I saw this video about a Cuban writer who makes a living writing love letters. That sounds like my dream job. Nay, it is my dream job. It's like writing song lyrics and fiction. Let me be the Cyrano de Bergerac in your lovelorn, tongue-tied world. Unrequited love? I'd be more than happy to provide the words to win over your beloved.

So that video got me thinking. Why not set up a love-letter-writing booth at my next craft show? For two bucks, I'll write a couple paragraphs about amour that you can send along to enchant and delight your babycakes. Plus, it'll be handwritten and on an actual piece of paper. None of this electronic love. Hell, I'll even put on some lipstick and seal the letter with an imprint of a kiss. Go big or go home, right? In this case to the home of your dearest.

If my letter booth fails to take off, there's always the Advice Booth. Take a number from "that round-headed kid" Charlie Brown and his psychiatrist Lucy van Pelt. Only with inflation nowadays, psychiatric advice costs more than 25 cents. You tell me your problems, I tell you how to solve your problems. Or at least what I really think.

I guess if all else fails, I'll have to fall back on crafts. I've been making these wooden greeting cards lately:

And some fuzzy pins:

And magnets:


P.S. This is not a shameless plug to go to zinedream II. I repeat, NOT a shameless plug.

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