Pretty Mail

If you were anything like me as a kid, you would have had at least ten pen-pals over the years and lost just about as many through neglect, forgetting to send the letters your wrote, or just getting bored of the duty of writing back. As we learned to use the computer and the internet got more advanced and we learned how to type, writing letters dropped away almost completely. But you know me. I'm stubborn as anything and won't entirely let go of things I love. And I dearly love giving and receiving snail-mail. I have this passion for outwitting the post office. Doesn't that sound terrible? But seriously. I just weigh packages in my hand, slap stamps on, and stuff them in the mailbox. They always get to their destinations. Recently, I sent a copy of my book to a friend in Romania. I put five or six stamps on it, shoved it in the mail, and a week and a half later, it was in her hands. Now, if I'd gone into the post office and asked them what they wanted to charge me, that package would have cost something terribly like fifteen bucks.

All post-office regulations aside, sending and receiving mail the good old way will never go out of style. Who doesn't like getting a piece of mail? And furthermore, who doesn't like getting a piece of mail that is as much a delight to look at as it will be to read? Since I have three or four letters to respond to this weekend, I spent a little while on Pinterest last night browsing unique ways to address letters. Here are some of my favorites. May they serve as inspiration to you to send a surprise someone's way. <3

Thanks, Gents

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Dear Gentlemen,
      When you hear the word 'gentlemen', you probably shrink inside, thinking we expect you to be some huge Titan of gallantry or the archetype of good manners. Maybe we do appreciate that in a man, but today I just wanted to thank you. Some people think the race of gentlemen has died off. I can't agree entirely, because you are here. I wonder if you realize how much you effect me and many another girl just by being considerate, amiable, and genuine. Not all men are gentlemen, but when we women meet one, we know him for what he is immediately.
     Did you know we were that keen? Well, we are.
     I feel that good things cannot be commended enough, and fine men deserve as much recognition as the rakish fools who take up so much space in the news without having done anything worthy. So here's your little space of glory: here I want to tell you the things that you do right, and (coming from me), the things you do that make girls breathe again and think, 'There are real men in the world after all.' This is a letter for the gentlemen I know, and their kindred whom I have not had the blessing of meeting. These are the things you do (and are) that make me smile:

      I love when you laugh. I love when you make me laugh.

      I love your friendship--you don't know what a treasure it is, knowing young men who are actually interested in appreciating my soul, not what I can give them in exchange for a little attention.

      I love looking across a room when someone says something funny, and reading mutual hilarity in your eyes, and then laughing about it with you later.

      I love your sensibleness, and the way you guide conversations into useful courses that a girl might never have thought of, were we discussing the same topics.

      I love your useless bits of information that expand my intellect in ways I'd never looked for. (cannibal forks, anyone?)

      I love it when you open a door for me--I realize you know I could do it myself and I am thankful you do it anyway, just out of kindness. You're not being a Chauvinist, whatever people might say.

      I love it when you take time to talk to me and ask questions, like you really want to know what I think.

      I love it when you remember little things we discussed a long time ago and bring them back up when I least expect it.

      I love it when you have good handwriting.

      I love it when you offer to accompany me on errands I've been asked to run.

      I love it when you have massive pools of talent, but I have to find out from someone else (or personal observation) because you don't talk up your good points to impress me.

      I love when you've read the same books I have, or new ones that you make me read.

      I love when you disagree with me and make a good case for your side of a question.

      I love when you quote Shakespeare, or my favorite movies. (or Cabin Pressure. ;)

      I love when you admire plain women, because I know you're seeing the important side of them.
   
      I love it when you obviously have taken care with your appearance.
   
      I love it when you seem to have forgotten you are looking very sharp.

      I love it when you make little kids laugh, and laugh with them.

      I love it when you ask if you can dip me when we dance.

      I love it when you give a genuine compliment with no hint of flattery inside.

  These are only some of the things I see in you, my dear gentlemen. And perhaps the thing I am most blessed by is that moment that comes along periodically where you remind me of My Man--the man I probably have not met yet, but whom I can see will be one of you. So thanks, gentlemen. You really don't get enough notice from the world in general--I didn't want to stay silent when you're such a huge part of how I can remain a lady myself.

All of my best,
        Your sister,
                      Rachel Heffington
         
     

{Desperata} an urgent missive

I knew it was too good to last. At present I share the sentiments of the fox who, after escaping from one horrible trap, falls in another ten feet distant that the crafty hunter thought to set for him. The pain of the injury is not the worst part. Nay, it is far out-shined by the sensation of humiliation in having to face this foe again.

Of what do I speak, my friends?

Let me wind you a tale of woe which, as the poet says, "holdeth the children from play and the old men from the fireside."

I am thought of by many as a clever woman...handy with words and fluent in literature. A woman of refined tastes who enjoys music, art, theatre, language, people, and many another genteel thing. I am thought to hold certain old-fashioned sentiments as relates to the countryside, romance, and dreams. I am known as a woman who loves travel and history, sophistication and the cosmopolitan side of life. I am thought of in this light and there is a deal of truth and reality in it. But what no one could ever accuse me of is the bare idea of being clever on the practical side of the brain. No one would think to accuse me of it because the possibility is laughable.

Logic, while shining as a beacon I could never attain, is not my forte.

I am lost when discussing strategy.

Debate and social studies, economics and many another thing are equally out of my grasp.

But nothing towers over these looming Unattainables like that nefarious creature, Mathematics. Oh how many years I was a slave to him, breaking to his will because I could not bend to it. Serving him at arm's length and tossing my pencil aside as soon as the last flourish of the final answer was finished. He was not much pleased with my service, for I was more often than not erroneous in my computations. But as every educated human must, I served this master for twelve years--yea, and beyond!

 The day of my graduation was a day of rejoicing among the nations. Even in that foreign camp of Arithmetic there was a measure of jubilation, for even my difficult master could not help but be relieved at the loss of such a pupil.

I lived for one short, giddy year of bliss under the delusion that I'd marry a good man, a clever man, who could teach arithmetic to my children. He would fill in where I could not. That I was, in short, finished with Mathematics for good and could spend the remainder of my days devoting my mental capacity to my chosen and beloved creative pursuits. But I erased from my memory a dark cloud suggestive of another meeting with my task-master. Surely, thought I, we shall avoid each others presence forevermore. What more can he want from me? I have paid my dues.
But it was not to be. My master had grown fond of me in his cruel fashion and demanded an interview. My courage quailed under what he proposed, wavered, and fell to his cold, flint-edged will, persuaded by my mother that it would be Good For Me.

A moment of weakness, though with my mother pressing on one side and my father {a sworn friend of Mathematics and Practicality} on the other, I had little choice in the matter. Even the companion of my bedroom, my dear sister, has defected to the side of Mathematics. She is predisposed to find his lessons easy, if not pleasant. He masquerades this band of villainy under the title "Stewardship Math"....I can only cross my arms and glare at this sad turn of events and hope my slavery will not smack of Algebraic equations.

This is the end of the long, sad tale. I have given my hand to Mathematics for a brief course in which he shall have his way with me. His capricious, practical, terrible way. There is nothing for it. He has convinced Mama that there are certain blanks in my education that only a rendezvous can fill. He has already entrenched my father in on his side. I am a doomed creature.

It is a relief that I do not believe in omens. Did I-- and were my mother right in saying perhaps I shall need my master's lessons in days to come--the prophesy for my marriage is not bright. For it appears that if I am in need of these further lessons as taught by Mathematics, my husband will be, among other things, a mawkish dolt who thinks of and delights in nothing but profit and loss, interest rates and credit cards, sporting scores and home repairs.

Heaven save me from such a fate if such things be true!

            With trembling fingers I sign this missive,

                                                                Desperata

(known to most of my acquaintance as Rachel: an unfortunate female of the non-logician variety)

{Dear World} In defense of sunset-watching

Hello everyone! This is a post I wrote up for Two's Company {the blog I share with Sarah} and I thought some of you might enjoy reading it, so I copied it here for you. Enjoy.

 
Dear, Darling,World,
     Tonight I took time to lay aside my broom in the middle of evening chores and watch the sunset. A simple thing, but one that might tell a lot about a person if you'd only listen.
It is a maxim of mine never to grow too busy to watch a sunset. You see, a person who is too busy to watch a sunset now and then is to busy to live, and if one is too busy to live, then one had much better die. It sounds harsh, yes, but if you'd only bear with me a moment longer you might understand...

What do we rush through life for but to get to the end and look back with a sigh of relief? Then it is the end you are rushing after, so go ahead and rush toward it if you will. I'm afraid I take a rather Peter-Pan-ian view of this life:
Of course I want to be in Heaven with Jesus, but I am not one of those cardboard people who think this world is rotten through and through with nothing to enjoy. Heaven will be marvelous, I know. Far better than anything I've imagined it out to be. If I knew what perfection is I'm sure I'd die here and now from sheer longing to be there. But how can one be quite certain that there will be sunsets? One cannot be certain of anything on that account because there won't need to be a sun with God's glory shining. Now wouldn't it be a shame to get to Heaven only to realize that you'd missed all the sunsets on earth? Heaven will undoubtedly have things far more beautiful than a sunset, but think of the benefits of taking a bit of time to lay aside your broom! What a longer life it might give you, just because you watched a sunset. Think of it in a logical manner:

1. You lay aside your broom, therefore you add a moment of leisure to your life that might never have existed.

2. You step out onto the porch and your skin soaks in the last rays of vitamin D while you heart and soul are fed by this beauty of the Lord's making. Right there, one has ministered to all three parts of one's body.

3. You let your mind wander a little which improves brain capacity and intelligence.

4. You watch this sunset with your senses alive to the beauty of the world--the colors flooding the sky, the sound of the frogs and crickets, the feel of the cool air against your skin. Thus your awareness of your five senses will be heightened and your dinner will taste better

5. You go back inside and you are in a happier mood.

6. You finish sweeping and probably do a much better job because now that it comes to it, you can see all those spots you missed.

7. You live your life this way, stepping outside to watch sunsets. Once you get to Heaven you see there might not be any sunsets, but there is something infinitely better--you are slightly prepared for the glory by absorbing beauty in little doses.

8. You are twice the winner--you tasted heaven on earth, and you'll recognize earth in Heaven.

So you see, watching the sunsets will extend your life, make you healthy, wealthy, and wise, and all around improve you in every manner. How the philosophers would laugh at my reasoning, but I say Let Them. I guarantee that I'll be the happier by the end of this life while they argued that I was the one in error. :)

Love Everly,

                  Rachel

Revelation--my thoughts on this Battle-cry

In a recent letter from a friend of mine, she asked what my thoughts on the book of Revelation were. As always, my pen was ready and I found my thoughts tumbled out rather neatly onto the page. That being said, I thought, "Why not touch on a such a heavy-hitting subject on the blog and get it done in one fell swoop?" :D Yes, I'm a bit of a rabble-rouser. I like to discuss controversial things. ;)

So, dear friends of mine, here was my reply. I thought you might like to read it.

"You ask if I have any thoughts on the book of Revelation? In general (being a confirmed and long-time optimist) I find it a book full of singular foretellings--dark and shadow-filled as they are--that are chained about with triumphant, blood-red promises of eternity. Revelation is a warring book; a sword book, but a hopeful one.
Perhaps I somewhat belong to that group of Christians who skim through it because we do not understand, but really, I skim through the book with the eye of a determined reader. I know the happily ever after and I love to read it so, I pay little heed to the Apollyons by the wayside.
I cannot pretend to understand most of the book--there are so many conclusions one could draw. I often think that the Lord doesn't mean for us to know and understand all till we do reach the Beginning of forever. but I do see--through all the devils and brimstone, through all the plagues and pestilence--my same Lord Jesus. Only now He is seated on a white horse with His secret name written on His breast and He is a King again--triumphant, powerful, majestic.
I am not one who worries about the end times. Why should I fear when it is certain that the same Lord who keeps me now shall keep me then?
I am not a great theologian. I am not a woman gifted in logic. Perhaps I make a hash of both in my simplicity. But too often I believe we Christians make the same error as the French patriots in the Revolution. We exalt the Goddess, Reason, and shamble out our logic and "theology," tangling things that Jesus meant to be simple and childlike.
To quote a great man of the faith: "One thing I know: I am a great sinner and He is a great Savior."
So what good would circular discussions of pre, post, and mid-tribulation rapture be? His word prevails all through and He has promised me that He will not allow my foot to be moved.
That is all, and that is enough for me.
So sorry for my rambling. Doubtless I gave you far more than you asked for. And do know that I think Bible-study and theologic discussion very worthwhile and important things, so long as we do not forget with Whom our allegiance lays, and all He has promised us."

So, what are your thoughts? Any comments? Ideas? Additives? ;)

Letter-Writing: What to do, what not to do, and everything in between.

Letter-writing is a topic upon which I have many and varied opinions. First and foremost is my idea that it ought to come back into fashion. One reads an email far too fast and one can't save a phone-call.
Second is my idea that a letter constitutes an epistle of at least two pages. Anything smaller is a note or a message. :) But the third and perhaps the most important opinion of mine is that letter-writing is a talent. By that, I mean it is something that cannot be done in a trice. It takes practice, thought, and care and is worth more than many people would care to admit. A charming letter is a treasure and something that bears spending nearly 50 cents on when postage is so dear these days. I make it a point never to send something under the banner of a stamp if it will disgrace the very name of the Post Office. ; )

So how do you write a smashing letter?

As a woman who has rather a hefty correspondence, I think I'm fitted to share a bit of my experience with you. First off, I collect correspondents as Mr. J. Preston Peters of Something Fresh collects Egyptian Scarabs. I'm kidding, of course, but I do love running through my mental file of People I Write To and seeing addresses ranging from across town to across the world inside. :) Letter-writing is so much fun, I wish people would take it up a bit more! So here are my tips:

1. "Buy a black coat". Er. Pen. You can use gel-pens if you'd like, but the pen that I love best of all runs smoothly, is full of black ink (not too too gel-y) and fits your hand nicely. Believe it or not, my favorite pens are the generic Papermate pens you buy by the dozen at any Walmart. You mightn't realize it at first, but a scratchy, spitting pen is the worst menace to the art of letter-writing. You simply can't think when your pen is sputtering and protesting.

2. Use any paper on hand. This contradicts many people's idea of letter-writing etiquette, but I will say it again. Use any paper on hand. If you wait for the extra money to buy nice stationary it may never come. If you wait till you have the energy to fight your ennui and rummage up your best paper from a box in the depths of your closet, you'll be procrastinating. Of course if you are fortunate enough to own reams of letter-writing paper, more power to you! :D Often my letter comes appareled in a cute note-card (homemade or bought) and notebook paper. Believe me when I say that the best part of a letter is what is inside.

3. Let your mind wander. Everyone's mind is unique and different. Therefore the train of your thought may bear little to no resemblance to the person's who will get your letter. They'll love seeing all your little thoughts. Write swiftly and freely. Write the first things that come to mind. There is nothing worse than a stilted, premeditated letter that sounds about as natural as Mr. Collins' compliments.

4. Ask Questions. There's nothing wrong with wanting to Know, you Know. ;) And by asking questions I want to state clearly that I do not mean inquiring as to your friends favorite color, favorite animal, favorite food, and favorite movies. There mayn't be anything wrong with those questions,  but they are excessively fluffy and middle-school in nature and even though they might be necessary at first, I know you have imagination enough to rummage up more curiosity than that.

5. Doodle. Do. One of my finest letter-writing friends (Felicity Deverell from New Zealand! :) fills her pages with sketches of the room, the view outside the window, things that have happened recently, etc. Even if you aren't a gifted artist I'm sure you can manage a pretty flower or a funny, impish face. My Uncle Lon writes to us now and then and he draws the ugliest, most precious little faces on the letters. An Uncle Lon letter just wouldn't be the same without that strange little man doodled on the edge. :D

6. Try your hand at description. Too often an epoch in a friend's life, or the fair they just attended, or the sight they just saw is given no more than a passing mention in a letter. You don't have to hang gaudy, golden baubles on your words, but try to give your friend a picture of what you saw. I know I revel in every detail of Felicity's letters because she lives practically in a different world than I do! I never tire of reading about the banana palms and rugged cliffs, the sailing adventures and the native people.

7. Try to be original. Think of the person your letter is meant for--do they live nearby? Then don't go describing the weather--chances are they had the same rain as you, only an hour earlier. But if, on the other hand, your friend (like Felicity) lives half-way across the world, the smallest details will be greatly appreciated. I've gotten so much laughter ought of discussing accents, stereotypes, culture, and history with Felicity through our letters. :)

8. Pay heed to their letter. If you are replying to a letter, be sure to reference what the friend spoke of in their missive. Answer the questions that were asked, (referencing the question too--I know I sometimes forget what I asked a person. :D) and ask more yourself. I know I already said that in Tip #4, but it's really important. You know you hate getting to the end of a letter and finding you've both said all that needs to be said.

9. Use neat handwriting. Really,  this is more important than you'd think. You don't want your friend's experience of your letter to being telegraphic: "Dear...how are...having a ...time...I went to...Park today and saw a great big....it was so neat!" Without fail the sloppy hand-writers obscure the most important parts of their messages. :D

10. Be Unexpected. Try packaging up your letter a different way: Send your message in a soda-bottle, or make a funny-shaped envelope. The post office sends most packages, provided they aren't too outlandish or too tiny. Or you can tuck something inside the letter like a pressed flower of a bookmark or a necklace you've made--really, anything!

"It is my opinion that a person who can write a long letter with ease cannot write ill." -Jane Austen

Hilarious Mail... :)

 

"It is my opinion that a person who can write a long letter with ease cannot write ill."

                -Jane Austen

My pupils may cause me great secret amusement with their definitions, spelling, and their answers to reading comprehension, but there's certainly nothing wrong with their imaginations! These letters came to me after I assigned Leah and Anna to write a charming letter from one character to another that had to be at least 2 pages long. I am  rather proud of them. Enjoy! :) (All spelling, grammar, and punctuation as the original)

Leah's Letter: Comprised of a plethora of commas, hyperboles, and a cold heart

Dearest Adelaide,
     How are you this glorious day? Has your cold bettered? As I write to you, I am siting in the Duke of Shamphires seat, and at his most equisite desk. The Duke's drawing room has just recently been decorated, and in the latest French style. Now, you may wonder, how on earth I came here, and I shall tell you.
I have recently made an aquaintence with his daughter. She is the sweetest creature I have ever beheld. She has a slight temper when she is riled. But beyond that there is no seeable fault with her. I am having a wonderful time in the country. We have attended 5 balls, 3 dances & 6 feasts in one week. Though I must admit, I was disappointed in their lack of propriety. What should I expect from country people?
But the Duke's "palace" brings a awed presence in that part of the Shampshire. When people enter the palace, of the most important people of the land, they seem to know they are in the presence of someone higher than they.
Anyway, dearest, you must tell me what have you been doing of late? I'm dying ot hear all the latest town gossip. Has Gertrude married that Italian yet? Has Jenny been to see you lately?
Oh! I wanted to tell you of this young man I met at the Himlet's ball. He was from France, doing a favor to his uncle. He had dark brown hair, with a head of curls, and 2 curls that must have escaped the comb that morning, and were standing impishly out of place. His manner was charming, but I could sense a sort of conceit about him. I must do him credit and mention that he was very gentlemanly and honored me by dancing with me twice. (Well, at least he thought he honored me,) but actually it was quite the opposite. I detested dancing with him, because I saw a man, who I liked much better, and he was moving toward me, and right then "he" had to ask me, and of course I couldn't turn him down.
How I long for you. I do wish you were here. Of course you caught cold right before the day we were going to go with Amelia's family. Well, at least I'm here to do the things here, so I can tell you on my return home.
Oh! Speaking of Amelia's family, they are staying here, at the Duke's house, as well. Amelia's been out almost every night we have been here, with a fellow by the name of William Ruxeby. I like him well enough, it is obvious she likes him too!
You should be proud of me, I have read a book of William Wordsworth's poems today. You are always wanting me to read more, so to oblige you, while you are ill, I did. And I have started one of Dicken's books as well, "Mansfield Park", I believe. Oh, Dear me! I mis-said the author's name. Jane Austen wrote, "Mansfield Park" Charles Dickens wrote a great many other grand books.
That's another things, the libraries here, are superb. There are 2 downstairs, and 2 above the stairs.
As I look about me, hanging on the walls, are portraits of 1 and twenty men and women. It is funny, because you can tell who had the cheery disposition, and who hadn't.
The ones in lighter colors were smiling, the ones in dark colors looked concerned.
Well dearest, the clock chimes 3:00.
               Yours Truly,
                          Mary Ann Willshod

Anna's Letter: Characterized in chief by quick, slashing handwriting, abundantly missplaced commas, and creative spellings. :)

Dearest Jane,
       It was good to receive a letter from you! I can only hope your visit in London has been as you had anticipated. I do wonder though, if you have yet visited Miss Bingley? She and Mr. Bingley have been in London for several weeks now I believe. My stay at Aunt and Uncle's home has been....quite pleasant, although at times I feel lonly and ready to return to Longbourn. I think Father misses me, but who can blame him wholly, for staying with Mamma and Mary and Kitty, I'm sure can get on one's nerves. Have you heard from Charlotte recently? I am going to come and see, her, when I get a chance. I do hope she is doing well. It worries me when dear friends don't write or come to call after they marry and settle. Maybe she is busy with visits to Lady Cathrine Debourg! Oh Dear Jane, almost everyday I think of Lydia, and Mr. Wickom. Poor Lydia, how could she expose herself, and her family, to such gossip and run away with Mr. Wickom. But it is not so unexspected from Lydia.
Jane, I think we both should try our best to comfort Mamma, and try to cheer up Father, because Lydia really didn't think about Father, or Mamma when she ran away. Please write as soon as you, can, althouhg I"m sure London keeps you constantly on your toes! Oh! and if you hear from Charlotte, please write to me and tell me. But I would hope she would write to me, before she would you, seeing as we are good friends!
                  Love,
                    Lizzie