I believe in writing letters–not e-mails, not texts–but hand-written letters.
I believe in fine stationery.
I believe in a good “muddy” gel pen with ink that slides onto paper like butter.
I believe in asking “Are there any cuter stamps than this?” at the post office.
I believe in searching for the perfect address label.
I believe in decorating the envelope with colored pencils.
I believe in “extra postage required.”
I believe in teaching children to write a proper “Thank You.”
I believe in “Love,” over “Best Regards,”
I believe in Ink on My Fingers.
For delicious stationery, click here.
To splurge on fun stamps, click here.
For more on Self Portrait Challenge, click here.
Two old ladies we’ve never met were standing behind me gushing… I think she knew they were gushing about her.



This one’s for you, Emma. 
Instead of the “figure 8” route we usually take on our walks, we took the long route yesterday, visiting the back of our neighborhood and stopping at the lake to look for turtles. Latte only jumped out once to chase another dog. And, midway through our journey, I became entranced with a “porch” on a house. It had two big white wooden rocking chairs and a little table in between them, atop which rested a beautiful vase of pink tulips. I made Brett stop walking and look with me. “See that? That’s where I would sit with my sister and drink coffee.” Less enthused, he kept walking, but I had to stay for awhile, just standing there, looking at “my” porch. Oh, to have a porch.