Dear love bugs:
Thank you for pulling me from my hole in the library tonight to attend that raunchy thirty minute dance party. I enjoyed losing my brain for a half hour and dancing with trashy boys I'll never see again. Doing that every once in a while is good for the soul... in an uncouth sort of way. Sorry that I don't do that sexy dance thing. I am not, nor will I ever be sexy like you. This likely stems from the fact that you were both on dance teams in high school, and I wrote for the literary magazine... which... I guess, is sexy, too...
Thanks for not saying anything about the extremely uncoordinated, scatter-brained way in which I grocery shop, and for not commenting on my obsessive-compulsive hand washing, teeth brushing, and hair washing. OH. And super thanks for double tickle-back-turns in sacrament meeting. I just can't go an entire three hours without a few of those. So, thanks for not being church prudes, you guys. Also, my favorite part of the week is when we have races to see who can get their church clothes off the fastest. And I'm not sorry that I am the reigning champ.
I like the way you'd rather take a math test than write a paper because it compliments the way I that I wouldn't. You two are the left brain to my right, the butter & milk to my "match-and-cheese", and the "chocolate to my husband, Michael" (ha, ha, ha).
I'm in love with you pumpkin heads, and there's no one I'd rather finish this last little college chapter with. Here's to one last year of Basset-Ball, T-Money, and Alba-Turkey.
All my love,
E=MC2: Eternity=Mels, Cass, and Court. Togeth4evs.
In case you outsiders were wondering.