tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17666580921161009912024-03-14T00:48:58.665-07:00Thinking of YouJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.comBlogger140125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-44929604316760213722013-01-23T16:26:00.001-08:002013-01-23T16:26:31.914-08:00Dear Dr. George Church<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://www.ottawacitizen.com/health/Harvard+scientist+says+create+Neanderthal+baby+just+needs/7851560/story.html">Dear Dr. George Church,</a></div>
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I am a female who ovulates quite regularly (once a month, to be exact). As such, I feel like my uterus is probably a hospitable environment for a Neanderthal fetus. (I've always thought that if I were to ever give birth, I'd prefer my offspring to be furry in nature. I was originally thinking a puppy or kitten, but I guess science is neat, too.)</div>
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I am concerned about a "larger cranial size" exiting my birth canal, but I like a challenge. </div>
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Since it's probably illegal in Canada, can I give birth in an exotic locale?</div>
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Yours,</div>
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An Adventurous Female Human</div>
Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-29845168025589749102012-11-14T17:27:00.002-08:002012-11-14T17:28:12.506-08:00Dear J. Lockhart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-33676476790144047912012-01-07T15:50:00.000-08:002012-11-14T17:28:33.079-08:00Dear Lauren<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Dear Lauren,</div>
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I don't own a freshly birthed baby (no, really, I don't) but I suspect that sometimes it can get a bit tiring. So I've decided to add that "wow" factor to your day by mailing this very sexy and amazing nasal aspirator. (Oooh! Aaah!) I'm concerned about little Noah's potential inability to breathe and I love thinking/talking/writing about baby mucous. It's my favourite kind of mucous, in fact. (Although I'm really more of a blood and pus kind of gal.) Seriously though, I can't wait to meet Noah and awkwardly try to engage him in political discussion. (Babies like that, right?) Let me know when you're game for a visit.</div>
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XOXO</div>
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Thinking of you,</div>
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Jess</div>
Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-19729271767444669122011-12-13T10:09:00.000-08:002011-12-13T10:09:06.150-08:00Dear Coca-Cola<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NJ8bzDmdsBI/TueTmlvTIoI/AAAAAAAAFTc/dSYFuy6r8zo/s1600/IMG_0883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NJ8bzDmdsBI/TueTmlvTIoI/AAAAAAAAFTc/dSYFuy6r8zo/s400/IMG_0883.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dear Coca-Cola and WWF,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Would you be offended in a third-party aired an international advertisement with a glaring factual error about Coca-Cola? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Well, the polar bears are offended, too.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Being "born without a sense of sight" (ie-blind) is not the same as being born with your eyes closed. FACT. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">All these years, I've believed that drinking Coke is key to being happy, successful, athletic, sexy, smart and refreshed. Have you been lying this entire time?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thinking of you,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Jess</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-57059475054263762032011-11-21T14:18:00.000-08:002011-11-21T14:18:22.245-08:00Dear Stephenie Meyer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z43h7Vn4XFc/TsrMY2pm1zI/AAAAAAAAFS0/fMHlj_6olt4/s1600/IMG_0861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z43h7Vn4XFc/TsrMY2pm1zI/AAAAAAAAFS0/fMHlj_6olt4/s400/IMG_0861.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-apLu1nZqYHI/TsrMNGqw2_I/AAAAAAAAFSs/w-uote8CSUo/s1600/IMG_0862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-apLu1nZqYHI/TsrMNGqw2_I/AAAAAAAAFSs/w-uote8CSUo/s400/IMG_0862.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dear Stephenie,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have a pressing question for you--when Rosalie discovered that it was possible for a human and a vampire to conceive, instead of protecting Bella, why didn't she try to force a human male to impregnate her? I'm sure there'd be some vampire worshipping computer programming type that would have been all over that jazz. Rosalie could have popped one out, I'm sure of it. So, just wondering. (If you use this as a plot for future novels, I will require compensation. It's brilliant, I know.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thinking of you,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Jessica</div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-24057878400931318402011-11-16T07:36:00.000-08:002011-11-16T07:37:03.175-08:00Dear Netflix Canada<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oYqY-ODg8uU/TsPXs1NafoI/AAAAAAAAFSU/VxhVPUhGLNU/s1600/IMG_0859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oYqY-ODg8uU/TsPXs1NafoI/AAAAAAAAFSU/VxhVPUhGLNU/s400/IMG_0859.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dear Netflix,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thanks for making "because it's Tuesday night and our next best option is watching 'The New Guy' just for Zoey Deschanel" a legitimate excuse to watch Justin Beiber's "Never Say Never" in its entirety. Only Netflix's library could have driven us to these extremes and for that, I'm grateful. Watching grown women cry over a teenage boy is quality entertainment.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thinking of you,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Jess</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-7941103465135824692011-09-26T19:43:00.000-07:002011-09-26T19:43:48.044-07:00Dear Christian Hand<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bzb1WJ4FPUU/ToE3VdHzkPI/AAAAAAAAE74/6sXmXlaP-Hc/s1600/IMG_0485.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bzb1WJ4FPUU/ToE3VdHzkPI/AAAAAAAAE74/6sXmXlaP-Hc/s400/IMG_0485.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jUN3VimQXYU/ToE3aJqQNTI/AAAAAAAAE78/goceIELGbNM/s1600/IMG_0486.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jUN3VimQXYU/ToE3aJqQNTI/AAAAAAAAE78/goceIELGbNM/s400/IMG_0486.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dear Christian,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thank you for your excellent wine pouring skills. Your sense of humour, tact and ability to [over]pour was much appreciated and the highlight of a horrible tour that started with the bus failing to pick us up. I'm certain you know lots about grapes too, which is surely a lifesaving skill when faced with irate women.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thinking of you,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Jess</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">P.S. We got a refund!</div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-12821367031655366312011-09-06T12:48:00.000-07:002011-09-06T12:48:52.325-07:00Dear Kraft Canada<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JyRmAgi7nO0/TmZ4MgEH4TI/AAAAAAAAE5k/ywwbfKeE1es/s1600/IMG_0458.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JyRmAgi7nO0/TmZ4MgEH4TI/AAAAAAAAE5k/ywwbfKeE1es/s400/IMG_0458.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FwG6DCRtHhU/TmZ4N_JGonI/AAAAAAAAE5o/_uJUNUf-vK8/s1600/IMG_0459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FwG6DCRtHhU/TmZ4N_JGonI/AAAAAAAAE5o/_uJUNUf-vK8/s400/IMG_0459.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dear good people at Kraft Foods Canada,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I think you need to create a revised marketing campaigned devoted solely to pistachio flavoured Jell-o pudding. I cannot find it anywhere and my boyfriend says he's never had it before. PEOPLE SHOULDN'T BE DENIED PISTACHIO PUDDING! Please consider donating marketing dollars to this worthwhile cause.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thinking of you,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Jessica</div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-75250761694465462282011-08-04T11:13:00.001-07:002011-08-04T11:14:33.763-07:00Dear Wolfman Harvey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t_dLhgg6BNY/Tjg1cTlGK3I/AAAAAAAAE08/pwA4UrjER1g/s1600/IMG_0257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t_dLhgg6BNY/Tjg1cTlGK3I/AAAAAAAAE08/pwA4UrjER1g/s400/IMG_0257.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V0SoYinRCUM/Tjg1ePkUiaI/AAAAAAAAE1A/VK5bTqjddHk/s1600/IMG_0258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V0SoYinRCUM/Tjg1ePkUiaI/AAAAAAAAE1A/VK5bTqjddHk/s400/IMG_0258.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dear Wolfman Harvey,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thank you, as always, for providing exceptional customer service. And, of course, for having facial hair. It's always appreciated. (This postcard serves as an addition to your "beard tip.")</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yours,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">From Up North</div>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-2979130611132698042010-08-10T17:23:00.000-07:002010-08-10T17:24:18.111-07:00Here I Am.I'm <a href="http://prematurenostalgia.blogspot.com">over here</a>, too.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-87864604987996109542010-05-09T14:27:00.000-07:002010-05-15T14:29:02.318-07:00Dear Inder<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8R8Uwx-wI/AAAAAAAAEBM/0ag1fpENJwA/s1600/IMG_5500.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8R8Uwx-wI/AAAAAAAAEBM/0ag1fpENJwA/s400/IMG_5500.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471611800341576450" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8R7-3p6RI/AAAAAAAAEBE/xCDNJAh5hbo/s1600/IMG_5501.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8R7-3p6RI/AAAAAAAAEBE/xCDNJAh5hbo/s400/IMG_5501.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471611794464827666" border="0" /></a><br />Inder! How are you? It's been ages since I've heard from you, so I thought I'd drop you a line--and I also thought you were more important than to just write on your FB "wall." (Hence the postcard.) I'm still here, in Toronto. So very little to Report. Remember that one time I had a dream about you?<br /><br />Thinking of you,<br /><br />Jess L.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-3134478953872606952010-05-08T14:24:00.000-07:002010-05-15T14:27:02.795-07:00Dear Frank<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8RSauVvFI/AAAAAAAAEA8/7Bhn9Q4GkCc/s1600/IMG_5498.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8RSauVvFI/AAAAAAAAEA8/7Bhn9Q4GkCc/s400/IMG_5498.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471611080387443794" border="0" /></a><br />'<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8RSFwSExI/AAAAAAAAEA0/LOzLtnLuR14/s1600/IMG_5499.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8RSFwSExI/AAAAAAAAEA0/LOzLtnLuR14/s400/IMG_5499.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471611074758447890" border="0" /></a><br />Dear Frank,<br /><br />So, I made this New Year's Resolution to write a postcard every day, and writing to you has been one of my goals since day one. It's not even a matter of reconnecting, necessarily, it's just that I hate to leave things unsaid. Anyway, I always feel like I've owed you a huge apology for making things between us weird. (That's not to say that I regret falling for you--I just regret the way I acted afterwards.) You were an awesome friend to me for a long time (well, in terms of the total time I've been in TO) and I'm sure you have lots of good things coming your way.<br /><br />Thinking of you,<br /><br />-JessJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-24987350852337880072010-05-07T14:22:00.000-07:002010-05-15T14:24:39.823-07:00Dear Auntie Bev<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8Qyth6IAI/AAAAAAAAEAs/TX-shqJjBgs/s1600/IMG_5496.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8Qyth6IAI/AAAAAAAAEAs/TX-shqJjBgs/s400/IMG_5496.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471610535679762434" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8QyLn4POI/AAAAAAAAEAk/FdXL8r-NGaQ/s1600/IMG_5497.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8QyLn4POI/AAAAAAAAEAk/FdXL8r-NGaQ/s400/IMG_5497.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471610526577999074" border="0" /></a><br />Dear Auntie Bev,<br /><br />Happy Birthday! I'm sorry that I'm not there to celebrate it with you. Instead, I'll be in Montreal, visiting Chloe and probably purchasing shoes I can't afford. (Just because I'm soon to be jobless doesn't mean I should be shoeless, though, I suppose.) I'm really looking forward to coming home in August. (Jay will be coming with me.) Hope your bday was lovely!<br /><br />-XOXO JessJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-70409413390576982302010-05-06T14:20:00.000-07:002010-05-15T14:22:29.211-07:00Dear Kyle<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8QWgquq5I/AAAAAAAAEAc/68wlHkQNbwY/s1600/IMG_5494.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8QWgquq5I/AAAAAAAAEAc/68wlHkQNbwY/s400/IMG_5494.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471610051190762386" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8QVxGMD_I/AAAAAAAAEAU/Gnk5cEBH2Sw/s1600/IMG_5495.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-8QVxGMD_I/AAAAAAAAEAU/Gnk5cEBH2Sw/s400/IMG_5495.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471610038421032946" border="0" /></a><br />Dear Kyle,<br /><br />(I can't help but wonder if you got out of the Edmonton rut you were talking about in January '09 when you were here?) Happy Birthday! Did you know that, in exactly two ways, you save my life and sanity in June-July 2002? You deserve an excellent bday.<br /><br />Thinking of you,<br /><br />JessJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-35869215173695074932010-05-05T19:50:00.000-07:002010-05-11T19:52:36.224-07:00Dear Jenny B.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-oXplibYAI/AAAAAAAAEAM/pZMQnTjUOBc/s1600/IMG_5492.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-oXplibYAI/AAAAAAAAEAM/pZMQnTjUOBc/s400/IMG_5492.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470210700613476354" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-oXpQ8W0HI/AAAAAAAAEAE/PGg4ta4OYGM/s1600/IMG_5493.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-oXpQ8W0HI/AAAAAAAAEAE/PGg4ta4OYGM/s400/IMG_5493.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470210695085084786" border="0" /></a><br />Dear Jenny B!<br /><br />Although this card will reach you after the weekend, I think it's never to late to say Happy Mother's Day! I was thinking, the other day, about the time you took me to stay at your G-Ma's in Crane Lake. We watched Grease (I had never seen it before) and spent a lot of time running away from/harassing the pig.<br /><br />Afterward, I told Angela F. about it. She wrote back something that basically said, "Really? Why did Jen choose you?" Thanks for thinking I was cool enough!<br /><br />-JessJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-70130025650363051422010-05-04T19:47:00.000-07:002010-05-11T19:50:25.931-07:00Dear Tee Jay<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-oXHBFGA7I/AAAAAAAAD_8/Ws3XK2Dnlkc/s1600/IMG_5490.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-oXHBFGA7I/AAAAAAAAD_8/Ws3XK2Dnlkc/s400/IMG_5490.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470210106711212978" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-oXGVQRpYI/AAAAAAAAD_0/8knONa3xXK0/s1600/IMG_5491.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-oXGVQRpYI/AAAAAAAAD_0/8knONa3xXK0/s400/IMG_5491.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470210094946952578" border="0" /></a><br />Tee Jay,<br /><br />I'm making a bold move by responding to your Facebook message via postcard. That's just me--I'm all about bold moves. (Dance moves and otherwise.) Speaking of, did I tell you I'm planning on living out my dream of becoming Miss Universe Canada? It's the last year I can do it. 26 is the cut-off age--presumably because after that, my breasts are going to give up on life and sag to my bellybutton. So, look for me on TV. Also, I'll be in AB Aug. 11th -25th. Thinking of you!<br /><br />-JessJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-59254145619662539752010-05-03T16:38:00.000-07:002010-05-05T16:40:53.073-07:00Dear Jeff W.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IBr6AP6iI/AAAAAAAAD_s/iZY-PKrdLxQ/s1600/IMG_5488.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IBr6AP6iI/AAAAAAAAD_s/iZY-PKrdLxQ/s400/IMG_5488.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467934751397505570" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IBrbMerII/AAAAAAAAD_k/P1PaT8fh-Ho/s1600/IMG_5489.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IBrbMerII/AAAAAAAAD_k/P1PaT8fh-Ho/s400/IMG_5489.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467934743127305346" border="0" /></a><br />Dear Jeff,<br /><br />Years after you left Cold Lake, I babysat kids who lived in your house. And years before that, I vaguely recall sitting in a saucer chair in your house while being babysat by my brother's best friend's older brother. And somewhere in between, I remember saying goodbye to you, amidst packed boxes and preteen uncertainty. I'm still kind of sad you moved.<br /><br />Thinking of you,<br /><br />JessJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-29870705369160566922010-05-02T16:37:00.000-07:002010-05-05T16:38:51.576-07:00Dear McSweeney's<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IBV4tjfqI/AAAAAAAAD_c/cMW6WdrF7LU/s1600/IMG_5486.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IBV4tjfqI/AAAAAAAAD_c/cMW6WdrF7LU/s400/IMG_5486.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467934373093539490" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IBVEtH93I/AAAAAAAAD_U/qBoNLqrgvik/s1600/IMG_5487.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IBVEtH93I/AAAAAAAAD_U/qBoNLqrgvik/s400/IMG_5487.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467934359133091698" border="0" /></a><br />Dear McSweeney's,<br /><br />Your postcard set made my new year's resolution to send a postcard each day a heck of a lot more interesting. Thank you! Thinking of your (and smiling from the ocean's sweaty face),<br /><br />JessicaJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-10220373650851362652010-05-01T16:35:00.000-07:002010-05-05T16:37:19.949-07:00Dear Erin E.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IA3zNgaoI/AAAAAAAAD_M/ozhw5ux15e4/s1600/IMG_5484.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IA3zNgaoI/AAAAAAAAD_M/ozhw5ux15e4/s400/IMG_5484.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467933856220867202" border="0" /></a><br />o<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IA3sVGWrI/AAAAAAAAD_E/JOQlSTit8-I/s1600/IMG_5485.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IA3sVGWrI/AAAAAAAAD_E/JOQlSTit8-I/s400/IMG_5485.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467933854373665458" border="0" /></a><br />Dear Erin,<br /><br />I was thinking the other day about that one summer right before you moved (grade 5? Although, if memory serves me correctly, didn't you move in grade 6?) and I'd ride my bike to your house to play every night. I'd always be late, so I'd set my watch back on purpose so I had a white lie to tell my parents. What do kids with cell phones do these day?<br /><br />Thinking of you,<br /><br />Jess L.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-33423611883139917312010-04-30T16:32:00.000-07:002011-08-04T11:16:17.409-07:00Dear Hal Niedzviecki<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IAR0nwEqI/AAAAAAAAD-8/Rd8lxpV9Ww4/s1600/IMG_5482.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467933203764351650" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IAR0nwEqI/AAAAAAAAD-8/Rd8lxpV9Ww4/s400/IMG_5482.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IARV7vH-I/AAAAAAAAD-0/Lyv52avMF60/s1600/IMG_5483.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467933195526676450" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S-IARV7vH-I/AAAAAAAAD-0/Lyv52avMF60/s400/IMG_5483.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
Dear Hal,<br />
<br />
When I decided to write a postcard every day this year, I didn't think it would be much of a challenge--I have at least 365 friends, right? Well, I'm sending you, a dude I have never met, this postcard. Question answered? Truth is, it reminds me of your Facebook social experiments. And a such, thinking of you,<br />
<br />
JessJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-37658138469418995972010-04-29T16:44:00.000-07:002010-04-29T16:46:15.963-07:00Thinking of you too.Sending postcards is good for your self-esteem. Want proof?<br /><br />Check out the newly added <a href="http://deltiologicalstudies.blogspot.com/p/thinking-of-you-too.html">Mailbag.</a>Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-72641828098431752772010-04-29T08:14:00.001-07:002010-05-02T08:17:12.288-07:00Dear Adam W.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92XFoZKKKI/AAAAAAAAD-s/G5slkT8cm9s/s1600/IMG_5475.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92XFoZKKKI/AAAAAAAAD-s/G5slkT8cm9s/s400/IMG_5475.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466691645695731874" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92XEcH8XhI/AAAAAAAAD-k/5jZgWvxuGm8/s1600/IMG_5476.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92XEcH8XhI/AAAAAAAAD-k/5jZgWvxuGm8/s400/IMG_5476.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466691625222430226" border="0" /></a><br />Dear Adam,<br /><br />Since you were the first breakup I ever had, I figured you'd appreciate this analogy the most--quitting a job is just like dumping someone. You sit on the fence figuring, "Well, it might get better. It was good once." And after the initial relief of quitting, a sense of regret kicks in. Except with a job, no grand gesture will get them back.<br /><br />Thinking of you,<br /><br />Jess<br /><br />P.S. Hope your move went well.Jesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-35885934939524288262010-04-28T08:12:00.000-07:002010-05-02T08:14:54.530-07:00Dear Auntie Judi<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92WlmRPW-I/AAAAAAAAD-c/cuqAUGnz1Cg/s1600/IMG_5473.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92WlmRPW-I/AAAAAAAAD-c/cuqAUGnz1Cg/s400/IMG_5473.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466691095369833442" border="0" /></a><br />d<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92WlPhFEnI/AAAAAAAAD-U/8arI70GFeD8/s1600/IMG_5474.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92WlPhFEnI/AAAAAAAAD-U/8arI70GFeD8/s400/IMG_5474.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466691089262252658" border="0" /></a><br />Dear Auntie Judi,<br /><br />This postcard makes me think of your trip to Morocco. How is your spring going? I am excited to have some time off this summer--even if it means going on EI for a few weeks. I think I'm going to freelance write in the fall--might as well put that expensive undergraduate degree to use. Just wanted to let you know I was thinking of you!<br /><br />XOXO,<br /><br />JessJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-90349586180777003362010-04-27T08:09:00.001-07:002010-05-02T08:12:30.764-07:00Dear Katherine<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92V7lHk-zI/AAAAAAAAD-M/uKUYSIvGKSM/s1600/IMG_5471.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92V7lHk-zI/AAAAAAAAD-M/uKUYSIvGKSM/s400/IMG_5471.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466690373506366258" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92V6wWRKYI/AAAAAAAAD-E/oGrPYaifujU/s1600/IMG_5472.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92V6wWRKYI/AAAAAAAAD-E/oGrPYaifujU/s400/IMG_5472.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466690359340902786" border="0" /></a><br />Dear Katherine,<br /><br />Happy Birthday! I hope your day have been pleasurable. I'm so ridiculously excited for summer plans. I'm going to Montreal next month for May long weekend and Nova Scotia in July. Chloe and Mike both came down and stayed at my place a week ago--it was like 2003 all over again. We played Risk. (I lost.) Chloe taught me a new game, which we'll have to play out at the lake this summer. Did you get Skype yet?<br /><br />Miss you! XOXO<br /><br />JessJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1766658092116100991.post-89595803516099361102010-04-26T08:07:00.000-07:002010-05-02T08:09:43.628-07:00Dear Ian B.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92VYjo-snI/AAAAAAAAD98/JahvbVR_RTA/s1600/IMG_5469.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92VYjo-snI/AAAAAAAAD98/JahvbVR_RTA/s400/IMG_5469.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466689771814171250" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92VXmYFo-I/AAAAAAAAD90/vsHWywrDT3Q/s1600/IMG_5470.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UGc1He0oY6c/S92VXmYFo-I/AAAAAAAAD90/vsHWywrDT3Q/s400/IMG_5470.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466689755368760290" border="0" /></a><br />Dear Ian,<br /><br />Apart from all the amazing hugs you would give me, I also have this very distinct memory of sitting the K. Beach parking lot with you. It was one of those abnormally warm Alberta nights, and you gave me a note saying that if I ever needed a friend, you'd be there. And because I've never forgotten that, you've been here. Thinking of you!<br /><br />-JessicaJesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11452370386895889456noreply@blogger.com0