I'm going to post my comments now. Some of them will overlap what's already been said, but so be it. Then I'll promote the comments from the other thread. 'K?
---Elly's letter. We had six police cruisers driving past the store on a regular basis - between our crowd (in their cloaks and pointy hats) and the bar patrons. It must have looked like Mardi Gras from a police perspective. Shouldn't that have been one sentence?
The old-fashioned streetlamps the city bought seemed silly at the time but they do look nice all lit up, Silly at what time? And of course they look nice lit up; that's what they're FOR. And here's a news flash: the world, let alone Milborough, does not need your opinion on EVERYTHING.
John's letter. It's unfortunate that Becky is choosing to off with stars in her eyes and will be missing the most important part of life: friendship. So, you can only wish her luck, knowing that if she does make it, she will likely not have a happy life.
That's a meme left over from the fifties, that it's lonely at the top and success does not bring happiness. Just something people told themselves so they'd feel better about not having talent or drive.
Being a professional musician is a difficult life.
If a person loves music, then that's a sacrifice they're willing to make. And it doesn't make their life an empty mockery.
Having a normal life, surrounded by friends and family and enjoying music as a hobby or as a passion is a lot more fun. That's an opinion from someone who gave up piano after the fourth lesson.
I rest my case.
Liz's letter. Honeyyyyyyy! Stop living in denial! It is NOT all in your head! It IS Howard! If the car is the same color and model as his, then it's a safe bet that it's his! And ANY car that drives past three times in ten minutes is something to worry about! I just hope that when she's on her chocolate quest, she doesn't keep saying, "Someone just ducked behind a bush...but it's probably not Howard."
And you're not ready for Anthony to settle down? Come again, please?
I suppose I can give her a mulligan on the three books a month, since she probably does have a lot going on, with the work she takes home and the crafts and so forth. Still, three a month...I can hardly fathom that.
April's letter. I really don't need to hear details about the Continental's kissing style, TYVM.
And for once I agree with her: Text messages, online chat, whatever. There's no fad or technology that is solely to blame for corruption. Elly just always needs something to rail against and absolve her of responsibility.
Mike's letter. I have been coming home late for the past month and crawling into bed with a sleeping woman. God forbid I should wake her up. It's not safe these days...and besides, she's right. Yeah, god forbid you should make any gesture that could be construed as foreplay. What's not safe, and what is she right about? Does that mean, she's claiming to be so super-fertile that if he touches her, she'll get knocked up again?
Meanwhile, I have a family who needs me, and I need them more than ever. Then, uh, why don't you stay home once in a while?
Oh, you and your imaginary lines. If I were the Kelpfroths, I'd be sending you imaginary pizzas you didn't order and signing you up for imaginary porn magazine subscriptions.
Again, we place our table, play pool and barbecue on "our side" Don't you mean, play IN THE pool?
Deanna's letter. There isn't much compounding to be done anymore, so it's mainly a case of dispensing the proper meds and, naturally, making sure that nothing interacts or causes a reaction. Or, you know, stops someone from getting pregnant when they can't afford it.
Still, proper execution of any advice is up to the customer. We always hope for the best. Uh...yeah.
Jim/Iris's letter. Nothing worth mentioning, except I was mildly surprised to find they've been watching Doctor Who. The way she led up to it, I was thinking The Avengers.
Pets' letter. I hate to say this, but I'm flirting with the idea of finding Shiimsa a friend from the shelter. I've got the hang of cat servitude now, and I wouldn't mind finding Miss Fuzzypants a playmate for the days when I'm at work. Just a thought... Oh no no nooooo! Two cats, then three, and next thing, you've got thirty-seven of them and you never go out! (No offense to any cat-owners reading this; I'm just saying, I can totally see Liz being the stereotypical spinster!)