How it started

I didn’t talk much in kindergarten class, but I found methods to get my point across. When other kids were rude to me or just plain annoying, I would wait until they left their desk and sneakily write a note on the corner of their paper as revenge.

“You spelled that wrong.” “Bad job.” “This is just dumb.” Eventually my teacher called my mom in to talk about it. “I haven’t seen her do it, but I know Cara is the culprit because she’s the only one in the class who can spell all these words right.”

Guilty.

That was the beginning. All through school, I passed notes obsessively. I filled notebooks at home with all sorts of stories and venting sessions. They could make a museum out of all the notes I passed.

In fact, I still have most of them in a TOMS shoe box stuffed in my closet. (Sometimes I read them to feel grossed out about how immature I was.) But after I finished college, I just kind of stopped.

A blog is born

Even though I was no longer passing paper notes, I was still writing little letters in my head. I wrote one to the baby alpaca who nuzzled my neck with what I can only describe as an ALPACA KISS and then proceeded to gaze into the depths of my soul with immense kindness.

I wrote a less-cute one to the security guard at the Greyhound station who was fiercely determined to share his chicken-crossed-the-road joke with me.

I finally decided to actually write them—the letters to everything. But this time I would do so with modern technology rather than the archaic parchment of yore.

That’s why I started this blog that probably nobody will read. I cover topics that I love, with deep thoughts on some things and not-so-deep thoughts on others.

But who am I?

If you’re reading this blog and don’t already know me, please don’t troll me. I will also tell you that I’m an exceedingly tall person who is married to a fellow tall named Miles. Someday we plan to populate the Earth with huge children who will join the NBA and buy us a beach house with their riches.

For now, we’re raising our goldendoodle, Dobby (yes, he is named after the noble house-elf), to be a good dog, but he struggles with irrational eating habits and general common sense. We love him dearly.

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I own more animal shirts than is humanly necessary, and I feel happiest outside in the sunshine far away from cars and buildings and screens. Chocolate chip cookies are life.

The professional version of myself is an editor who works for a digital marketing company. (Now you’ll be just that much happier when you find a typo on my blog. You’re welcome.)

I believe Disneyland is sacred ground, and I want to see the world almost as much as every other millennial, but maybe a little less because it’s honestly pretty expensive. Still, I try to go to one new country a year. (We’ll see how long that lasts.)

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Hit me up

If you have something you’d like to say to me, write me a letter. Just make sure you use your nice words. (Trolls are for dungeons.)