Dear Rach (cuz we’re tight like that),
Thank you so much for having me (and 35 other people) to dinner on Friday night. I very much enjoyed your company, and your fetching brown top. I wanted to follow up on a couple of things and figured this letter would be the best way to go about it, seeing as how you neglected to give me your number (though somehow you managed to get mine. Hit me on my cellie, girl!)
Just some photos of us, laughing at each other.
As we discussed over fancy pizza and endless thimbles full of limoncello, yes, I think it’s a great idea that you join my motorcycle gang, the Ginger-Haired Devils. I am willing to overlook the fact that you don’t have red hair if you are willing to overlook the fact that I don’t own a motorcycle, nor do I know how to ride one.
Our jackets will be way cooler than this.
Also, if you formally join the gang, that will bring membership up to two, so that’s not much of a gang. If you have some suggestions as to whom we might invite into the fold, I’m all ears. But don’t ask Rosie O’Donnell because I think one lesbian is quite enough. Ditto on Gayle King. However, I will make an exception for my good friend and yours, Kim Severson, author of the bitchin’ new memoir Spoon Fed: How Eight Cooks Saved My Life. By the way, have you read the chapter about you in the book yet? You should. It’s delish.
