Dear future hubster,
my self-diagnosing practice continues: I love feeding people because that's an easy way to convince myself that somebody somewhere needs me. 

Dear future hubster,
my funny habit of leaving things behind where they don't belong (jewelry in bathrooms, CDs in rental cars, clothes in hotel rooms) has a simple reason. No, that simple reason is not that I'm forgetful, not only. Dr. Freud and I established that the root of the problem is my desperate need to be noticed, remembered, missed. Somewhere in the back of my mind I always doubt that my presence or lack thereof makes a difference, so I try to make sure that I leave a trace after I'm gone. A piece of me, so you can remember I was there.

Dear future hubster,
please promise that we will teach our son that harrasment is not acceptable in any form. But also, that we will teach our daughter not to accept what isn't acceptable.

Dear future hubster,
I love theater. Still.

Dear future hubster,
my emotions towards the Balaton have changed. It used to be a matter-of -fact, taken for granted, lightly treated and slightly ignored love; it has somehow become a deep, unsettling, guilty longing.