Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster, I do understand what offside means. I even recognize Michel Platini on the tribune. (Is it just me, or all UEFA officials have the same tie?) But that doesn't stop me from 1. doing my nails during Poland-Russia and 2. noticing how Andriy Shevchenko looks like Brandon Flowers.

Dear future hubster, I think you should be proud of me. I don't panick any more when I realize I missed my turn. I just decide I turn around at the next roundabout and everything will be fine. Ok, the next roundabout may be a few kilometers away, but hey! one step at the time, ok?

Dear future hubster, I know it's going to sound weird, but I kinda hope that your feet stink. Because, honestly, after a day of wearing shoes and tights, mine, well... I just want to blame it on you.

Dear future hubster, Ritus has seen you in her dream. Apparently you have dark hair and blue... blue car or shirt. Something blue, in any case.

Dear future hubster, you know why I was so generous letting you keep the fancy shiny two-seater? Because I knew there would be days when then kids are at the grandparents', the night is mild and the late spring breeze is irresistable - and that's when you'll take me for a ride by the river, with the roof off and the music on, like we are young. Because we are young. So let's set the world on fire.