Letter to Julia 20120514

In the name of Allah, most Gracious, most Merciful.

Hi there, my dearest Julia.  How are you feeling?  I'm sitting here listening to Parliament and writing my love letter to you.  I've been listening to nothing but Parliament all the time lately.  It's near the end of mango season here at Casa de Julia.  I've been picking the last of the mangos off the the tree in my front yard.  It is a huge tree.  I can't seem to tell when the fruit is ripe enough to pick, and there are so many fruit that I can't stop the ones that fall to the ground.  Once the fruit drops to the ground it's pretty much useless.  The only way I know the fruit is ripe enough to pick is to leave it alone and age for about 2 months.  About 50 mangos of that tree went to waste this year.  But there are too many of the good fruits for me to eat!  So we give them away.  There are still a few more fruit on the topmost branches, and I have to try to get them so they don't go to waste.  Want some?

Love is such an old-fashiond thing.  I do love you, my Julia.  And ours is such an old-fashioned romance.  With my keeping chaste and preparing a home and life together with you, that we will be together at all times, and that you will have a good and happy life.  I am not a fortune teller: I am a servant of Allah.  And you must seem like a mother figure to your Victoria's Secret buddies, huh?