Does this mean I will never be self-less? Please, dear Lord?
In case it takes decades, please note this is well-made and built to last. Ahem.
The envelope pockets are well crafted.
Each envelope has a special title. Cute artistamps! Hand cancels, too!
Note the writing tip.
The "envelope" folds out into a letter.
Don't forget to read the back! Then try it out.
A true story: I overheard a daughter's comment to her mother yesterday. They were going up the aisle I'd just strolled down, and as we passed, the daughter chided her mother: "Mom, every time you go shopping you look for gifts for someone else." Mother didn't say anything. She just smiled. Listening for a response would have given me away as an eavesdropper, so I turned up the opposite aisle, but I thought of this gift I bought for me over a week ago. I tried to treat myself as I would a friend. I bought me a totally useless gift. (Laugh)
I first saw it in Chronicle Books' online store some months back. It did not appeal to any part of me then, so I passed and bought the Typewriter Notes instead. Seeing it again in Barnes & Noble encouraged me to change my mind. I did. No, I have not used it yet. If I don't use it before Christmas, well . . . Happy Christmas, someone! But, I believe--maybe--that I bought it as a response to . . . Well, when I read passages from old journals I always pause to consider the "me" that I was back-back-back when I wrote those words. Surely they were important enough back then to save as a record of my life, otherwise why would I have committed them to paper?
To date, every journal is intact. I have not ripped out any one page, or entire sections after a read-back. You become good at manual deletion by the time you're sixteen. Right? Mortification decreases with age and wisdom, I assure you. But still, who writes letters addressed to themselves? "Let me see," said the blind man.