The other day I saw myself type, in a letter to my Aunt Joan, who doesn't do email:
Life is good in Chicago. Scout's a freshman at a huge high school, where she made varsity on the soccer team and has endless difficult schoolwork and a jam-packed social life.
I'm working hard and traveling a lot: This year, mostly work but some pleasure trips have taken or will take me to Thailand, Australia, Dominican Republic, Ecuador and … wait for it … Botswana.
At the airport, I'm going to have to ask someone where that even is.
Cristie's busy too, and our fleeting days feel like nostalgic memories.
That's the sort of thing you write in a letter, but wouldn't in an email—speaking of nostalgic memories.