Darlings!
Did all of my three-dimensional dear ones have a Happy New Year? I certainly hope so! I for one had quite the New Years Eve. Lovebirds Nick Carroway and Jay Gatsby’s mansion is THE place to be as the year turns. Champagne, fireworks, endless dancing, canoodling and that bonfire on the beach as we await the first sunrise of the year is a pip. The highlight for me is stealing away to the quiet of the card room for a few hands of Texas Hold ‘Em. I confess that I do rather well at cards. I suppose it has something to do with being related to Lady Luck on Mamá’s side.
This year I won a club from a gentleman whose name rhymes with Merrick Raven. (I am, after all, a woman who holds all the queens.) His wife, Sara Fielding, and I are dear chums, but she did have to hose the poor boy down in order to get him to hand over the keys. And honestly, he has an entire day named after him. Does he really need a club in which to celebrate Derek Craven, err, Merrick Raven Day?
I’ve decided to start my own enterprise in said club and admit a handpicked clientele. I’ve invited only the most interesting people in Romancelandia to impress me with why they should be admitted, and I’m delighted to share their applications. Who do you think I should admit? Auntie wants to rub serifs with only the finest folks, don’t you?
In the meantime, let me know what you think I should name my club. The original owner had no imagination whatsoever. What do you think of the Madness, Mayhem, and Merriment Society? Or perhaps Libra’s Bombastic Book Club & Grill?
The possibilities boggle the mind!
Ta for now,
–Aunt Libra
Dear Aunt Libra,
Thank you for your invitation to apply to your new club, but I’m afraid my boyfriend and I will be busy. Also, he’s Russian and not inclined to hang out with literary characters who don’t know the Cyrillic alphabet. Perhaps we can explore this again after hockey season.
— Shane Hollander
Dear Shane,
Quel dommage! My little enterprise would so benefit from men of action such as yourselves. And we have an endless supply of ginger ale and good Russian vodka. I do hope you will reconsider when you’re not pucking around. You can’t stay in the cottage forever.
— Aunt Libra
Dear Aunt Libra,
Whatever would make you think I would be seen with the likes of Romancelandia? Isn’t it enough that I have a major fashion magazine to produce and the latest Emily to train? Why not ask Andrea? She doesn’t have the taste to know better, and her intolerable cheer will most likely be tolerated by you lovesick fools.
And do stop wearing so much Elsa Schiaparelli. She was only cutting edge in the 20th century.
— Miranda Priestly
Darling Miranda,
I wouldn’t expect a literary character created so recently—2003!—to have the experience or the sense to understand the highest achievements in fashion. Although I suppose your lack of taste wouldn’t be a detriment to a career in fashion when you have a tongue so sharp it could double as shears. I thank heavens we won’t have to put up with the likes of you.
— Aunt Libra
P.S. Call me when you get back from Paris and let’s have lunch. I’ll have Chef whip up your favorite—a lettuce leaf seasoned with the tears of your enemies.
Dear Aunt Libra,
How perfectly delightful to be invited to apply for your club. What sort of club will it be? May I bring my children, or will it be adults only? Will there be food? Drinks? Handsome men?
I must thank you again for your kindness last April when I accidentally tipped over the statue of your great-grandmother Mnemosyne into the koi pond. I had no idea the koi could curse like that. They’re supposed to be so wise. I really do appreciate you rescuing me.
Kindly accept my application for membership. And please let me know if there’s a dress code. I may need some help with that.
— Bridget Jones
Dearest Bridget,
Kaya and her offspring were my guests for Beltane, darling. They’re fairly used to the shenanigans of the two-legged. Fortunately, Grandmother’s statue did my finny friends no harm, so there’s nothing to forgive. But when you come to the club, please leave all sharp objects at home and maybe opt for a flat heel for safety’s sake.
— Aunt Libra
Dear Sentient Being Known as Aunt Libra,
I do not understand this summons. My friend, Dr. Ayda Mensah, tried to explain this ritual to me, but I would prefer to consume entertainment content with A.R.T. Also, I don’t comprehend your insistence in referring to A.R.T. as my “main squeeze.” A.R.T. is a megaton research transport ship. I am unable to squeeze it in any fashion.
Kindly desist from future contact.
— Murderbot
Dear Murderbot,
Young love is so delightful, is it not? I suppose you and A.R.T. are still in the honeymoon phase and not quite ready yet to frolic with friends. But let Auntie give you a tip: couples need more common interests than streaming platforms and intergalactic mysteries. When you lovebirds come up for air, I would be happy to welcome you to the club, although I’m not quite sure how A.R.T. would fit. I’m sure we could figure something out.
— Aunt Libra
My dearest inlkings,
It looks like I’m going to have to cast a wider net for potential club members. Who do you recommend? And what do you think we should name our new club? My pages are shivering in expectation of receiving your suggestions!
Smooches until next time,
— Aunt Libra
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