Dear Hurricane Earl,
I am beach bound.
My bags are packed.
We are ready to go.
I am wearing a pencil skirt.
As much as I would like to say that a mighty wind blew my skirt up on the great Atlantic
just typing that made me giggle alas, I do not wish it to be by a seaman named Earl.
Who named this one?
If you don't mind I'd really prefer that you turn around and leave us alone. Whatever the case, I'll be hunkered down on the shore with my sturdy monster hurricane-proof umbrella with accompanying male servant while you languish in the tropics and make up your mind.
Your friend and fellow fickle brain,
Mimi Pencil Skirt
P.S. You have lousy timing.