Dear August,

I am writing you this letter because I feel as though you have gotten a bad rap over the past few thousand years. Let’s be honest, you get no play. And by play I mean holidays. Sure my sister was born withing the days of your month, but likely now she would rather forget that she is gaining years. Most of the time I loathe your existence. Putting up with you is a torture that one must wade through. You are full of hot steaminess that is far from the steam within the pages of the romance novels I see on the shelves at my local supermarket. When we make it through you we are greeted with the loveliness of September and a promise of a whole new year. Because lets face it, the year always ends with you and not December. The modern school year ruined it for you.
One thing you do have going for you is the State Fair in the fine land of Minnesota. I will declare this the only perk of your time. The anticipation of Pronto Pups and Butter Queens is going to be what I yearn for at the last week of your reign.

I feel it will push me through your month as I push through thick muggy air you force me to live with.
If you would be so kind I would be pleased to make a deal with you: Give me some days with temperatures the sixties and I will begin to celebrate a new holiday in your time as a tribute to the cool air. We’ll call it Augustopia Day and we shall celebrate the fact that you were named after Augustus who defeated Marc Anotony. It was that glorious event that drove J-Lo into Marc’s arms and we were at the end of the media circus known as Bennifer. So in essence it was you, grand month of August, it was you…*sniffle*

Sincerely, Kristiane Bell

P.S. If you can do something to squash the Spice Girl reunion, I will do my best to bring an existing holiday your way. How do you feel about Columbus Day?