And a youth said, “Speak to us of Friendship.” Your friend is your needs answered. He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. And he is your board and your fireside. For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace. When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the “nay” in your own mind, nor do you withhold the “ay.” And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart; For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed. When you part from your friend, you grieve not; For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain. And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit. For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught. And let your best be for your friend. If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also. For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill? Seek him always with hours to live. For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness. And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.
If your reindeer really can fly…then women nearing 40 can still write you a letter. I’ve made big strides in the past year; I’ve only cussed once on the freeway that I can remember and I only mildly lost it last week when the check-out boy kept calling me “Bud” and “Buddy.” All I said to him was, “I am not your “Bud” or “Buddy.” “I’m not some little boy at little league game!” Surely you remember the Tina of old? She would not have had that much patience. Would you let your elves call Mrs. Claus “Bud” or “Buddy?” I’m guessing you would take my side on this issue after the first time an elf in retail was condescending toward her and said, “Hey Bud are you ready to check out? Sure thing Buddy, I can gift wrap that for you!”
I am writing to you because Christmas is the season of miracles and I still believe. Here’s the thing, I need an electrolysis machine. Have you priced those? They are outrageous and so are the procedures. I need one for the new blonde hair that sprouts every few weeks from the center of my chin. I can usually catch it in time and pluck the damn thing before anybody notices but it’s getting harder to keep up! I need you to help me zap it and the ones I fear will follow. The way I see it, my ancestors were sailing around the same time as the Vikings… my guess is, that blonde hair is a mutant gene determined to remind the others that it still exist and is strong enough to keep sprouting. I’m guessing an ancestor strayed onto the boat of a hot Norseman at some point in my lineage. Just a guess, but I do tend to find Scandinavian men attractive…it’s all coming together the more I think about it. Did I mention I am a brunette? This hair is not white Santa, it’s downright BLONDE! If you bumped some snotty nosed kid off of your list this year, I hope you can find it in your heart to squeeze me onto the list and bring me a toy capable of hair removal. I promise to share it with all of my other friends in need and to use it to spread Christmas joy!
I should probably tell you that there will not be any cookies out for you, I am on a diet. (Or I ate them all. One can never tell how these things will go— once the spirit of the season hits you.) However, I never give up on whiskey, so you feel free to help yourself to some Jack and there are diet 7-ups in the fridge.
My favorite Christmas joke(so far):
Why doesn’t Santa Claus have any kids?
Because he only comes once a year!
My Christmas tree theme is if it’s glitter, vintage, or beaded toss it on there somewhere! Gawdy and tacky is what I’m going for! No pretenses around here….if a bulb breaks we’ll sweep it up no big deal…