Some of my friends are very absorbed in their work and families. Not that I blame them, but I don’t hear from them often. As I scanned my emails this morning, one was particularly unusual. I clicked on it.
“Hello my beautiful pastie!” it said.
Pastie? As in a nipple cover for the sweater kittens? I didn’t think that was what she meant. Mine are more like niblets than hooters.
I squinted and tried again.
“Hello my beautiful BEASTIE!”
Beastie? I thought we were on speaking terms. We had such a good time at Champagne-a-looza last summer. And I drove her home, in her car (so she would have it in the morning), past the cops as she sang with her bare feet up on the dashboard.
I patted around the top of my desk looking for the new reading glasses I purchased.
“Hello my beautiful Bestie. Happy Birthday,” it read.
Bestie – as in Best Friend.
Oh yes, thank you. It is so great getting old together.
Tales of Dragons, Rabbits and Roosters 