In the past 2 weeks, I’ve received gifts for Linus… at my apartment. Doggie treats left with my doorman (and a twix bar for me…oh my how thoughtful is that?), and today in the mail! The mail! I love getting real mail, it’s like found money. What a surprise these days to receive something personal in the mail. Because Victoria’s Secret Catologue isn’t personal to all of us, ya know. There’s something more romantic and substantial with written mail. It involves postage for one. Actually writing something without spell check. Handwriting is something I rarely see these days, unless I order in and look at my receipt. Handwriting is seexy intimate. It’s hot.
I recieved a box of toys for Linus (including a squeeky frog named Booda) with a card for me: “You make my frogs ribbet. Be good to yourself, pop-tart.” I had to laugh. I’m still smiling. I love good friends with stories like: “Why do frogs ribbet?” “My eggs taste better when you are near.” and “There’s always a parking spot for you in my lot.” We all need these characters in our lives… such soft places to fall. And lately I’ve needed friends like this even more. I’ve been sad, and crying, and yeah, pretty sad. ‘Bout sums it up. Nothing to be fixed… just life being heavy on me. Life as a too heavy itchy wool coat your mother makes you wear inside a too-much-polyester-in-here-department store. You’re too hot and always on the verge of a sneeze. I feel lonesome. Maybe Linus will share the frog with me tonight. I’m gonna kiss it and see what happens.
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