Dear C,

So glad to hear that your loyalty may be re-purchased for the price of a few trinkets – I was beginning to fret, here in England, about the amount of time you were spending in the company of more fun, and dare I say, shady characters, such as R. and the Other P.

Your comments about my only topic of conversation being the number of pounds gained (alas, never lost) during the course of a day cut me to the quick, so I have been spending the last few days throwing caution to the wind, going topless and smoking ’spliff’, as the youf here like to call it, in my parents’ backyard.  Hard to do this around these parts, where gangs of octogenarian neighbors have a tendency to creep up on one more silently than a stealth-bomber in their rubber-soled shoes and zimmer frames, but I think I managed to buy the silence of Mrs. S. with the promise of a quarter-ounce of Taliban Gold.  Rest assured, dear C, if all hell breaks loose, and I find myself banged up for the foreseeable future, I am taking the old bat down with me.  She may not be quite as ‘lively’ as the other P., but when it comes to knitting booties and rolling joints, there isn’t a granny to touch her.  And besides, with her teeth in, and hair out of curlers, I think she’ll make a rather fetching cellmate.

In the meantime, I remain yours,

Faithfully,

P.

Dearest P,

I am, as always, encouraged by your efforts at self-improvement.  And more than a little thrilled at the direction it has taken.  I have, on the other hand, abandoned all pretense of neighborhood involvement.  As soon as it was confirmed that we would, in fact, participate in a neighborhood garage sale, I immediately began looking elsewhere for companionship.  I have far too much in common with these people than I am willing to admit.  How am I to continue to better myself if consistently surrounded by those who seek to drag me right back to my own level?  I’ve decided to head to the estates in Potomac to find my real friends.

In the meantime, I’ve taken a brief detour to my home state once again for my father’s surgical needs.  I’m beginning to think his medical care is something of a hobby, or dare I say it, his new profession.  Not surprisingly, although the "final" surgery went stunningly well, the cardiologist mentioned another surgery may be necessary.  Apparently the good dr. lost a bet to one of his vascular surgeon buddies and needs to throw some business his way. 

On the upside, it will give me the opportunity to spend a little more "quality" time with the cardiologist who performed the most recent procedure on my father.  You may recall my former obsession with the cardiologist who performed a previous procedure.  Well, dear P, never one to miss an opportunity to turn a pleasant encounter into an obsession, I find myself again pining for a man who has saved my father’s life. 

I’m almost certain the cardiologist who doesn’t know my name may return my affection.  Although he has made no effort at contact since our thirty second chat about my father’s health, dearest P, he happens to be a neighbor of my padre, who has conveniently invited him to fish in his well-stocked ponds and told him to bring his own young children to join him.  At last my own cherubs will serve a useful purpose as I parade them to the water with fishing sticks and some kind of bait (other than me). 

Do hurry back, P, as I feel I may be losing some perspective–although exactly why is very unclear.  Hubby is to return from a much too long business trip this morning and I feel vaguely that I should not be contemplating so many other fish in the sea.  Perhaps I need hubby and the oldballandchain together again to remind me exactly why all gentlemen are, in fact, the same distressing man.

Faithfully,

C.