Compadre,

Muchas Gracias, senora, for your kind demonstration of solidarity during this difficult time. I must say, I had never thought of myself as a humble immigrant in need of support from the great white mistress before……. You do realize that the oldballandchain is, in fact, a man don’t you, in spite of how he sounds on the phone? Our marriage was therefore entirely legal, and a love match, to boot, inexplicable as that may be. Last I heard, I believe these facts were enough to qualify me for citizenship, although as you so kindly point out, it’s not as if I am depriving the natives of any kind of useful employment, in any case.

Thankfully, however, my at-home status did mean I was able to provide a nutritious snack and dinner for your three oldest when they appeared at my door, mumbling something about  having run through the last pack of Cheetos for breakfast on Sunday. Had no idea you employed so many guest workers in your own home (‘illegals’ is such an ugly word, don’t you think?), but I absolutely refuse to believe the rumor that this is the first time many of them will have seen daylight this millennium. Rest assured, I will round up as many of them as I can catch on my way home from the spa this pm. Sorry this prevented me from keeping your youngest, as you had planned, but as someone who always looks out for my own greater interests – in this case, an organic beetlejuice and juju bean facial I’ve been dying to try – I felt sure you would understand.

Siempre Fidel!

P.

P,

Although I’m touched by your concern for my welfare, I think, if I’ve learned anything since moving to DC, it’s that friend is a word meaning, "what have you done for me lately."  And although I adore our tennis, tea and cocktails, it isn’t always enough to get what I need to survive here.  Of course, assuming you’ll still have me, I plan to continue those activities indefinitely and only add, as necessary, the odd and occasional suck-up to power. 

Nemesis may have a rear end the size of a mack truck, but she knows how to get things done.  As for Headmistress, I think the attraction is clear.  If only a trust fund or daddy’s separate but shared riches allowed me to make friends with women I liked, I would gladly do so.  I so envy the ladies on the other side of Connecticut Ave. but suspect their own "deal with the devil" lies next to them every night, and he’s usually much older, isn’t he? 

I only hope you can support me as I proceed through this very trying time: without hubby anywhere to be seen and so many house renovations and absent household help, I fear my pharmacist will be working overtime.  I only hope you will be too.

Faithfully,

C. 

Dear C,

Let me be the first to applaud you for creating such an admirable cost/benefit model with which to calculate the merits of your many and varied relationships.  Given that we live in a town where people like nothing better than looking over your shoulder to find someone more important to talk to, what better way to someone’s worth than by analzying what they have done for you lately?  My only suggestion would be that you extend this model further, to encompass hubby and cherubs.  Thus, when hubby threatens to drone on about his day, or youngest whines for some form of sustenance with her evening cocktail,  you can gently remind them of the late JFK’s stirring mantra:  ‘Ask not what your mother can do for you, but what you can do for your mother.’  (Feel free to substitute the word ‘wife’ in hubby’s case, btw, although what he likes to call you in the privacy of your own bedroom is between you, him and your two mother-in-laws, of course.)

Alas, I fear on this basis there is little or no future in our own relationship.  Unlike Headmistress or Nemesis, I cannot simply destroy a child’s future, or your dreams of a hot tub, with the stroke of a pen.  As always, all I can offer is tea, sympathy and a slice or two of cake.  But where else can you go for judgment-free calories in this holier than thou city?

Faithfully,

P.

P,

As you may know, hubby and I have decided to take on the dreaded powers that be and attempt a remodel of our less than stellar pool deck.  What you may not know is how much such a process is fraught with egos, petty differences and just plain ill will.  And that’s just between hubby and me.  As far as our little ‘burb goes, getting the job done is damn near impossible. 

I tell you all of this as a preface to my new and more positive relationship with Nemesis.  I simply need to find a way to get her on my side, dearest P.  You see, my friend,  she is not only a member of the Village Traffic Committee but also a years long devotee of the Property Police, in charge of issuing, or not, building permits. 

Although it hardly seems likely I could have truly alienated her at the holiday gathering, she simply sneered when I presented the preliminary case for our small property improvement at the last full gathering of said body.  Although my litigator instincts suggest finding a way to snuff her b/f the next gathering of the posse, I decided she may have an "in event of my death" permanent vote with the committee concerning my little abode.  No, my friend, I fear the only way to get what I want is to, well, befriend her. 

I sent the cherubs to her house today with a small tray of grandma baked cookies that I never much liked anyway.  You must remember she attended the holiday gathering with a niece and nephew.  Clearly she has a soft spot for children as neither you nor I would ever consider such an endeavor for less than full-blooded offspring of our own.  Her reaction surprised even me.  She accepted the gift and spent thirty minutes in the park with all but my youngest.  Was a little afraid to send that one around as she is such a "mini-me."  In any case, besides wondering how anyone could dislike someone who would play with my own obligations on personal time (when was the last time you took them all, P?), I feel she now has a personal face on the matter.  My campaign will continue into the spring.  By then, she can’t possibly imagine keeping my young from a heated and comfortable swim unit, can she?

Alas, dearest P, I fear my steps may cause some tension in our own relationship.  ‘Fraid there’s nothing to be done about that as a girl can’t really fully exist until issued her hot tub permit, right?  And if the obc ever ventures down to Nemesis’ home for a meeting, I’ll have an excuse to send a kid or three to keep whatever spark exists without full flame.  I only hope HeadMistress will understand why I can’t honor our thrice weekly yoga sessions at the moment as I am devoted to dropping by to see Nemesis weekly at one such appointed hour.  It seems I may be spreading myself a bit these days.  Only hope all the right parts are going where they need to be for maximum benefit, if you know what I mean.

Faithfully,

C.

Et tu, C?

Somehow, I knew it would one day come to this.  Given the way sparks flew at the holiday party back in December, I sensed it was only a matter of time before you and Nemesis were co-mothering your extended brood together, particularly since hubby is spending increasing amounts of time with his secretary – I mean, preparing for the upcoming Trial of the Century.  Far be it from me to accuse you of intimacy issues, but clearly the tea-time and cocktail hour we have shared for these past three or so years mean nothing to you, now that the installation of a hot-tub has become essential to your idea of personal happiness. 

Much as I hate to rain on your latest parade, however, it seems you may have competition for Nemesis’ affections.   Coincidentally, the oldballandchain and I ran into her at Whitetail yesterday, while partaking in a family day of ski-ing.  Naturally, she was there with her beloved niece and nephew, dressed in a fetching all-in-one number that did wonders for her behind (turning it into one of the 8 Wonders of the World).  In spite of this, the obc claims to have experienced a certain rustling bordering on tumescence in his own ski pants after running into her, literally, coming off the chairlift. 

Never mind that this confession that will have him in Time Out for years, if not indefinitely; I was more concerned about a certain revolting coyness I thought I detected on her part, after he picked her up and dusted her down. 

Picture, if you will, a forty-year old in an Alice band, blushing to the roots of her untouched brown hair at the mere sight of my aging spouse.  Now remember, this too could be you, if you insist on taking this relationship to the next level.  Far be it from me to be brunette-ist, but remember that birds of a feather do flock together, so you will just have to assume the frumpiness along with the enhanced social and political connections. 

If this is the person with whom you want to share many intimate moonlit experiences, bubbling away in your own personal spa, then all I can say is, go for it.  Just be aware that there may be three of you in that tub – and that Headmistress and I may just have to stop by and chuck the odd hairdryer in with the lot of you.

Faithlessly,

P.