welcome, friend

Ahh, December! Right on time, as usual. Come in, come in! You must be freezing out there. Oh, I see. A new jacket and scarf. Very nice! Such a stylish month you’ve always been. Try as they might, the others just can’t quite capture your fashion sense. Bling, bling!

What’s that? Oh not too much. The usual – you know. Too little time, too little cash. That’s always been your saving grace, you know? We Sagittarians can justify spending a little extra dough on a sparkly new top for the impending Yuletide fiestas because it is our birthdays after all. To be honest though, turning 28 doesn’t give you quite the same license that turning 18 does. Can’t quite ask dad for a c-note in the 'ol card anymore to help defray the cost of going out to Saturday night dinner with the girls. Even if Gido were to send a little Borden portrait in the mail to mark the anniversary of the birth of his first born child – his only daughter I might add, a daughter that he loves, very, very much; much more than sending 100 dollar bill could ever prove, but it would be a good start – I would probably have to hang the likeness of our eighth prime minister on the wall that pays the Visa, or buys cat food. Three double martinis over a Keg steak seem so non-essential these days.

What’s that? Oh, wonderful, thanks! Even though we’ll be spending Christmas alone in Ottawa this year, it will surely be the best Christmas ever because of him. Oh yes, I think he’ll just adore your gift. How could any little boy not love the big, fluffy white components of what can easily be molded into dangerous projectile weapons, if only you pack them right? You’re nothing if not generous on that cold front, December.

Would you excuse me for a moment, December? I just have a couple things to do while you’re here. There are trees to trim and cards to post and ensembles to consider, and re-consider. It won’t take me long. Maybe you could just talk to me while I…

What? No, no, no, no, no, December! You can’t go yet! You just got here! What?! That can’t be! Oh. Dear. God. Who invited him anyway? Ugh. Don’t tell him I said this, but January’s never been a favorite. Too sterile. Uptight. Not the most fun to be around when you have a hangover, either. He won’t go for bacon and eggs and Bloody Caesars with me, like, ever – says he can’t afford them, the cheap bastard. He just doesn’t know how to have fun like you do, December.

Okay, good. Just for a little while longer then. I’ll make it worth your while, I promise. Sit, sit. Take off your coat, will ya? I made you some perogies, and C. and B. graciously left a whole schwack of Bailey’s the last time they were here. I’ll pour you a coffee. Warm your tootsies.

Here you go. More Bailey’s? Sure. I love you, December, you know that? Always the last to leave the party. I respect that.