Today was like Christmas with all sorts of packages arriving with art and completely engaging letters and photos from abroad (I'll post about those later), but one special item especially surprised me.

I have a dear friend from my Kansas City days. We were tennis partners. I haven't seen her in years, but those threads are more like fishing line - they don't fray.

My friend and I were good tennis players. Far from great. Good. Today I was thinking about those many hours we spent together strategizing. She's a lefty.

One of the wild cards we brought to the court was her extreme beauty. This is the honest-to-goodness truth. She looked like Julia Roberts but a bazillion times prettier. Her beauty was a magnificent distraction for any gender. (She would soundly bop me over the head for those observations, because she was and I'm sure continues to be very humble and sweet.)

Today this mug arrived.







The enclosed note was partially written by my friend. Her daughter had to complete it because my friend became weak, distracted. She's very very very ill.

I hope her daughter reads this post to my friend. That it makes her smile when I mention the night in Minnesota when we put nylon stockings on our heads, picked up our tennis rackets and hunted for bats that were terrorizing us at night as we all tried to sleep. (Don't worry, it was the process we enjoyed. No bats were injured.) Somewhere deep in a family album there's a photograph of the two of us in a our bat hunting garb. We thought we were a laugh riot. Well, and we were.

My friend's name is Annie. Please include her in your prayers. I want her to beat this cancer in straight sets.

Thanks for stopping by.

Love.