My Dear Friend Leslie

I lost my best friend Leslie to breast cancer in June and I miss her so very, very much. Leslie loved the holidays. After Thanksgiving she used to get all dolled up in Christmas sweaters, holiday jewelry, and those crazy socks that just rocked her world. My wonderful friend was a walking Christmas cliche, but on her those Christmas doodads looked absolutely right.

This will be my first Christmas Eve in almost two decades without her cheery, comforting, and beautiful presence. Leslie was so beloved by all that over 400 people attended her funeral. There was not a dry eye in the house, but there were also a lot of lovely smiles as we recalled her humor and laughter.

I will be gone during the next few days, so I will leave you with these thoughts:

Hold your family close to you.

Tell your close friends you love them.

Give an abandoned pet a second chance.

Wish for peace in Darfur where the genocide is ongoing. Contact one of the many Lost Boys in your region and give them a phone card that can reach Africa. (So they can call and support those that are left behind.)

Don't put something off for tomorrow that you can do today.

Take one minute every day to live purely in the moment. (Touch, sight, scent, intuitive self.)

Cherish life.

Cherish our environment and all the creatures in it.

Be a loving, caring person to all, even those people you can barely stand.

Be your own best friend.

Here's a cartoon Leslie would have loved. (She was one of those friends who forwarded scads of email funnies every day.)

Best wishes for a beautiful holiday season and New Year!

Opening Presents

Every present is special. Every gesture at Christmas is important. Dahlings, Ms. Place has already received scads of awful or redundant gifts. (And she's probably given a few herself with her regifts.)

It doesn't matter. My friends and family thought of me and that's all that counts. I love the consumables, of course: wine, cheese, fancy napkins, cookies, etc. I even love kitschy stuff like salt and pepper shakers in the form of cows.

Here's a typical Ms. Place reaction to a super present on YouTube. I just LOVE this video because these kids ... well, this describes my family.

T'is the Season for . . . Regifting

I just received my first regift candidate - a blue glass urn thingie 8" long and 3" in diameter covered in wire netting. It's supposed to hang from something (not the ceiling, because it's too small) and light up, but with what? The base is convex, so it can't hold a candle straight, and the bottom is too small for a tealight. The votive in this photo sort of resembles the gift, but I didn't receive the pewter holder (thank God!)

Last night's NBC newscast said that regifting is done more frequently in the northeast and midwest. Well, I'm from the mid-Atlantic and I regift all the time. I suspect my friends regift as well, and that this gift is a regift. Will it become a re-regift when I regift it?

I received another gift from this same person last year that was simply too horrible to pass on. Frankly I dreaded opening this year's package and faking a genuine smile of surprise and delight. The origin of this word is traced to a 1995 Jerry Seinfeld show titled The Labelmaker. The dialogue between George and Jerry came from the Word Spy website:

Here's the script snippet where regift was used in that Seinfeld episode (regifter was used earlier in the show; note, as well, yet another neologism: degift):

George: The wedding is off. Now you can go to the Super Bowl.

Jerry: I can't call Tim Whatley and ask for the tickets back.

George: You just gave them to him two days ago, he's gotta give you a grace period.

Jerry: Are you even vaguely familiar with the concept of giving? There's no grace period.

George: Well, didn't he regift the label maker?

Jerry: Possibly.

George: Well, if he can regift, why can't you degift?

Jerry: You may have a point.

George: I have a point, I have a point.