Dear Abby-

No, other readers.  It's not that "dear abby" but when I write it on a note or type it in an email, it never fails to crack me up.  Seriously.  I've never had a friend named "Abby" before.  It's like writing "dear john," except there are enough "Johns" that we've all probably written that.  Not so with "dear abby."  Not everyone is lucky enough to get to write "dear abby" to a real person and giggle about it every time.

So, Abby...I'm writing to you just to tell you what an amazing chick I think you are.  For one thing, I couldn't believe your hair when I saw you today!  If you're reading this and your hair's not perfect, never look at Abby because her hair actually is perfect.  Seriously.  It's gotten quite long and it's a gorgeous dark brown but the word "brown" doesn't really describe the color, since it's so glossy and shiny that it makes it something else all together.  I could just never really accurately describe your hair with the word that's the same one you use for the color of dirt.  Doesn't work.  Honestly, Abby.  It really is beautiful hair...and then I get to hug you goodbye and smell whatever great shampoo you use and the smell just makes it awesomer and awesomer (really-that's why I made this line be my favorite color...much more applicable).

You are pretty and have great hair and skin, but those are not the qualities about you that make you so very endearing to me.  It's your face; specifically, the way it talks.  Watching you listen to me while I tell you a story is like watching your face tell it right back to me.  You couldn't be more expressive if you were watching "Terms of Endearment" or "Nightmare on Elm Street."  Whether what I'm saying is surprising or funny or suspenseful or sad-it's all right there looking right back at me every time I talk to you.  It makes me wonder what my face looks like when you tell me something.  Does my face talk like yours?  Hmmmm.  In any event, it's by far and away my favorite quality about you.  Oh, but there are others.

If you're reading this right now and you don't know Abby, you're probably saying "for God's sakes, give it a rest.  Alright already.  She's pretty and expressive.  Why don't you marry her."

You're not getting it though.

It's not just your face that talks and captures me, Abby.  It's your life that talks and captures even the cynic in some of the most cynical people I know.  Did you set out to have a life that told this amazing, animated, full of love and sun life?  I'm not saying you're a Pollyanna.  You're into random kindness and peace but when you have a shitty day, you own up and get straight about how not kind or sunny you felt.  "Three times I checked if Mercury was in retrograde," you told me.  Holy cow, girlfriend.  You just live right out loud, good, bad or otherwise.

When I told you today that I fell asleep and heard myself muttering "everybody needs something...first thing in the morning I'm going to take care of it and figure out how to get everybody what they need," you laughed and said it would make a great title for a book because so many women could relate.

Here's the thing, though:  you're walking around with 15 plates in the air, running like hell to keep them spinning, just like the rest of us, but for the most part, I see you spinnin' those plates and lovin' it.  Somehow you had the courage to get to a place where you like keeping those plates up there cuz they're pretty colors and it's fun to watch them spin and you get a kick out of running from one to another.  Sure, you drop a plate once in a while (I'll kinda put this one in code since other people will read it-a plate dropped could mean, say, Clover getting picked up from pre-school...or not...and you maybe running down the street like you're on fire...or not...maybe we'll just say you're perfect, mother and otherwise...ok...that'll work for this letter) but you don't engage in a lot of self flogging that's so unattractive in many of us plate droppers.  You just...what's the word???  You're authentic!  And the authentic you is a happy, loving, amazing woman who goes at the world like the whole big blue and green ball is your playground and you set up a picnic for everyone else every day and can't help getting a kick out of it.  So you just go back to being you...Abby.

I know lots of people pat you on the back and are stunned by all of the dreams you've turned into goals which you're made into reality.  I'm right there.  You've done so many fantastic things you've set out to do, sometimes with nothing to go on but the sheer force of your will.  Awesome.  That's not what this letter is about, though.  It's a very long thank you note.  Seeing your face talk back at me when I'm talking to you is such a blast-it's like you're hanging on every word...you don't even know how much Clover looks like that, lucky little girl.  Bouncing ideas back and forth with someone who will actually get all caught up right along with me?  So cool.  Someone I can tell about how the Universe orchestrated a whole scenario to get me where I need to be and have you nod your head with that "of course" look?  The best.  

Being with you is just a good place, Abby, and it doesn't matter where that place is.  Thank you for sharing all of your love and enthusiasm and optimism and faith with me.  I'm all the better for having had our paths intersect.  I'm grateful for your presence in my life every single time I'm with you.  You know those joy sucking dream squashers?  The ones who nay say every time you get excited?  You're the opposite of that.  I know when I'm with you, I can tell you any psychadelic craziness I've thought of, and you'll say "right on...you sing it, sistah!"

Whenever I feel like leaping before I look, I know you'll take my hand and jump right off any old cliff I can find.  You're just special that way.

Seriously.  I just love you.