Yeah, interesting day that makes me feel a little more holly jolly Christmas this year.

Came back to my desk at work, and there was a card from my boss. Inside was a note that was really pretty cool about it being a tough year at work, but my coming through. I think best of all to me is she mentioned that I have given her a few laughs. Probably sad, but that’s a pretty high compliment in my little cosmos. Besides the note, which kind of incapsulated our personal/professional relationship, there was a crisp Benjamin baby. Nothing like a dead president to make the spirit bright. OK, so Benjamin Franklin wasn’t actually a president, but you know what I’m saying. Hmmm. Come to think of it, old Ben has come up a couple times this season — in dramatic foreshadowing to the crisp bill, my friend Liz gave me a Benjamin Franklin action figure.

All about the Benjamins, baby, all about the Benjamins.

In more season fucking cheer, I went to the second of two Christmas shows/parties that happen each year at the Studio and the Connection. There were closer friends at the Studio, which is my ‘hood afterall. And I watched the whole show and enjoyed most of it last night, so I almost didn’t go to the Connection. But, then I did. And, looking around the room, I remembered that fucked up as comedy is, and it is a fucking fucked up fuckety world, there are a lot of interesting people I like or just like talking with or listening to. (Of course, there are a fair amount of shitheads, but what can you do?) So even though I often feel like an awkward douchebag who can’t believe anyone would voluntarily socialize with her, I’m glad I went.

I am also glad I drank only a couple of light beers and left early, too.

With that demonstration of self-control and self-preservation, I got home and found a package hanging on my door. The final surprise of the day, a couple of T-shirts that could only have been purchased in Berkeley.

I’m going to back up a bit and say that up until today, T-shirts as gifts have been tainted for me. I don’t know whether it was the lame Valentine’s day T-shirt with a picture of roses, about as nice as this (but maybe not even): . Not to sound to ungrateful for any gift, but that T-shirt had the look and quality of a Store 24 last minute “shit I better do something but roses are so expensive” buy. Or maybe it was the T-shirt brought back from Africa, which he later mentioned in passing was the same or similar to one he brought back for that other woman who was just an experiment when we were on a break. Yeah, that’s nice and special.

But, these two T’s today are different, and they have removed the taint. They are hippie groovy sunshine California fun. Peace, love, flowers, beetles and most importantly a hint of someone knowing a little bit more about who I am. And a notecard mentioning my hippie idol of many, many, many years, Haight-Ashbury’s own Pearl, Janis:

And the backstory is M. waited to buy something once he arrived in Cali. And, he knows the artist who made the T-shirts, so he had the plan in place. These things make me think that perhaps the man was thinking about me, which is a good feeling to have.

Not a bad way to end a day.