A dream of December. In December.

It's December.

My friend from Boston comes next week. She does it each year to go with me to pick out a Christmas tree.

She's Jewish.

We bring it home, stand it up overnight and decorate it the next day while listening to Christmas carols.

Then we make a nice dinner and lift our glasses in a toast to goodwill toward men.

Goodwill to all of you, too.

Done