My BFF writes — on paper — yearly, a lengthy seasonal letter beginning something like, “Merry Yule, Blessed Ramadan, Happy Saturnailia, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa,…” then after naming everything that can possibly be construed as a midwinter holiday proceeds to describe the previous year of her perfect life. As her BFF I know the truth, and although I tell her I never read (as a matter of principle) these missives, we remain friends. Life is strange.