A fish called Larry

I wasn't exactly one-hundred-percent last week. Maybe because my boss threatened to fire me last Monday. Or maybe because I'm ridiculously poor and it's Christmas time. Maybe because I feel like a big fat sugary blob. Maybe because I really want to be at home right now with my family in our cozy, cheery house.

Maybe . . .

But something happened this past week that also reminded me that everything is going to be okay. And that it is . . . well, Christmas.

One of my best friends, Iselle, asked me out to lunch, saying "I wanna give you your Christmas present." First, I was surprised. Iselle is Jewish. We've never done Christmas present exchanges before. Secondly, I was sorta bummed (horrible, I know), thinking, "Damn it, I have no money for a good gift."

So I go to meet Iselle for lunch at one of our favorite restaurants. I try to take a leisurely stroll from my parking spot at the only free meter in LA to the restaurant to wait for Iselle, but the smell of newly strewn fertilizer destroys the pleasantness of the walk. I'm in a bad mood as I wait to be seated. Hating every rich wanna-be-vintage-clad-cigarette-smoking-absurdly-spoiled-Beverly Hills-teen talking WAY too loud about their new designer boots and how much of a back stabbing bitch "Jenny" is, while munching on egg whites at the outdoor tables.

Then I spot Iselle. She walks up to me, holds up a beautiful Crowntail Beta fish and says, "This is Larry H. Parker."

I almost cry, my bad mood melting away like the plastic noses of those spoiled rich kids in the hot California Christmas sun.

I know it sounds weird that I was so emotional over a fish named Larry H. Parker, but this gift, the inside joke of it, the thoughtfulness behind it, reminds me that no matter how miserable I may feel I'll always have my friend Iselle. The person who understands me when no one else can, who tells me I'm brilliant and hilarious, who encourages me to create, who knows just what to say because she's been there. The person who tells me that everything is going to be okay without saying a word.

Standing outside the restaurant, proudly holding the best Christmas present ever, I was reminded that there are things in life so much more important than some job or having money.

Things like best friends and a fish called Larry.