Dear Tim,

Doncha be a'takin' on so! Soon's y've haid yer REAL smoke, (on the REAL front porch swang), c'mon inter th' parlor 'n' set a spell. Half th' fellers iz hyar a'ready; must be th' scent o' good cookin' 'n' th' sound o' warm laughter jes' a 'slitherin' up thet ol' tree. Got plenty more vittles; saved some Calvados jes' cause I th'ot it'd tak' th' chill off'n ya. (If'n ya don't a'ready know, thet's th' seerin' apple brandy thet REEL MEN drenk over t' Normandy, whar they keep some o' th' jen-oo-ine Frenchies!) C'mon, Tim, step lively, don't let in th' chill, Honey!

Thanks fer th' choons,

Shula