It seems like all of my friends and family are sending out Christmas cards this year. I guess I’m reaching the age where people are mostly married, maybe even have kids, or going through their first divorce. Apparently, standing in with their parent’s pictures is no longer sufficient. Until, that is, one sibling undoubtedly crashes and burns in their life and reverts back to being under the parental umbrella of holiday cheer. Most families have one of these cases. Characteristics include, but are not limited to, being over 30, lack of spouse, lack of career development, living at home, and, of course, denial.
The overall confirmation of this is taking family photos, such as Christmas cards, grouped in with your own parents, either because it is too embarrassing to stand by yourself, or your children resent you. Either way, Christmas is a cruel mistress who makes your sad place in life becomes painfully evident. You may or may not be holding the family pet for solace, knowing at least Fluffy is still happy to have you hanging around.
Which one will it be in my family? It is between the three of us: myself, my brother, and my sister. This is yet to be determined. That’s the kicker. There are families out there, even extended families, without these characters. Give it time, someone will step up to the plate and become the family deadbeat. Until then, enjoy your boring, Norman Rockwell-like holidays devoid of jealous tension and passive-aggressive remarks fueled by stress and booze. Your day is coming, if it has not already arrived without you noticing.
But it is all smiles on the holiday cards. I know my mailbox is about to be very full of these cards, because everyone keeps asking for my address. I am repeatedly texting my new address to just about everyone I know, a side effect of moving so often. I’m starting to get annoyed, but I feel kind of bad about that because, for some reason, these people care about me. And, they must also think that I don’t care about them, since I am not asking for anyone’s address in return, since I have nothing to send. Unless you count the picture of Josh and I submitted to his mother three weeks after she asked for it.
I am starting to notice that more people do not feel that a card is enough, but must send a letter. I would like to joke about how much I don’t give a crap about these, but it simply isn’t true. I do enjoy reading them. That being said, I have decided to write my own Christmas letter.
Dear Everyone,
If you are getting this letter, you either already know everything that is already in it, because we communicate on a somewhat regular basis, or I do not care about you to enough to call every once in a while but still feel you should be interested in my life. Either way, Happy Holidays and I am going to update you on everything that happened this year!
The most notable thing is that we moved to Texas. We do not miss snow but do like to brag about everyone here being a baby about mild temperatures.
Josh and I bought our first set of cowboy boots. Mine are simple leather, while Josh’s are handmade ostrich and elephant hide. I know refer to him as “The Poacher,” a nickname he ignores. The Poacher and I are considering buying a handgun. We realize that is does bring us down to the white trash level of many Texans, but the good news is we can read AND we aren’t related to each other. So, we have that going for us, which is nice.
As usual, Josh is working a million hours a week and I was lucky to find work almost immediately upon arriving to Texas. I am working for a school that I worked for when I lived in Kansas City and am happy to be back with that company. I commute about 45 minutes each way, weaving my way through people who drive like they are playing Grand Theft Auto.
Killebrew is nursing a paw injury that is kind of unusual. Over Thanksgiving, he ripped the top off of one of his nails and licked it to the point of infection. I came home to find my dog with a cone secured to his harness which caused him to constantly run into things. I also found his bandaged leg secured with duct tape, which Josh implemented to ward off Killebrew’s chewing of his foot. There is something so sad, yet so very funny about seeing a dog who is balancing on three legs repeatedly beating his cone against a cabinet to get at a potato chip on the floor.
For the first time in months, Texas decided to have a rainstorm that weekend, which presented a problem. Killebrew could not get his bandage wet. So, every time he wanted to go outside, we had to duct tape Ziploc sandwich bags to his foot and carry him outside. In fact, we have been carrying him quite a bit, and his new favorite game is to wake me up in the middle of the night to lift him into bed.
For the holidays, Josh and I prefer to celebrate in our Grinch way, by sitting on our couch and doing nothing. No Christmas tree, no presents. Just celebrating with our new addition to the family, our smoker! That is right, no children. This gut is all beer.
So what else is new? Absolutely nothing. New state, same shit. Oh, except we can find about ten different types of queso at the local grocery. That’s new. Other than that, nothing. I go to work, I do homework, I work out either that my glowing gym or the small 1970’s style fitness center at the top of our office building. The contrast between the two is astounding, but activity is activity even if you are bench pressing on something out of Happy Days.
Until next year.
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