`Tis the season once again when I receive, via USMail, the annual holiday missives from various households of friends and family.
Unlike other recipients, who I am certain rip the envelope to shreds within 30 seconds after entering the house - if they even wait that long - in a frantic effort to extract the best of the holiday season, I leave the ones I receive to sit and marinade in their own juice of oddball, eclectic and often extremely whacked annual observations about to be shared by its author.
However, despite my hesitation, they must eventually be opened and read. Certainly, they could be tossed with the rest of the junk mail but I fear the authors may actually be able to tell who does so, sort of like the Naughty and Nice list of a twisted Santa prone to sending even more similar presents to the wrong side of that list.
Oh, these letters of renown are not without their charm nor are they totally devoid of humor. Case in point is this year's memorable description of the favored, music loving barn animals surrounded by Christmas decorations and their own special day stockings or the particularly vivid telling of killing a wild animal and secretly preparing it for the family's festive Christmas Eve dinner...without telling any of the guests how this road kill came to be in the freezer.
In all honesty I look forward to receiving these annual greetings, and will admit to opening the letter as soon as I remember to do so, which this year did in fact take one day.
As for this household, the dream is still being lived. I am one year older and am not exactly sure what that means yet but I think I am on the cusp going from trying to please everyone to entering the stage when I am done taking grief from people or suffering fools and idiots; I have earned the right to say what I really think. I promise to fully embrace this change in life with all the gusto I can muster in my dotage...if I remember to do so.
Apparently this is also the stage in life when instead of someone saying to me, “Wow, your (insert body part you are most proud of) is soooo hot!” they say, “Wow! You have really great veins! Now hold still when I insert this needle and soon we will have the results of all your lab work”. And the even dumber part is that I get all super proud of how great my veins look. This represents a sad change in my mentality and a lowering of my standards. Welcome to Old Age.
By now I suppose you are wondering about my partner in crime, Cindy. She is doing well but I was beginning to worry about her mental health. This fall I heard her screaming, "Get out of there, you Fat Ba$#*rd!!!" Initially thinking she was referring to me, I almost fled the house. But my curiosity got the better of me and I found her standing at the kitchen window apparently staring at nothing. Then I realized that she was trying to persuade a particularly large hummingbird to make way for a smaller bird so it could partake of the nectar within the feeder.
I don’t understand why we are spending big money on expensive bird feed, but then again I am not going to criticize her choice of bird feed or she just might begin to question my audio upgrades over the past year. I’ve learned after 30 years of marriage that there are just some things that you should shut up about.
Anyway, “Fat Ba$#*rd” is what Cindy has named the greedy bird and of course you can bet I am eyeing him for a 4Th of July BBQ next summer. C’mon over! You know that since Cindy is around the perfect wine selection will compliment the slowly roasted Fat Ba$#*rd. And for my part the correctly chosen marinade will be used for your culinary delight.
With Holiday Wishes Immortalized By Anyone You Care To Name, I Remain Your Friend All Throughout The Year;
Michael
Unlike other recipients, who I am certain rip the envelope to shreds within 30 seconds after entering the house - if they even wait that long - in a frantic effort to extract the best of the holiday season, I leave the ones I receive to sit and marinade in their own juice of oddball, eclectic and often extremely whacked annual observations about to be shared by its author.
However, despite my hesitation, they must eventually be opened and read. Certainly, they could be tossed with the rest of the junk mail but I fear the authors may actually be able to tell who does so, sort of like the Naughty and Nice list of a twisted Santa prone to sending even more similar presents to the wrong side of that list.
Oh, these letters of renown are not without their charm nor are they totally devoid of humor. Case in point is this year's memorable description of the favored, music loving barn animals surrounded by Christmas decorations and their own special day stockings or the particularly vivid telling of killing a wild animal and secretly preparing it for the family's festive Christmas Eve dinner...without telling any of the guests how this road kill came to be in the freezer.
In all honesty I look forward to receiving these annual greetings, and will admit to opening the letter as soon as I remember to do so, which this year did in fact take one day.
As for this household, the dream is still being lived. I am one year older and am not exactly sure what that means yet but I think I am on the cusp going from trying to please everyone to entering the stage when I am done taking grief from people or suffering fools and idiots; I have earned the right to say what I really think. I promise to fully embrace this change in life with all the gusto I can muster in my dotage...if I remember to do so.
Apparently this is also the stage in life when instead of someone saying to me, “Wow, your (insert body part you are most proud of) is soooo hot!” they say, “Wow! You have really great veins! Now hold still when I insert this needle and soon we will have the results of all your lab work”. And the even dumber part is that I get all super proud of how great my veins look. This represents a sad change in my mentality and a lowering of my standards. Welcome to Old Age.
By now I suppose you are wondering about my partner in crime, Cindy. She is doing well but I was beginning to worry about her mental health. This fall I heard her screaming, "Get out of there, you Fat Ba$#*rd!!!" Initially thinking she was referring to me, I almost fled the house. But my curiosity got the better of me and I found her standing at the kitchen window apparently staring at nothing. Then I realized that she was trying to persuade a particularly large hummingbird to make way for a smaller bird so it could partake of the nectar within the feeder.
I don’t understand why we are spending big money on expensive bird feed, but then again I am not going to criticize her choice of bird feed or she just might begin to question my audio upgrades over the past year. I’ve learned after 30 years of marriage that there are just some things that you should shut up about.
Anyway, “Fat Ba$#*rd” is what Cindy has named the greedy bird and of course you can bet I am eyeing him for a 4Th of July BBQ next summer. C’mon over! You know that since Cindy is around the perfect wine selection will compliment the slowly roasted Fat Ba$#*rd. And for my part the correctly chosen marinade will be used for your culinary delight.
With Holiday Wishes Immortalized By Anyone You Care To Name, I Remain Your Friend All Throughout The Year;
Michael
