It's holiday newsletter time.
Notice the lack of exclamation points. I'm just not feeling it quite yet. Could be the prednisone. (threw my back out)
Since the advent of Facebook, it seems less necessary than ever to even write a holiday newsletter. But I'm going to write one anyways, as soon as I can figure out what to put in it. I love my life and my family, but we aren't what you'd call intriguing*. I try to find some clever and creative way to do it, but even that can get a little old.
People always bitch about how there are never crappy things in holiday newsletters**. They're all wonderful this and terrific that and life is raining gold and rainbows. What else should we write about? How we got into a multitude of stupid arguments involving the proper method to fold socks? That people disappointed us? There were family spats and hurt feelings and sometimes J's job resembled a Dilbert Cartoon.*** There was a divorce, and hospital stays, health scares, nagging, passive-aggressiveness, annoying habits and a host of other things that are part real life but just don't belong in a holiday newsletter.
So I will write my newsletter, and the most down thing in it will be that DD doesn't say "memato" anymore for "tomato."
And that will just have to do.
*At least as far as you know. We could be secretly fascinating, but very private about it. Like Spiderman.
**Well, they do in advice columns. I like reading advice columns. Did you know that if you read enough of them, you discover that they run differently edited versions of the same letters? I don't know if all advice letters just go to a giant pool for columnists to pick from or if people who think that advice columns are the best way to go just have a tendency to write to ALL of them in hopes of getting a response. Either way, seeing the variety of responses can be amusing.
***All of his jobs have resembled a Dilbert cartoon at some point. All jobs do. If they didn't, Dilbert wouldn't be funny.