This means that I have to do a balancing act on said recliner, to get the box down. Not an easy feat, since the box is buried under various paraphernalia such as six decks of cards, in case we have a large crowd over to play cards, Dominoes, a bag of what's left of tinker toys (in case I feel like being a kid again I guess), a bag full of Mr. Potato Head parts, and a bag full of another game's parts. So, imagine me, if you will, standing on tippy toes, rocking the chair, grabbing on to the wall for balance every now and then, and trying to reach up and grab all this crap and throw it on the couch just to get the damn box of cards. Yeah. So now you know why I put it off. I looked a little like this. Just without the f***ing tutu. And I have more teeth.
You might ask why I just didn't ask my big, strong, 6'2" husband to just reach up and grab the box down? A) Because I'm stubborn; and B) (READ THE REAL REASON) Because I didn't want to hear him say, "You've GOT to get rid of some of this CRAP! We have TOO much WEIGHT in the trailer!"
You know EXACTLY what I'm thinking, ladies! If HE left, there would be about 10 hardcover books, 50 paperbacks, and 5 games worth of weight I could fill right back up with, easily!
Anyway, I digress. I was talking about Christmas cards. Each year I debate whether to send them or not, but then I break down and send them because I really like to receive them myself.
I hand address every one because it seems a lot more personal that way. I don't mind using the return address labels, though. And thank GOD for self-adhesive stamps. Remember back in the days when we had to LICK all those stamps? By the time I was done with my Christmas cards, my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth! I was speechless for awhile. I think those were Jim's best moments, looking back!
I always write a newsletter telling everyone what has happened to Jim and me, and our family during the past year. It's been a lot easier since the kids have grown, and we've been on the road. I can write about the places we've seen, people we've visited, etc.
But back when the kids were growing up, it was hard. Here's why. I had normal, every day kids. Yeah. I'm ashamed. They didn't get straight A's in school, they didn't excel in sports, and they sucked at playing any instruments. I hated when I got those letters from friends bragging about their kids and all their accomplishments. "Why my little Suzie is SO SMART, she has made honor roll all 3 semesters. And she takes tap and ballet lessons!" Blah, blah, blah. Reading it made me throw up in my mouth a little bit. I mean, geez, I'm happy for you, really, but can you tone it down a bit? Is it wrong of me to pray to God that that kid is a little shit to her parents? IS IT?
Don't get me wrong. I had (have) great kids. BUT THEY WERE NORMAL, AVERAGE KIDS. My son played soccer when he was little, but didn't continue in school. My daughter started out playing soccer, but quit after the third game after I made her pee in a bush because there were no bathrooms in the park and she had to go potty. She never forgave me for this - she had a stubborn streak and refused to play soccer ever again. She was 5. She was on cross country and track in high school. Was she the fastest? No. But she enjoyed herself.
So, I was at a loss what to write in those damn Christmas letters. Let's see...Hmmm...I could have lied, but that's not me. I just left things out. Like the time my son was a freshman and got suspended from school because he wrote the word "Goofy" on a locker. It was considered vandalism. Yeah. I know. Kind of a rough punishment for that. I mean, he didn't write, "fuck you", or he didn't write, "Why did Mickey Mouse have Minnie committed? Because she was fucking GOOFY." No. He wrote the word "Goofy". That's it. So yeah. I left that little tidbit out of the Christmas letter.
So thankfully now I write about our travels, and one or two lines about my kids. I still get a letter or two from those same people, but now it's about their grandchildren, and how they are such whiz kids, future presidents, blah, blah, blah.
I have to go. I must finish my Christmas cards and write my Christmas letter. Maybe I could make up some good lies about Jim and me......
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