I don't send Christmas cards, and after years of this anti-social behavior I don't get Christmas cards either. I certainly don't send out a Christmas newsletter, but I love getting them and reading them. "Our youngest, Amy, has proved to be a challenge, but we are sure she soon will find as much success in school as her older siblings." You think, "My God what did Amy do this year that no one can find a kind word to say about her?"
After Mom's kids were grown she starting sending out a Christmas newsletter, in inimitable Queen Mother fashion. This is her newsletter from 1997:
It has been an eventful year.
In January David flew from Albuquerque to meet a woman he had been visiting with via the Internet. They liked what they saw and were married within the week. They settled down in Steelville.
At some point lightning struck their trailer and fried all Dave's media and electronic stuff as well as his computer. He then took a hard look at his surroundings and with his wife's encouragement departed from the silent scenic Ozarks for the fast track here in St. Louis.
As luck would have it I had shattered my right upper arm, elbow and wrist in March and thought it might not be a bad idea for Dave to hang out here. He agreed, so we fixed a little apartment in the room behind the garage and we got all his media repaired, replaced, and humming again. He finally settled down enough to get divorced and on Dec. 23 got that over with.
On another note my dearest friend and mother-in-law died in September. Her mind was bright as a penny up to the end, when her 92 year old body failed her. She wasn't here to share my concerns when Ellen was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.
"STOP!" you say. "This is the most discouraging, depressing letter for anyone to send out at the most joyful time of year." Well, you could imagine that if you didn't know better. Actually, both my kids have been there for me in ways I would never have dreamed possible. David is just the most handy person I ever have lived with. He can fix plumbing, electrical things, empty gutters, caulk, shop, cook, and clean. The list is endless. And Ellen ... "
(Edited to fit your screen.)
I am proud to say that people always crack up when they get to the part about my MS. You did too, didn't you? It's okay.
I'm not having the best month so far, myself, nor is Mom. I think what I need is just one more little thing to push it over the edge into hilarity...
How can I help, dear?
Posted by: Marcia | December 16, 2006 at 09:51 AM
Believe me, if you could have helped I would have marched over, pounded on your desk and demanded it.
Posted by: TheQueen | December 16, 2006 at 11:16 AM
If it's any consolation, there is a God. And He/She loves me. My sister was too sick to drive up this weekend, so it looks like the dysfunctional family Hanukkah will be pleasantly less dysfunctional than previously thought.
Although, I have learned in my day that God has a sick sense of humor. (See Thanksgiving 2003.)
Posted by: Marcia | December 16, 2006 at 06:30 PM
So the electronics were friend and Ellen has MS, but it was really quite the upbeat year!
Add in about 30 typos and multiple references to God, and you have my husband's aunt's annual letter. I'll try to find it and show you. It's a scream.
Posted by: Caroline | December 17, 2006 at 09:53 PM
By the way, now we can add Hanukkah 2006 to the list. I stand corrected about the dysfunctional family Hanukkah being pleasantly less dysfunctional without my sister.
It was, in fact, far more dysfunctional than ever could have possibly been imagined.
Posted by: Marcia | December 17, 2006 at 10:01 PM
You mean, as in:
http://pitchererror.blogspot.com/2006/12/happy-hanukkah-to-me.html
?
You know, at this moment, Caroline is reading my blog, I'm reading your blog, and You're reading my blog. Really, if we were articulate we could just use telephones.
Posted by: TheQueen | December 17, 2006 at 10:03 PM
Damn, Marcia, you're making me reconsider calling in sick for work. I feel like shit and really need to see a doctor, but dysfunctional Hannukah? Decisions, decisions.
Posted by: Caroline | December 17, 2006 at 10:04 PM
I KNOW. I'm going to drag my hacking, puking self in just to hear. And there are seven more days of the unspellable holiday!
Posted by: TheQueen | December 17, 2006 at 10:06 PM
I'll tell you the same thing I said to Sue last week. GO TO THE DOCTOR!
Posted by: Marcia | December 17, 2006 at 10:06 PM
Well, I am. Only I'm going in to see him for the Skin Cancer.
Posted by: TheQueen | December 17, 2006 at 10:07 PM
And, yes, as in that post. I wish I could find the humor in in like I did last time, but that's not happening.
Posted by: Marcia | December 17, 2006 at 10:11 PM
Skin Cancer?
I figure I probably need antibiotics. 1) I went through 2 boxes of kleenex in one day and felt like a science experiment. 2) My mom announced, during a cell phone call with lousy reception, that I sounded infected.
Exactly how does one sound infected? Although, all 300 of the kleenex I used Saturday do seem to support her theory.
Marcia, I just read your blog. I'm sorry.
Posted by: Caroline | December 17, 2006 at 10:11 PM
Excuse me? Skin Cancer?
Posted by: Marcia | December 17, 2006 at 10:12 PM
Thanks, Caroline. :-(
Posted by: Marcia | December 17, 2006 at 10:13 PM
People. I am torn. I want to make this a virtual on-line support group here in the comments section, but I also want to go to bed and sleep on the heating pad.
Posted by: TheQueen | December 17, 2006 at 10:15 PM
Go to bed. Get well, k?
Posted by: Marcia | December 17, 2006 at 10:19 PM