Hope you’ve done your shoplifting, er, shopping and sent out all your Christmas cards. I’m way behind on my Christmas cards. As a matter of fact, as you will note these cards say, “Have a Happy, Prosperous and Healthy 2005,” but I was able to draw a line across the five and make it look like an eight.
This last year has been eventful for our family, full of many blessings, achievements, and its share of colorful tribulations.
Our son, Chris, was promoted in August to manager of the local McDonald’s. He has been very good to Ted and I, providing lavish gifts and a delightful caregiver, who occasionally kites checks. He gives me a lot of bling, including a diamond and emerald brooch last Mother's Day that’s to die for. His clothes are the snazziest in Radiation Springs; he buys T-shirts from a guy named Fred Seagull. They look like something from the 99¢ store, but they cost hundreds of dollars. These kids! He just bought a persimmon-orange Cadillac Escalade last month. How he manages to do all this on his McDonald’s salary is beyond me, but I never was good in math.
My husband, Ted, is enjoying a Renaissance after retirement and is finally getting around to activities he'd wanted to do his whole life. Like fishing and hunting. He will try to think up my name and spend five minutes hunting for it. Then he will go back to slobbering in front of the plasma TV set. Then he’ll yell, “Dottie, where’s the moose?” Bless his heart.
His fine mind is intact, tho’, and he shows his characteristic curiosity, frequently asking “What day is this?” and “Who are you?” We've managed to take four cruises this year and save a lot of money. For instance, the
People at church say, “Dottie, what can I do to help? It must be no bed of roses.” I just smile and ask them if they can recommend a hit man.
The week before Christmas the weirdest thing happened. Chris's new Escalade blew up in the pizza parlor parking lot, as they were inside having a children’s party. All the windows were blown out and a few pepperoni pizzas got burnt to a crisp. The Escalade was blown to smithereens. We count our blessings and are so, so grateful that neither Chris nor the grandkids were inside, or they would have been pulverized very badly. (Bertha, our daughter-in-law was also spared.)
Chris hasn't an enemy in the world, unless it was a customer angry over not enough pickles on his Quarter Pounder or the coffee being too hot. Maybe the bomb was meant for somebody else who owned the Escalade before. But Chris got it showroom-new from the dealership; it still had dealer plates on it when it got blown up. Bertha thinks it was some Eco-Terrorists. Can you imagine Eco-Terrorists in Radiation Springs? Heck, we don't even have an environment here; we have to go out of town for that.
The sheriffs appeared on our doorstep the day after Christmas to question us. Turns out they weren't here about the car explosion but were curious about my attempts to solicit a hit man at the church social. And they observed my recent habit of leaving Ted alone in the car with keys in the ignition and the motor running. They have arrested me on attempted murder charges. Can you believe without bail?
Our dear Melissa is now with child, a great blessing.
How these young ones grow up! It would be nice to know who the father is, but Melissa “sowed her wild oats,” as they say, and the field of candidates is slightly larger than the offense for the Dallas Cowboys. Christ has promised to pull some strings with the prosecutor, but I may still be behind bars when I become a great grandmother this spring. Oh well.
Love and may all of you all have a blessed year!
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