Merry Christmas

‘Twas a month before Christmas and at the golf course,
The husband was Cablinasian, the wife she was Norse (okay Swedish, but really, what’s the difference?).
The Escalade was parked by the escape route with care,
but mistakenly left were the golf clubs too near.
The confession was composed and rehearsed in his head
About his transgressions in emails she read
When, what to Tiger’s wandering eye did appear,
but the crashing of one image perfect career.
She spoke not a word but went straight to her work
Of swinging and hacking away at this jerk (*allegedly)
And laying a finger aside of his nose
To make sure it didn’t fall off on his clothes
He sprang to his Caddie, turned on the ignition
Which may not have been the best choice in his condition (*allegedly)
He flew out the garage and off down the driveway he took
But instead of a slice, the drive was a hook
In the trees he did land after contact with water
She hit him some more with the swing he had taught her
And I heard him exclaim as he lay on the ground
“How much will it cost to keep me around?”

The one constant, regardless of the state of the economy, or which party is in power, or the status of the US in world affairs, is that 100 times the collective effort needed to understand the dynamics of these complex, life-changing topics will be spent chasing a good sleazy story. Here is our story for the last year, albeit not really that sleazy.

Son is now a senior in high school, and with the help of the fortuitous combination of receiving a good grade on an honors math test while the school’s discipline tsar was subbing, finally showed the tsar that he was capable of productive use of his brain and energy. With respect to college admissions applications, much of the year has been spent trying to figure out how to spin the same essay so that it answers every college’s individual request. Who would have thought “Who has had the most positive influence on you?” and “Describe your favorite villain and why?” could be answered with the same 500 words.

Daughter started high school this year and despite all the initial anxiety, is adapting nicely. One of the things that helped her transition was joining the cross country team. There is nothing as disquieting as watching a bunch of teenage girls spewing bodily fluids and passing out as they reach for the finish line, while at the same time trying to keep their make-up from smearing.

Mom and Dad have become helicopter parents. Not the type that takes over at the earliest inkling of a problem, but more like a friendly-firing, Apache attack helicopter that nags the kids into solving their own problems.

So that you won’t think reading this Xmas letter is a complete waste of time, we would like to introduce an educational portion. This year’s topic is Newton’s First Law of Motion, which states: A body at rest (like Dad’s bicycle with the brakes applied) will continue to stay at rest, and a body in motion (like Dad before and after said brakes were applied) will continue to stay in motion, until acted upon by an external force (in this case, pavement.) The result of Dad’s little physics experiment was a broken elbow. This was addressed with a half a box of Erector Set pieces being implanted in his arm. And in an example of how the healthcare system really works, during surgery the doctor intentionally broke and fixed another perfectly good bone while attending to the broken one. Unfortunately, the incision did not totally heal so Dad spent the better part of two months with metal pieces sticking out of his elbow. To fix this problem, in another stroke of healthcare mind-boggletry, a plastic surgeon was brought in to play a macabre game which will be referred to as “musical skin”. This game involves moving pieces of skin from one part of the body to other parts of the body until the insurance company stops paying. As a result, Dad no longer has a problem telling his ass from his elbow as they are now both in the same place. Strange as it may seem, this was better than the initial option proposed. In that option, Dad’s elbow was to be surgically attached to his stomach for 3 weeks. While granted there is skin the size of wallpaper rolls to be had there, the hand coming out of a stomach seemed more like an homage to the “Alien” movies.

And so, another year in the economic doldrums is coming to an end. Seems like just yesterday… blah, blah, blah. OK, so things aren’t great for everyone. The country needs jobs. Here is a plan; anyone willing to join is welcome. In order to take advantage of the Baby Boomers increasing slide into their (g)olden years, let’s create a new company. Our suggestion is that the company be named, “Prune”, to compete against another company named after a fruit. It would help if we could find someone named Steven Jobsless to be our CEO; but that’s not a necessity. The product will be a sleeping vessel, something like a sleeping bag with a built in mattress that can be taken anywhere. Reflecting our increasing inability to keep up with the modern world we can call it an “I-plod” and market it as the solution to any problem brought on by old age. Our slogan: “There’s a nap for that.” Just an idea.

Merry Christmakwanzakkuh,