We meet again, oh devoted reader of our yearly drivel (and the hell with those of you who immediately toss it into the trash.) I hope this letter finds you safe and warm in your home, or at least warm - even if it's at the local homeless shelter. We've had a fairly decent year with the usual amount of joy mixed in with bitterness and senseless bickering.
We added to our family (temporarily) this past summer with a mass invasion of woodchucks whom Mother Nature picked off one by one except for the sole innocent we caught ourselves in a Hav-a-Heart trap, and which Charlie dispatched (code for " shot dead") into the Great Wooded Beyond.
Our neighborhood as of this weekend has welcomed one single mom and her two kiddos, which now tips the scales in the kids' favor vs the "older" residents. A moment of silence, please - because there sure as heck won't be any as we move into the New Year.
We visited San Francisco in November, which will most likely be our last official vacation since Trump and his band of a-holes plus Paul Ryan will see to it that retirement incomes will be restricted to the point that we realize we have become even more grateful for our three cats. You never know when they might come in handy - for a meal substitute and what-not.
Our children are well and happy - last we heard.
We had some nice, though compromising news here and there. Eileen's mom moved into her own assisted living apartment, and will proceed to spend an inheritance that would have been a boon to E and her five siblings. As Prez-elect might say -"sad." But the bright side is that her mom is now official Bingo Queen at Brookdale. Go, mommy!
Bad news waits for no one, and we had our share. We'd tell you, but our bad news might make YOU feel good and what's the point of that?
We are, at our ages, still able to put up our own Christmas tree and feed ourselves (no bibs required) but the situation could deteriorate on a dime, so stay tuned for next year’s letter. Have a happy!