Christmas Letters - Holy Cow, again.

It's the time for Christmas letters again.  Those wonderful notes stuffed inside cards that let you know how incredibly well everyone is doing.  How smart their kids are.  Did you know they all got accepted to Ivy league schools? Oh and the dog was accepted along with them.  We traded our sailboat in for a 12 man Catamaran, you should come sailing with us if you ever get up to the Hampton's.  Did we  forget to tell you Sally went to the Olympics and was voted bluest eyes.

Yes, our grass is green, always.  Our kids are smart, beautiful, talented, overwhelmingly magnificent, polite and have all achieved Eagle Scout, never mind that the youngest is 4.  He's a genius.

Our animals are purebred perfection and cuter than a June bug in July.  Why Rover can bark the alphabet.

I'm into macrobiotic  antibacterial, anti-fungal  new fangle eating.  I've lost 360 pounds.  Never mind that I only weighed 155.  It's the accomplishment that counts you know.

George has been asked to the white house.  Isn't that spectacular?  He might be offered an ambassadorship..., to anywhere.  It doesn't matter.  He came from nothing and look how far he's come.

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I hate those letters and for a brief moment in time, I hate those people.  Yes, you read me right.  So for posterity, here is my Christmas letter.  May it brighten your Christmas this year.

**I'm going to do in bullet form, easier that way**

1. Both children are still living at home and as far as I can gather have no intention of ever leaving.  Why should they?  Beerhound and I are the worst parents in the world.  We should never had children.  We speak tough but we tire out easily.  They just wear us down.  NO, they don't really do any work. Oh, they work and make money and go to school but we don't see any of the money and we're paying off student loans while they are hoarding their stash, picking up after them, feeding them, buying their clothes and generally doing whatever they want just to get them to stop whining at us.

**Don't try to lecture me here.  My therapist does enough of that for the entire world but I adore her anyway.

2. We still have 3 dogs, 5 cats - we were almost off the hook when Duncan, Satan Cat, finally died but now Emma brought home the Evil Oliver.  Evil I tell you, EVIIILLL. - 4 guinea pigs and 6 fish.  We do own 2 horses but they don't live with us therefore, they don't pee or poop in our house.  They don't throw up on our carpets.

Which reminds me, we have none because we have had to throw them all away.

3. We can't seem to get the flea problem under control.  We have an entire section of our budget allocated just for flea control products.  They don't work.  It's the second coming of fleas here or they are zombies and therefore just can not be killed.

4. We're still driving the Hyundai.  Yes sir, 10 years old and still trucking.  Looks decent.  We love him and he keeps on chugging.  The girls own a nasty old ford that they never clean so the trash is seat high.  I don't ride in it.  I don't stand next to it.  We did buy a new Honda Minivan but that's a downgrade because I swore I would never buy a minivan again but horses are like babies.  They come with a huge amount of stuff.

5. The house is falling apart and I have a toilet in a box in my hallway upstairs.  It has been blocking my linen closet for over a month.  Beerhound insists that he will get around to taking care of it.  Notice I'm not holding my breath.  I'll just put a table cloth over it and call it a big end table in the hall.

Enough for now.  I'm already depressed and need to go make a cocktail.  It's 11:30 am.  I'm wearing sweats and Professional Bull Riding t-shirt but I do have pearls on so that qualifies me for a cocktail moment!

 

Susan

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