One thing I hate even more than the current gang of thieves in Ottawa is the annual Christmas Newsletter brag sheet. You know the type…when people who couldn’t be bothered to pick up a phone all year long suddenly feel you can’t possibly survive another day without knowing their intimate business.
Have you ever noticed that nothing BAD ever happens to these people? Where is the heartbreaking stuff? The flunked tests? WHERE ARE ALL THE STUPID FINANCIAL DECISIONS?
Luckily, I’m learning to read between the lines. Here is my version of what really happened:
Hello to all our dear friends! Here it is, Christmas time once more, and I still haven’t gotten around to spring cleaning again. Oh well – good thing nobody ever comes here. They wouldn’t be able to get around the empty cases of brew in the front hall.
I’m happy to report that things are back to normal after Ted broke his leg trying to resist arrest. It was all a silly mistake; he never would have smashed into the cruiser if they’d had their lights on. Luckily they have terrific medical facilities in the Don Jail, and Ted is on the mend.
And just when you thought it couldn’t happen, young Wally flunked grade 10 for the third time. The Principal seems to think this is a record, which just goes to show that Wally can be outstanding when he puts his mind to it.
You may have heard that we’ve added a son-in-law to the family. We also have a new grandchild, who arrived about the same time. The birth was easier than the wedding, and luckily the father of the bride missed both, as he was otherwise detained <see above>.
Dear Grandpa is just a spry as ever. He totters around town waving to all the girls and showing them his new trench coat. He’s really proud of the plaid lining, too.
Aren’t families wonderful. And as for me…well you may have heard about Ted’s last foray into the stock market before he lost his job. They took the house, but I still have the dog, and frankly, except for a little touch of pneumonia, we do fine on Queen Street.
Well, that’s it for now. How was your year?