2001
Another year, another Christmas letter. But what to brag about in light of recent national tragedies? Pretty much the same stuff. If we Americans stop bragging then the terrorists win.
Alex spent the last year playing indoor soccer, outdoor soccer, floor hockey, wrestling, teeball, learning to swim (sort of), and playing Nintendo 64. Now in first grade, he is learning to read and do all that scholastic stuff too. We got a call from his teacher on day two of school, but, technically, that’s not something to brag about. The reading thing is pretty cool. He’s also preparing for his first communion which, along with Tiger Scouts, serves as a nice counterbalance to Cartoon Network, N64, and the XFL. He’s hoping Santa brings him a GameCube.
Emily, now in kindergarten, loves dancing and singing more than ever, and is in a dance class. Unfortunately, she exhibits the talents of an exotic dancer. Along those lines, she dressed as Britney Spears (sans cleavage) for Halloween. She is continuing with a "KinderMusic" class (she learns about notes and rhythm; no, I'm not making it up, and yes, we pay for it) and has joined Daisy Scouts. She also spends a great deal of time cutting and drawing, destroying paper by the ream. One person’s craft is another’s waste of time. With all that she manages to find time for six boyfriends. She is now officially grounded.
Mary and I both have our same jobs and the same projects. Work is work, and going to the office is quiet time for us. Like most people we know, we have raised “keeping busy” to an art form, as the previous two paragraphs suggest. Mary quit her Sweet Adelines choir to increase family time and make it possible for me to coach most of Alex’s sports teams and lead the Tiger Den. She’s been teaching Sunday school at the church while I sing in the church choir. Mary finds time to garden and decorate the house while I pick up after the dog. Here are some numbers to back up our claims of busy-ness:
| Category | 1999 | 2000 | 2001 |
|---|---|---|---|
| Percentage of total carpeting stained as a result of allowing the kids to eat or drink stuff that should have stayed in the kitchen, or because the dog is a big, stinky, mud monster | 22% | 38% | 43% |
| Amount, in metric tons, of fast food spilled inside of a vehicle while driving to an event for which we are already late | 2 | 3 | 7 |
| Average number of hours of sleep per family member (includes the dog, but not the cats, because the cats sleep 23 hours a day). | 9.1 | 8.8 | 6.7 |
| Number of Afghan refugees that could survive off the food that rots in our kitchen if only we would prepare it. | 2 | 7 | 83 |
I have an agent for the novel, which you may sample at http://manintheageofmainframes.com . Hopefully, Cambridge Literary Associates will dig up a publisher so that my writing does not remain yet another piece of crap cluttering up the internet. The next story is a slim, autobiographical thing called “Fat, Drunk, and Stupid.” I haven’t done much writing of late because, well, I’ve been busy.
A sad note: we lost our dog Blue to a bum kidney. He was a good dog to the very end. Sigh. So we got a puppy, another Standard Poodle. His name is Shaggy.
Hope all is well with all who read this. God bless you, everyone.