I Wonder Why You Don't Call Me...

I was talking to True Blue today and it was decided that my family’s constant stream of drama should be put to music. The twangy kind that talks about mamas and gettin’ drunk and prison. I think a Christmas letter of the truly sarcastic sort (David Sedaris-style) should suffice. So here you go:

Happy holidays from our family! Since so many of you are either Jewish, Buddhist, Hindu or Atheist, we’ve decided to dispel the notion of Merry Christmas. It just isn’t right to go on about something that really just boils down to one day off from work and maybe some annual Chinese food for the recipients. So let’s just call this a hello and update of the uber-friendly kind – that just happens to coincide with the biggest commercial retail season of the year. (And if you think that sending me those e-mails that go on about being politically correct because I vote democrat will help – it doesn’t. It just pisses me off. I mean, I don’t send you anything about thumping bibles, killing abortion doctors or picking wars with oil-heavy nations just because you vote republican, now do I? But I have heard that writing about politics in a seasonal greeting letter isn’t kosher. Or really any kind of nagging/bragging/arguing since that defeats the purpose of a happiness-to-all greeting of this sort. So I’ll stop there. ☺)

The year started off pretty well. Work was slow for me, and since we hadn’t put anything in savings, we luckily qualified for free lunch. Miss 6 didn’t go hungry for a single day and also had her many friends to mooch off of at play dates. And even though Beanie was close to done with nursing, we stood in line for free formula and it all worked out. Those nice people from the mortgage company just kept calling to check in. Every day. Very thoughtful.

I had a second gall bladder attack just after Miss 6 turned 6. I met with the internist the day after our dog got skunked and stunk up the whole office. I think she recommended the surgery just to get me out of there as fast as possible. That was fine though. And our new insurance plan under the acquisition of the hubby’s company took effect just in time for us to get to pay over $2K out-of-pocket for pulling out that little sack of bile. Luckily I was able to get trashed only a week after the surgery without any significant damage. Life was safely still intact even if I technically wasn’t.

We decided to get away to Santa Fe for the hubby’s 40th birthday and flew out my mom to watch the girls. She and my step-dad hadn’t acknowledged each other in months, so he didn't notice when she left. The downside was that the brother and wife decided having her alone and in a strange place would be the ideal opportunity to assail her with every unhappy thought they had thunk — but had been keeping in — for years. So the first night we called to check in, she was curled in a ball rocking back and forth. We thought, “She’ll be okay since she’s been through this with her mom, dad, and both prior husbands.” And decided to keep on celebrating. The girls were able to take care of themselves pretty well. And even though social services had to come and check in each day, we had a good vacation overall.

The next month was when we found out that my step-dad had been cheating on my mom with a biker babe. The good news was that CIALIS WORKS! The bad news? The nearby river is now littered with all of the evidence. I heard from someone who swears they saw a beaver wearing black lace panties and talking on a cell phone. Hmmm...

What with all of the warmth and love between them, the brother decided, “What the hell?! I think I’ll move back south! And be close to mom!” It made my heart soar to think that they’d be close enough to have their exciting and highly productive discussions in person. And regularly.

My grandmother was awoken by a burglar and scared him off with her .357 magnum. As she fumbled for and turned on the light, he took one look at the revolver leveled at his chest and leapt back through the window from whence he came shouting, “No ma’am! No ma’am!” I kept waiting for the Pistol-Packin’ Grandma headlines, but was really disappointed by the lack of news coverage. At least the dude had manners.

Then she had a nose bleed that didn’t stop for a month. When they shined a light up there, they found that she had no septum. We still can’t figure out where that thing went. I can’t imagine that something like that would just slip out if you blew too hard without you noticing. I don’t think she’ll be picking her nose any more though. It's just too risky.

We went back for a visit late in the summer and I spent the whole time in therapy with my mom. It was good though. Even if all sorts of people saw our car parked there and now avert their eyes when they see us. If you openly park your car in front of a known therapist’s office there, you might as well throw your mistress’s black panties into a river right where a beaver will find them, you know?

Then we had mom come here again while we went away to a work event. The brother had moved already, so they only called once or twice to tell her how much they hate her. It was so much easier to hear over the phone so social services didn’t have to help out with the kids at all. It went really well. They waited until she got back to really let her have it for not being there when they moved in. We tried to explain that we couldn’t leave the kids alone since the sister-in-law decided to move with the brother and wouldn’t be here to babysit as was the original plan, but they still got mad. It’s really just mom’s fault anyway. If they didn’t love each other so much and enjoy each other’s company like they do, they wouldn’t have had to move to begin with.

It wasn’t until recently that they had their real talk. The brother decided that since he couldn’t call mom and berate her while his daughter was there and be okay with social service helping out, his daughter just couldn’t see mom at all. Mom agreed. It’s so great how well they all get along now that they live so close.

And after that big breakthrough, another burglar came and kicked in the door at my parents’ house. After spending a good 20 minutes emptying drawers, scattering mine and the brother’s baby teeth across the floor, rifling through mom’s underwear drawer, dumping out cabinets, etc. he took some handguns and jewelry and left. Luckily mom was coming home at that same moment (ADT called to say her front door was open) and saw him walking down the street. The police chased him and he ran into a bank. Unfortunately for him, those handguns were loaded and his home robbery turned into attempted bank robbery. Jewelry and all the stuff he took from the house got scattered all over the bank lobby while the police had to ‘subdue’ him. Here’s what he looks like post tasering and subduing: THE DUDE (You may need to pick 12/18, go to the second page of bookings and pick Joshua Kerner.) Handsome devil...Unfortunately, we won’t be able to set him up with mom because he’ll be in prison for a while. But I’ll keep you posted.

My half-brother sold my dad’s house this year – and the sell price included my dad’s body, coffin and grave. It was really a sweet deal. The grave was DHEC-approved and everything. It’s not every day that you get a package like that. And my half-brother doesn’t even have to worry about keeping up the gravesite now. He was really thinking. Now he has this mansion in my hometown and has been heard explaining how he recently ‘came into some money.’ Good for him. It’s nice when things work out like that. That your dad dies and happens to have written his other two kids out of his will – so you get all three shares. Then you get to skip that whole father’s day chore of taking flowers to pay your respects and thank him – again – for his incredible generosity because you sell the land he’s buried on. And even though this part-brother hasn’t passed the CPA exam yet, he’s already proven his financial wizardry. Smart.

The hubby’s parents were hit by a drunk driver en route to their annual holiday wine deliveries. It was lucky because the front bumper broke, but the wine bottles didn’t. (That would have been awkward to explain to the cops.) But the real drunk dude, who was trying to pass them on the dirt shoulder of a two-lane highway while drunk at 8 a.m., mangled his car to unrecognizable – then jumped from the twisted metal and ran for the woods. They never did find him, but at least he was thoughtful enough to leave his insurance info behind. That's the holiday spirit!

We’ve been busy buying presents and such. We got my grandma a holster for her gun and a woodchipper for mom. My step-dad went missing and she really, really wanted one. So what the heck. We also found this really cool cake for our nephew who’s in prison. These really nice people (who specialize in fillings according to their website) said it has a “customized surprise” in the middle. He’s really going to like it.

Now it’s almost Christmas and the whole family will be gathering at my grandmother’s house to compare tattoos, get drunk and share “scrapes with the law” stories over a breakfast of eggs, grits, bacon and biscuits. We are so bummed that we’ll miss it. But they hate our eggs anyway because we put two kinds of cheese in ours. So that would have been hard.

Plus, Miss 6 is worried that the bad guy will try to come to breakfast and she doesn’t even have a tattoo yet to show. I hate for her to feel left out. And since my step-dad doesn’t return her repeated calls, she hasn’t even gotten to hear about the beaver yet. That would just make her mad anyway because she needs new panties really bad.

Happy holidays, ya’ll. I hope next year is a little more eventful. This was a really boring year overall.

DISCLAIMER: While this letter may have been based on actual events, I cannot be held accountable for my fictional inserts. You know how it works. Especially if you’ve ever watched an episode of Law & Order. Chung-chung.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: You Never Even Called Me By My Name. David Allan Coe. Well I was drunk the day my mom got out of prison. And I went to pick her up in the rain. But before I could get to the station in my pickup truck. She got run'd over by a damned old train.