A Christmas Newsletter...
As the Christmas Season approaches it occurs to me that a Yuletide Newsletter would be the perfect way to say “Merry Christmas” to all of you from my little branch of the family bush. As you are all aware, our particular branch of the family tree does not fork, so I include Holiday Greetings from UncleCousinBrother Sean and his brood as well.
My ex-SIL is still enjoying her “holiday” at the Women’s Correctional Facility. I am aware that you were all advised that she was merely on an “extended vacation”. Get over it.
Since she has two children by two different daddies, I know you will rush
to open your hearts and homes to the soon-to-be-ex-convict who was arrested while attempting to blow up her own mothers home with a cocktail of lethal chemicals commonly used to manufacture chrystal methamphetamine. But not to worry, she was “set up” and disavows any knowledge of drug making. Please pay no attention to her many colorful prison tattoos and her face, which looks as if it went through a meat grinder.
We all hold out hope that her children will turn out to be normal, hardworking, taxpaying contributors to society. Their mother has already lined up several jobs when she gets out, as a stripper, the only profession for which she has any experience.
My 17 yo is NOT pregnant, has no tattoos, and made the honor roll. Unlike your daughter, who got knocked up and is now working her way through night school in the hopes of one day obtaining a job that will pay enough to cover the cost of the DNA test the baby daddy is now demanding.
I know some of you in our “We Do Not Recognize Divorce” family wondered how I could have left her father after so many years, but not to worry, he found love again in the arms of his brothers wife. Excuse me, ex-wife. It’s all right, though, because now he can claim her twins on his tax return. Never mind the fact that they are actually his and his brother unknowingly paid for the raising of them all those years. We’ll look on the bright side, shall we? When they get married, she won’t even have to change her last name. Yea~!
Mother is still telling everyone that she works for the CIA. Although I’ve
never heard of anyone actually ‘fessing up to working for that organization, since, you know, it’s primary mission is for the covert-ops to remain UNDERCOVER at all costs. We continue to humor her in the hope that one day her doctor will prescribe the right combination of meds that will put us out of her misery. Unfortunately, she quit drinking several years ago so our hopes of a possible liver failure have been dashed.
Today is Thanksgiving Day here in America, a day where families come together to stuff themselves with turkey and dressing, spike the punch when Aunt Esther isn't looking, turn a perfectly made up blind eye when Uncle Buck's boyfriend shows up, discuss in detail the never ending illnesses of Grandma Jenny and her goiter, and lumbago, and bunions. Get discretly drunk on wine that has been pilfered from the cellars and try to decide whether or not to tell your priest you're pregnant, or mearly just "fat" prior to his performing the shot-gun ceremony two weeks hence.
Anyway, Happy Holidays to one and all. I would write more, but I’ve just noticed my annual keg of Spiked Nog seems to be mysteriously empty. I can’t imagine how that happened.
