Every year, I get Christmas newsletters from people who use the forum to boast about their unbelievably perfect lives. It's always the expensive schools their children are attending, grandiose vacations, the dog with pockets, or the often-ballyhooed promotions. And some actually send Christmas cards decorated with vacation photos that are essentially saying, "Look at us; aren't we swell. We've been to the islands and sat next to Ron Popiel on the plane, and this makes us better than most everybody else who hasn't been to the islands and doesn't know Ron Popiel, especially you, you poor bastard."
From the get-go, I'd hoped this would be my year. As far back as last January, I planned to do some stuff worth trumpeting about in a Christmas newsletter. As it turned out, I got sidetracked by many things that prevented my true wonderful self from shining through the muck.
HERE'S SOME OF THE CLUTTER THAT NIBBLED AWAY AT MY QUEST FOR NOTABLE ACHIEVEMENTS:
--Recklessly toyed with a cranberry pie recipe that necessitated continual testing.
--There were several late night cable channels offering abundant opportunities for viewing reruns of the Cisco Kid.
--A pesky squirrel needed constant shooing to keep him away from the bird feeder.
--The laundry just piled up, despite my disregarded policy of everyday being swimsuit day.
--Angry bees made a nest at the side door, giving rise to the Great Bee War, requiring a daily flurry of swatting and raucous language.
AND HERE'S WHAT MADE TRAVELING TO EXOTIC DESTINATIONS IMPOSSIBLE:
--I spent most of my travel dollars at the Presbyterian Spring Carnival, trying to win a stuffed monkey.
--Who in their right mind could leave a mailbox chocked full of exciting free offers, every day.
--Discovered, through a recent photo, that I look less than rakish in shorts.
--Kitty's Kandle Nook had a sale almost every week on a different scented candle.
--Someone always had to be home to jiggle the handle on the toilet.
SOMETIMES IT'S THE LITTLE THINGS THAT HIGHLIGHT A YEAR:
--The pipes in the kitchen wall stopped making that creaking noise.
--The stain on our porch morphed into a likeness of Micky Dolenz.
--At last, the forgetful Ruth Prickett returned my Cagney and Lacey salad tongs.
--Took a ride in Lu Lu Gilkey's convertible.
--Almost bought a kayak.
--Snagged a free parking space at the Mott the Hoople reunion show.
--Saw Sally Struthers in line at the Popcorn Shack.
There you have it. While it may seem like a bunch of excuses and whatnot, it's rather a delicate balance that allows me to carry on in harmony with my own unfulfilled grand expectations. Next year will be different; I'm staying away from those scurrilous Presbyterians and their alluring carnival games.
