A Late Christmas Letter

You know those TMI (too much information) letters you get at Christmas from people you hardly know and they tell you all about their wows and woes, including info about their great uncle Shelton and his arthritic dog? Yeah, well, I decided to write one of those to all you out there in my blog world. So hang on to your hat, because here it comes.

Dear friend, family, or unfortunate soul who ended up on my card list. Even if you don’t know me, I’m positive you are still going to be delighted to hear my personal news.

A Big Fat Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from the Craig Household.

2009 has been a crazy year. We lost Aunt Velma. My heart still breaks when I think about it. Luckily, we found her in Wal-Mart. Still don’t know how she got there. The good news is she still had her clothes on. My dad had a few more health problems and his doctors scheduled a colonoscopy. Of course, the worse part of the test is all the prep work you have to do. (Though I hear the test itself isn’t a joy ride.) You know, drinking that yucky stuff, and then living on the pot for a day and half. Sadly, daddy got his test dates wrong and did all the prep work on a different day. However, I’m relieved to tell you that his test results came back great. Doc said he had the cleanest colon he’d ever seen.

My mom recovered from the break of both her ankles, but then she cracked a rib getting the clothes out of the washing machine. I know it’s hard to believe this could happen, but it did. She had one car accident (nothing is broken—but the car) and is considering getting her eyebrows tattooed on . . . again. My son went to Alabama for the month of November, came back home with one of those massaging, Lazy Boy chairs, a gift from his granddad. Over the holidays, son caught the can’t-run-fast-enough explosive stomach bug. Believe me when I say the chair will never be the same.

All our four cats are doing well, hairball count is down for the year and that’s something worth celebrating. Son’s rat, that is now about the size of a small possum, is still alive and kicking. The pet store so lied when they told him the life expectancy. Floppy Skivvies, the rabbit, only slightly larger than the rat, is still with us. He expects an apple and some broccoli daily and enjoys terrorizing the cats.

I accomplished a lot in 2009. Completed three books, lost ten pounds, found ten pounds, and became a grandma. Lily Dale is gorgeous and smart as a whip. She can say Grandma, Santa, Mama, Dada, and No. She also has decided to forego crawling and do what my daughter calls the Western “I’m-shot” Crawl. You know in the old western movies when a cowboy has been shot and manages to drag himself behind a tree so he won’t get shot again. Well, she’s a champion dragger.

With a Jan. 4th deadline on my first Young Adult, and revisions on my June 2010 book hitting smack dab in the middle of trying to get the book done, December was a trying month. I worked sixteen hours a day for a few weeks, forgot there was a holiday, gave up cooking, bathing was optional, housecleaning was out the window. I felt guilty about not cooking. Thank goodness the Big Chief in the sky decided to remove all traces of guilt. He killed my stove top. Hence, I couldn’t cook even if I’d wanted to.

Hubby got what he thought was a good inspiration. You know how his inspirations usually go, right? (Basically whatever he thinks is a clever idea, I think of as a brain fart.) Well, he bought me a new stove top on the 24th, put a big red bow on it and said Merry Christmas. Seriously, he did this!

I told hubby that I honestly thought the Big Chief had axed the stove top as a personal favor to me. And if “someone” didn’t get his bottom back to the Merry Friggin’ Mall and do some more Christmas shopping, the Big Chief and me were gonna have another talk about other things he could ax.

Anyway, you should see the gold and diamond necklace I got for Christmas. I also got socks, sweats, and a frying pan. (Yup, a frying pan!) But I let that one slide because hubby also got my three book covers from my Divorced & Desperate Series framed so I can hang them in my office. Now, that was a thoughtful gift and it makes him a keeper.

My sister-in-law decided to get clever this year, and she gave both hubby and me a snuggie. I have decided that the Surgeon General should be warned about this gift. Or at least, there needs to be warnings on the label.

1) Do not attempt to cook while wearing a snuggie, not even on a new stove top!

2) Do not attempt to have sex while wearing a snuggie—certain positions can lead to strangulation.

3) Do not attempt to walk while wearing a snuggie—hitting face first on wood floors is painful and hazardous to one’s nose—this is especially important for the vertically-challenged snuggie wearer. Hint: One size does not fit all!


Okay, so there you have it. My TMI Christmas letter to all my friends, family and other victims on my email list

How did your Holidays go? Come on, let’s share a bit or even too much.

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