As you might’ve noticed from your calendar, Christmas is this week. Yikes. If news has gotten too depressing, and you need some holiday-themed content, here it is. I’ve stepped out of my usual format to present you with that most important of holiday traditions: the holiday form letter.
Dearest friends and family,
It is time yet again for that grand tradition, the holiday form letter. You know the drill. Time is too short to write you all personally, so, I’m “licking and sticking” this colorful copier created missive of good cheer and identical sentiments into envelopes, with a pleasant looking card.
Let’s see. I should start with the big news: I’ve been writing a weekly humor column! I’ve managed to go a full year, and so far, I’m still alive!
I know that most of you were hoping the big news would be something like “I’m engaged!” ME too. If for no other reason than to stop people asking when I’m ever going to find some guy and have some kids. It’s ok. I heard you. Let me tell you, it’d make writing these annual letter much easier if I could fill 90% of the space with the exploits of my genius children, who will, undoubtedly, cure cancer, become President of the United States, perform an aria at the Met, and win “Top Chef.” And that’s just my daughter.
Have you ever noticed that everyone glosses over the unpleasant and difficult things that happened in the year in these letters? Me too!
For those of you who were worried that my “big news” (above, for those of you skimming this) meant, essentially, that I am unemployed and eating at soup kitchens, cheer up! I’m not in any danger of needing to move in with you or asking for donations. I’m still working at my day job, at the Colorado Community College System. Which means that donations are welcome, but not necessary.
I’ve been working on the family photo project. I know, you all had thought that I’d forgotten, and that you’ll never see those pictures again, or that I’ve decided to hold them hostage and send out ransom notes and… Well. That’s not a half-bad idea. I’ll contact you with the details.
I almost wish I had pets, so that I had something more to put in this letter. Granted, you’re not likely to be any more interested in the antics of my furry companions as you are my imaginary children, but, at least it would fill the space.
Look! I’m at 7.8”! That means it’s time to tell you all how much I love you and that I wish each of you a wonderful holiday, filled with good food, good friends and family.
Thanks for being part of my life, and for reading the whole letter before filing it in the recycle bin. You did mean to put it in the recycling bin, right? You weren’t just going to throw it out?
All the best,
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