Keshia: Last time we hung out you told me to go away and not to touch you.

Dylan: Keshia, you hit me in the balls!

Dear Friends–

As the holiday season draws to a close I find myself moved to write my first festive mass-mailing. I know you’ll all be surprised at my uncharacteristic seasonal cheer. This year marked the first time my mother sent out a Christmas letter as well. I didn’t receive a copy but I’m sure it was very nice. She did call several times to fact-check, the children’s ages and whatnot.

Tonight was present opening night at our father’s with my sister and her fiance Kevin, an accomplished chef. The stage was set for an interesting night as we walked through the door to the rousing scent of the five day old turkey carcass forgotten on the sun porch. We really pulled together as a family searching the house for scented candles, throwing open the windows and the doors. Later the fun was revisited after we extinguished the flames rising from the electric stove-top and Kevin’s dinner.

I told Kevin not to worry, that it was still better than what I could have done. The girls even had thirds.

Christa was such a great help in the kitchen, making the potatoes and vegetables with such flair. She even distracted Kevin in his moment of woe with a playful argument. How clever. Later Kevin thanked me for my kind and calming words to which I replied, “really? I was kind of making fun of you.” Oh how we laughed. I think we laughed; I really did have a lot of wine. Then I said, “you’re not really one of us till you’ve freaked the fuck out in the kitchen over Christmas dinner… welcome to the family!”

Dylan has matured so much this year, a junior at age 16. He has eschewed his former unibomber-hoodie/long-haired style in favor of a rather clean-cut collegiate look. He had decided that his teachers looked more favorably on such a student that looked as though they “meant it” and in his words he couldn’t “take an extra freaking year in this black hole of a small town.” We’re all so impressed with his newfound industry.

At nine Emma Claire is doing so well in fourth grade. This year she’s been involved in district choir and has expressed a special interest in science, chemistry and volitile explosives, or so I’ve gathered… she’s a secretive little bugger.

Baby Jane is six this year, starting kindie. She was so pleased to get so many books for Christmas. She’s already reading at a third grade level. She’s heard her brother’s talk of university and moving out and has expressed an interest in getting through as quickly as possible as well!

The New Year is nearly upon us and we hadn’t any particular plans as of today. I did ask Dylan if there was anything he’d like to do and he said he’d like to spend it with his girlfriend Keshia, a WHS Varsity basketballer. I asked if he’d like to have her over to the house to which he replied, “Mom, you’re weird.”

Cheers!
Lara Xxxxxxx Xxxxxx and Family

grr… links not working.
you can cut and paste to see Sarah Silverman’s Give the Jew Girl Toys:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XWIonhNqXlI&eurl=

which reminds me, the bagel shop in my white-ass town has all kinds of bagels. the bagels are in labelled bins.
one bin says “Jewish Rye.” may I just say, what the fuck?
what mishegoss!

A couple of people asked if I’m okay. I suppose I am. It’s fucking December. I’m as good as I ever am in December.
Last year I posted two things in December, this picture

and a two sentence outburst of blathering.

I’m recovering from a relationship (I guess) that I tried to have with someone who’s most likely a Narcissist. Of course I’m also recovering from dealing with a sexual predator. Boundary incursions galore. Tis the season. Mainly I’m trying to feel like getting back to work. I need to work on my career but at this point I’d settle for not dreading it. My ex is moving to town today. We’ll see how that goes. One more person to avoid at the grocery store.

Anyway, it’s December. It feels like fucking December and I’ll be glad when it’s over.

nataliedee.com