Family Letter 2005

I sent my New Year's cards out in December. Warren refused to send his out without a little something else. This is what I sent out with his cards this morning.

January 23, 2006

Dearest Friends,

I (Stacey) spent many nights in front of the computer selecting the perfect picture to use on our new year’s cards. We have thousands of pictures of the boys, so it was no small task. Then I did a google search to find the perfect quote to put on the inside. I made a list and presented it to Warren. After reviewing them, Warren declared that they were all pretentious and sent me back to the Internet. Ultimately I had to reach way back into the depths of my brain—past the dirty diapers, past the alcoholic haze of my twenties, past the bow headed days of high school, all the way back to 1980 to come up with a winner. It wasn’t easy. Once the wordage was approved, I then had to go back and reselect the perfect photo.

Once the cards finally arrived, I consulted several databases and dug through old boxes of correspondence to ferret out recent addresses for all of our dearest friends. Then I hand addressed the envelopes, taking care to inject each letter with love even though I had a 1 ½ year old monkey demanding that I give him all of my love. Finally, I peeled each and every stamp (that I also personally selected at the post office) off with my bare hands and carefully placed it in the upper right hand corner of the envelope while fighting off a 3 ½ year old Power Ranger heavily armed with a light saber, a sword, a water gun, and some sticks.

Very proud of myself, I informed Warren that I had completed our new year’s cards before new year’s! Before Hanukah, before Christmas, before Christmas Eve, before Kwanzaa—even before the winter solstice!

Instead of giving me a juicy kiss and a “Well done, honey,” Warren gave me a frown. “You can’t send them out with no letter! No handwritten message! That’s too impersonal,” he said.

“Okay,” I said. “Then you write a letter.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

Well before you know it, winter solstice came, then Christmas Eve, Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, and even the New Year. “How’s that letter coming?” I asked Warren.

He gave me a blank look.

I gave him a dirty look.

“I’ll take them with me to Missouri,” he said. “I’ll handwrite a note in each one.”

“Okay,” I said. Warren had been working off and on in Missouri all year in the Mark Twain National forest. Without a nagging wife and two very active and needy children underfoot, he just might he get it done, I reasoned. I dutifully packed the cards and a nice writing pen into Warren’s duffle bag.

A week later when he came home, I asked, “How are the cards coming?”

He looked rather sheepish and went on and on about being busy and tired.

“They successfully treated the Lyme’s disease in August,” I said as I gave him a dirty look.

“I’m going to have Jiro help me,” he said.

“Okay,” I said. Jiro had the chicken pox and Warren was staying home with him so it seemed like a plausible idea.

A couple of weeks passed and I asked again about the cards. “Did you finish?”

For a minute Warren looked as if he did not speak English and had no idea what I was saying. Then finally a light bulb went off and he said, “I’m going to have Satchel help me.”

“Okay,” I said. Satchel had the chicken pox and was going to work with Warren so it seemed like a plausible idea.

At my last check a week ago, Satchel had indeed added his personal touch to a small fraction of the cards. As Warren was packing up again to go to Missouri, I said, “I can’t take it. I’m mailing the cards as is. This isn’t Cameroon. You can’t be wishing people ‘Happy New Year’ in June like it’s no big deal.”

“I promise I’ll do them this time,” he said.

“No, you won’t,” I said. (I’m no fool.)

“I promise,” he said. He had just cut his hair short and looked really sexy in his rugged Carhart archaeology gear and I had just seen Brokeback Mountain and was still hot and bothered, so I caved.

“Okay,” I said. “But this is your last chance. You’ve actually waited so long that the postage has gone up!” I added an extra two cent stamp to each card while the boys tried to take me out with a bouncy ball, then I dutifully packed them into Warren’s duffle bag.

Warren called me late last night while I was in the middle of making salmon croquettes. (Since he’s been traveling so much, I have vowed to try and learn how to cook a decent meal.) “So…uh…yeah,” he said.

“So…uh…yeah…what?” I asked. The canned salmon looked weird. Are there supposed to be bones in here?

“I didn’t do the cards,” he said.

“Are there supposed to be bones in canned salmon?” I asked.

“Will you start a family letter tomorrow? I’ll finish it when I get home,” he lied. “Then I can mail them from Missouri next week and everyone will see the postmark and know that I really have been out of town.

“Do you think the boys will choke on the bones?” I asked.

“Tell everyone about how I’m almost done building the screened-in porch out back, and how I almost have my motorcycle running again, and that I’m going to buy a VW Bus on eBay with our tax return so we can visit everyone and really catch up,” he said.

“Okay, I’ll tell them,” I said. As long as I don’t have to eat the salmon croquettes.

Happy New Year Everyone! We hope to see/and or talk to you more in 2006!

Love,

Warren, Stacey, Satchel, and Jiro

p.s. Imagine a nice, handwritten note from Warren here: _________________________________