Sunday, December 25, 2011
The funniest holiday newsletter we ever received began with the following salutation:
Happy holidays from the disgruntled Smiths. (I changed the name to protect the disgruntled) The newsletter cataloged the family's year of mishaps, misfires, and messes. It described battles with ill health and other unsavory features that are all too often a condition of being part of the human race. The writer of the letter was clear. In this race, the family was losing.
It was worse than the saddest country song you've ever heard without the weary acceptance of a blues song. It was an airing of grievances before any of us had even heard of Festivus and yet the writer gave the reader the gift of laughter.
I've always aspired to that ability. No matter what I write about, I want to be able to maintain my sense of humor.
While this year has given me plenty to fess about and I've had to dig deep to find the humor at times, it's also been a year that highlights what really matters. Love. Family. Friends. Health. Laughter. Books. Music. A good meal. A decent night's sleep. Shelter. Writing. Those are the things that make a life well lived. For me.
The coming year is full of opportunities for the good, the bad and the absolutely terrifying. But then, that's life, isn't it? We don't get guarantees. Not even if we're willing to pay the extra sixty-nine dollars for the extended warranty.
This is where I go all wobbly on you and tell you how much I appreciate you. How grateful I am that you come and read and share. How being part of this community is another vital part to my life well lived.
Now I have to go take a nap. Sophie woke us up at an obscenely early hour to unwrap her gifts from Dr. Who and I nearly wore myself out yesterday asking MathMan obnoxious questions about how he planned to stuff my stocking.
Wishing you all the joys of the season.