Tonight I was writing out Christmas cards. Because yes, I write Christmas cards. And put a personal note in every one. It’s a sickness, really. But as I was writing, I was reminded again how fun it would be to write a Christmas letter. Not your typical one. Because really, what single, childless person writes a Christmas letter. Unless…said letter is tainted with sarcasm. So here, in all its glory, my sarcastic, slightly exaggerated, very tongue in cheek, Christmas letter. You’re welcome.
Dear friends, family, acquaintances and people who stumble upon my blog searching for the term “hooker boots”:
What a year it’s been! It’s hard to believe that it’s already December! Actually, I feel like it’s been December for about six months. I swear there have been Christmas decorations in stores for six months. Too early people, too early! Oh wait, I’m sorry. Did I not mention that I’m a crotchety old lady now? GET OFF MY LAWN YOU DARN KIDS!
Anyway, I should probably answer a few of your burning questions before getting too far into things. So, in no particular order:
- No I am not married yet.
- I don’t know why I’m not married yet.
- No really, there’s nobody who’s interested in me.
- Yes, really. Nobody.
- Yup, I’m almost thirty.
- Yes, that is my biological clock you hear ticking.
- It does sound like a time bomb, doesn’t it?
- Yes, I would love a bottle glass of wine. Thank you.
Now that we have that out of the way, let’s talk about what I have accomplished this year!
I am still working at Compassion International, as a writer. I love my job, and my co-workers are wonderful. This year, I traveled to Togo (no, that’s not in Europe–actually, it’s in West Africa). In Togo, the people speak French. In Togo, I spoke Frenchlish. Which basically involved using a really bad French accent and laughing like this: “oh-hoh-hoh-hoh-hoh-hoh.” Somehow, it never quite worked.
Speaking of traveling, I went to New Mexico with some friends this summer. There I consumed gallons of green chili, and pounds of cheese. I believe the two counteract each other. The cheese plugs up the holes that the chili burned in my stomach. It’s a scientific fact. We also walked for nearly an hour to see fireworks that were approximately 1 mile from our hotel. That takes talent. At least we didn’t sit at the bus stop for half an hour waiting for a bus that never came. Wait. We did that too.
I also bought a house this year. Which means that I now officially have no money. So if you get a collage made out of macaroni spray-painted gold and magazine pictures of porcelain dolls for Christmas, consider yourself lucky. Spray paint costs money, people. The magazines I stole from the doctor’s office.
I’ve loved hosting things at my new house. I was on a brunch kick for a while. The mimosas flowed. I love that mimosas are one of the few alcoholic beverages that are acceptable to drink in the morning. Thank you, whoever invented mimosas.
I eventually graduated to hosting dinners. I had a family over for a roasted chicken dinner one evening. Seriously, just buy the rotisserie chicken. Even after hours of cooking, the stupid thing was raw enough to walk out of the oven itself.
When I’m not having people over for raw chicken, I’ve also enjoyed teaching kindergartners at church. Just this past Sunday, we learned about the parting of the Red Sea. There’s nothing like seeing the horror in a child’s face when you explain to him that Pharaoh’s entire army drowned in the sea. You know, the week after you explain the plaque of the first-born son. Two weeks after the story of Abraham being called to sacrifice Isaac.
I think we need new curriculum.
Anyway, that’s pretty much been my year. Traveling. Going into debt. Trying to give good friends food poisoning. Frightening small children.
It’s all just another day for me.
Hope you have a Merry Christmas! And if you’re thinking of something to give me for Christmas, a meat thermometer would be nice. Or cash. Whichever you like.