"Event Planner"

They are going to hire an Event Planner for me. An event planner? For me? What do they think I DO?

I know I've been really busy lately, and I realize that with the (recent and continued) addition of executives my work load will only be increasing, but I like planning these events. Most of the time it is this lovely place I go to take a break from presentations, letters, reports and filings. It is the creative and widest of my canvases. It is also the only thing I get wide and public props for.
I wouldn't mind if the Event Planner took over Disney. I HATE Disney and their Magical kingdom. You try having a "Magical Day" after butting heads with a giant corporation that peddles in false promise and dreams of mythological proportions.
But what about the rest of it?

It's a political move (hiring this under-employed person) so I hold in the back of my mind this will not be permanent.
Why couldn't they just have gotten me a receptionist or secretary?

Randomness regarding age

I've never really considered old age. The process of aging. I don't recall my Aunts or Grandparents getting older. I'm sure they weren't ever the same but to my memories eye they look the same. In pictures I see a vague difference but not enough to rewrite my memories. Either I was too young or I never spent enough time with anyone to watch the gradual change, see the ticking of times clock. Until recently I didn't seem to change either and now that I have maybe I notice it more.
My mother has lost weight, were as I have gained it. We have both lost strength but she looks fragile and small. I've begun to notice the age compounding. The pronounced wrinkles of age magnified by weight loss, the thinning hair that was always too thick for combs and barrettes, the finger nails brittle, thick and no longer clear as if she had a years worth of acrylic filler on her never manicured nails. The slight rocking nod I at first took for agreement. The moments of confusion she has always had I now scrutinize. She is different, older, not the way I remember her. She is less demanding and more grateful, more oblivious and less omniscient.
I remember noticing my parents getting older in my mid 20'. I remember worrying about my father, what if his hearing IS going. I worried over my mother living alone and having an accident. But his hearing is still ok and she has survived several incidents. I haven't seen my dad for a year and while he says his coastal lifestyle is keeping him fit (and trimmer). I wonder but I forgot a little too.
It's best not to think about it.
Age and weight. Apparently the more you worry about it the fatter and older you become.
In November I quit working out and watching my weight because I wasn't making progress and the holidays were upon us. I seem to have lost enough to have to put the safety pins back into my waistbands.
Course I did start smoking again.

Thank God I'll not have children to torment with my aging process.

recompensing victims of holiday letters

I've been getting the "Yearly Newsletter" from co-workers in Christmas cards. While some of them do offer clever "kids say the darnedest things" I have to say, mostly I find them boring. Here are people I barely know, sharing things about their year that I couldn't possibly have interest in (being that I am self centered) spending extra postage to jam oddly folded pages and pages into card shaped envelopes and they aren't even TRYING to be entertaining.

The very least I can do is reciprocate.
I'll try to keep the boring stuff to a minimum.

This year was my first year of married life. My first year of answering every variety of "How's married life?". After the first 40 times, I stopped trying to think of clever responses for "It's no different" and went straight for the small talk ending responses. "The insurance pay off makes it all worth it."

We went to Spain this year with the in-laws, and rather than share to much information (like some people did and do) I'll reduce it down to: My father in-law implying I was a fat lush and then (after he had made the realization) he tried to take my last bit of bourbon.
He recovered nicely and still has (most of) his hand.

I made it to New York twice. The MET roof wine bar in spring and East Village Thanksgiving. I got a new hair do and Sue tried to kill me with a smoothy, but she got the food poisoning too so I guess we're even.
And speaking of Sue...(I love it when the letters run off about someone that isn't a member of the family and so you are even less likely to know them)... Sue ran the Chicago marathon again this year and I still have the crutches in my closet to prove it.

This was also the first year my father has lived alone since college (I'm guessing). He ran away from home in 2003. Quit his job, retired for a week, got a job in another state and left my mother, the dogs, most of his crap and moved in with my sister. But she kicked him out when she got a boyfriend. Then Daddy moved to an even farther away state and hasn't been seen since last year. I think he's happy. For Christmas he sent checks to Momma, Kendall, her man (Jason) and my man (Josh). Hmmm, missing anyone?

Christmas is always chaotic. So many places so little time. Between the 3 households it is hard to do all the visiting, eating, unwrapping and chores (the reupholstered dining room chairs look quite nice even if I do say so myself). Still, we managed to make it to Walgreens for our customary Christmas tradition of filling our stockings. We actually did it on Christmas eve with the idea that Target would be a lovely change. We entered and were told we had 5 minutes. I thought it was like supermarket sweep where you get as much as possible in the time allowed. The security people didn't understand that there had been miscommunication between my contest idea and their being home for Christmas eve idea. So we left and went to Walmart, also closing. I think we have started a new tradition that may involve breaking into stores on Christmas eve.
Then back home for some Hors D’Oeuvers while opening gifts. I reached for a slice of cucumber on the Crudité and discovered it was not there. Interrogation revealed that Jason had eaten all the cucumber off the tray. And that my friends was a mistake which lead to a loud "well Fuck you" from my mother and a raised level of debate between the 2 of them finally ending in an awkward dinner.

The animals are all still hanging in there. Our little death row menagerie is as cute as ever. Josh and I both busy and still have jobs (and in this economy that means something), still paying off our mortgages, and are thinking about kidnapping our downstairs neighbors maid.

I really can't think of anything else that should be in this letter, so in closing and in the spirit of the season...

Merry Christmas... Well, Fuck You