Of course I would start a letter like that. Did you really expect anything less classy from me? If so...do you actually know me in real life? Probably not is my guess. If so, buckle up buttercup because this is gonna be a profanity laden ride that you will leave likely feeling slightly used but also somewhat embarrassed that you liked it.
So far 2022 has been meh. Of course, we are five days into it and Day 6 of 2021 was an attempted insurrection so there's that. We can say that to date, no one has attempted to overthrow our government so yay? I mean, given the past two years of hell we all have been living in with an actual plague going around that half of the country is taking seriously and the other half is all like "Imma lick the door handles and stop washing my hands because I'm not a sheeple and you can't tell me what to do with my body", the bar is pretty low for how life is gonna go at this point I'm thinking.
Let's catch up with the family. Charles had a knee replacement that was roughly 5 years overdue, but insurance won't pay for it in someone that young unless the knee is literally missing. Quite frankly, going by his X-rays, we could have probably made the argument that it was, but we were also really really hoping that he would be able to wait until he was at least 50. Alas, here we are, 7 years early, but also really 5 years late so doing some kind of crazy new-age math we are right on time? IDK. But the man can now walk like a 43 year old vs an 80 year old so that's good. And so far, no surgeries this year so also yay?
Unfortunately, the rest of last year went to shit after that for him. More on that later.
Elizabeth is off doing her grown-up shit still, as is Jewel and her (now husband!) Garrett. Their wedding was lit, as the young people say, and I drank more whiskey that day than I care to admit and was pretty lit myself. I remembered why I don't drink whisky generally...not because of the hangover, but the lack thereof I somehow manage, making all my alcoholic Irish and German ancestors proud. Delilah is still perfect (obviously) and loves to fuck with her Papaw by refusing to give him a hug with a little shit eating grin on her face. She will then randomly decide she is in fact going to give him one (because we are big on the teaching of my body my choice around here and don't force it) and we all watch that big teddy bear of a man melt and get wrapped even more firmly around her finger. I cannot wait to see the two of them together when she is a teenager. At any rate, the older children are putting forth a reasonable facsimile of adulting at the very least and are doing great at it at best. I'm voting for the latter.
Alexis continues to take college courses and I am all for that life for her. We do most of our communication via TikToks now a days. Not making them, though I did briefly foray into the making of TikToks during quarantine because it CHANGES you, man. We just send each other shit we find funny, plus recipes that we want to make. The Tok (as I call it, and I am trying to start a movement to have everyone call it that because I am bored as fuck so please help me have it catch on) is an excellent way to slide life lessons into my daughter's psyche that normally she would ignore and have to learn the hard way. So way to go, The Tok, for helping me with my already lazy parenting. Best part is...I don't have to create the content. Win for all involved because good God, the stuff I've already created...well, you're reading the blog so you probably have an idea.
Charlie continues to do well for herself at the new school and is one of the funniest kids I have met. She has also started to argue with her father for sport, and I stay out of it because really it's for the best. She is barreling right towards pre-teendom, and I'm just hoping we continue with the lack of dead bodies. Or that she continues to be really good at hiding them. I'm fine with either cause if you're gonna do something, you need to do it to the best of your abilities.
Now for the shitty parts. 2021 took from us Charles's best friend Josh. This was devastating, and we are all still adjusting to life without him. Then, a month later, we discovered that Maximus had a large mass in his chest and we ended up having to put him down. Essentially, my husband lost his two best friends within a month of each other. It has really put new perspective in my life at least, and we both are at the point where we are not doing anything that we don't want to do (well, except pay our bills. That's probably important.) Life is too motherfucking short to spend it with people and doing things that we don't want to just because we feel some sort of obligation to do so. So there, and you can't make me (insert crossed arms and pouty face and stomped feet).
Roman continues to Roman. He's still a cute motherfucker but let's emphasize the motherfucker part because he's also a bit of an asshole. He cannot be outside without a leash of some sort because dude likes to run like the warden got drunk and let the inmates have the keys to the doors. He also has gone after other dogs, so the therapy dog thing is a no go now unfortunately. Freeloader. He's just gonna be the equivalent of your 30 year old cousin who lives in his mama's basement, smoking weed and not working.
So...remember how I have said before I had no desire to get another cat? Grief makes you do weird shit. Introducing Winnifred Joshua:
It was love at first sight. I actually got her from the Mental Health Board meeting I was at the Monday after Josh died. The director was talking about how this cat had been kicked out of her house by her former owners for having fleas, and even after she de-flea'ed her, they did not want her back, so she took her to get neutered and was looking for a home for her. I was all oh let her come in and I'll snuggle her like I do to Elizabeth's cats, thinking I would love on her and then send her back like I do to my grandkitties. Well that little shit came strutting in, with her crazy ass tail with the few long whispy hairs and her furzy little ears that Charles says look like devil horns...we locked eyes and I knew. She was coming home with me. She beelined straight for me too.
I. Did. Not. Want. A. Cat. But I needed this one.
I have been known to call her Winnie the shit, because surprise surprise an animal I own has a mind of its own. Charles calls her "stupid cat", which means she has been accepted into the tribe as one of us. Roman has not killed her as we feared he might, given his ongoing feud with the neighborhood cats. Winnie, however, put him into his place pretty fucking quickly when I brought her into the house for the first time. They will occasionally reluctantly play together. I think they secretly like each other but are both too stubborn to admit it.
So for 2022, the goals are to not catch COVID again (that was super fun but I survived because I'm fucking vaccinated) and to not learn any more of the Greek alphabet, so let's got COVID to a place where it's not devastating families and communities, m'kay? I'd greatly appreciate it because I want to fucking go on another cruise and all y'all are cramping my style here because I am not about the getting stuck on a cruise ship for the next 3 months because we can't dock because of a fucking Mexican beer virus (side note: Beer named after the virus, or virus after beer? Discuss).
Love,
Me
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