‘Tis the season to pour significant amounts of effort into convincing everyone else that your life and family is far happier and more successful than theirs. Sure, we do this the rest of the year with Facebook, but December is when we break out the matching outfits and air a long list of things everyone else ought to be jealous of.
I haven’t had a proper “at home” Christmas in about a decade, but I well remember the darling letters we’d receive in the mail and post on the fridge until Mid-March when they were spattered with enough grease stains and dirty handprints to be taken out with the rest of the trash. Michele over at Rubber Shoes in Hell shared her own version of a Christmas letter a few weeks ago and I just couldn’t help but steal the idea.
2013 was a year of many successes– I managed not to break any bones or nearly bleed to death, but kicked it old school with a 6 week bout of pneumonia that started on Christmas Eve and continued through the whole of January. Thank goodness for health insurance! Except for when you don’t know where your benefits card is and you’re desperate and think you’re dying and thus pay for all your prescriptions and doctor visits out of pocket. Nothing like spending $700 when you could’ve just spent $80.
March was a special month for love! I dated an absolutely unhinged man-child who had a legitimate phobia of jewelry and stayed around just long enough to dump him at a casino in the middle of the night. He’d taken some sort of funny pills that a barista at Starbucks gave him before going on a trip to Mexico. The details escape me but suffice it to say that I cashed in my Rescue Credit with Shleisel who I’d tried (yet failed) to rescue when her boyfriend left her stranded in the woods. We then snuck into the man-child’s house to retrieve my car keys and other possessions. I resisted the urge to destroy any of his personal property despite the fact he’d been doing some naughty things behind my back– I settled for letting Shleisel eat a slice of his leftover frozen pizza and take a hit from his bong.
I decided at this point that my 100% success rate of dating men who cheated on me was a clear sign that I should give up on love altogether and take up a loftier pursuit– like gardening. The only problem was that the best place for a garden was along the fence line that I shared with my conspiracy theorist neighbors and their obnoxiously overgrown wall of bamboo. My other neighbor had warned me not to touch a single cane because they had litigated against her for trimming it back after an ice storm the previous winter. But… if I was to successfully give up men/passion/companionship I had to have that damn garden and let’s not forget my policy of aggressive aggressiveness or my desire to win all future fights . I didn’t touch their bamboo– I just spent a week digging up the entire root system that was on my side of the fence.
It was the best workout of my life and I filled 14 of those 30-gallon trash bags before I was done. My garden was kick ass and I actually became friends with the conspiracy theorist neighbor, who agreed to trim the bamboo back herself.
My birthday came in April and my darling Mother gave a gift straight from the heart… something she knew I could really use:
That’s right. My mother paid a therapist for 10 advanced sessions so that I’d have no excuse not to go. From the bottom of her heart, she knows I have issues though she doesn’t know 10% of the things we’ve talked about on this blog. If only I’d clued her in to a bit more, maybe I’d have gotten 100 free sessions of therapy. Meanwhile, that gift rests in my top drawer next to some easter candy and a pile of bread sack twisty ties.
Now, Summer was an absolute joy because it was completely dominated by having to testify against my psycho-ex in his wrongful termination lawsuit which ended up being a big “Aussa is a slut bag” show. For two days I was cross-examined about how much of a hooker, a hacker, a ninja, and a spy I was– and how this unequivocally gave the man permission to abuse, stalk, and harass. Let me tell ya, nothing is more fun than sitting in a courtroom while a lawyer repeatedly drills you on “why you stayed if it was so bad.” Pretty sure my answer involved a reference to the Lifetime Movie Network but I’ll have to check. Thanks to an open records request, the transcripts to this whole fiasco will be coming to a blog near you in January 2014– get excited!
At some point in 2013 I found an old slide projector in a closet at work. My coworker and I plugged it in and selected some random slides from a pile, which led to this image being beamed on my office wall:
2013 was also a great year for finances. In addition to paying $8,000 back to my educational institution, I managed to destroy my Range Rover in the most responsible way ever– apparently you’re supposed to put oil in them? What? Right? Who knew– Craziness! Naturally, it decided to overheat and crack the engine lining at 2AM when I was driving through the shadiest part of our city. No fear, though, I coasted to the nearest exit which took me below an overpass where I waited in a vacant and unlit field for two hours as random people shuffled about in the darkness.
The year was not without it’s accomplishments though. Through the help of archaic rental stores and my recent reunion with Netflix I managed to achieve the following:
- I watched (2) Seasons of The Walking Dead
- I watched (2) Seasons of Scandal
- I watched (1) Season of The Newsroom
I also have a keurig now, which has immensely improved my quality of life.
Lastly, I suppose I should mention what happened when I swore off men and bought a truckload of soil and vegetable seeds. That very night as I sat on my porch drinking adult beverages, thinking feminist thoughts, and googling “how to plant cilantro,” I received a text from a guy I’d turned down twice before. I’d even deleted his number and only recognized him by the same dismissive tone he’d used when accusing me of being a crazy cat lady and an ax murderer– despite the fact I don’t even own a cat. Or an ax. I figured I may as well let him buy me a beer (or four) due to his perseverance. It turned out he was the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me. Don’t tell him I said that though, because he once said his trip to Australia was the best damn thing that ever happened to him. *Angry Glare*
That about wraps up 2013. There are a lot of things to look forward to in 2014… Like:
Season Four of Game of Thrones!
I’ll finally be able to cancel one of my two gym memberships on January 24th and thus only be required to pay for one of these auto-draft commitments which I do not utilize to the fullest.
Merry Christmas/Happy Hanukkah/Happy Kwanzaa!
Aussa & Zola and the mouse who lives behind the washing machine.
PS: If you write your own blog christmas letter, make sure to send me a link so I can be awash with envy!
Your thoughts on the annual Christmas letter– do you send one? What’s the most non-braggable thing that happened to you in 2013? Any actual accomplishments or major wins to share?
Want to keep in touch? Find me on Facebook.