Xmas Letter

Well, I guess this is an xmas letter of sorts. Sunday afternoon; I just fed everyone a big pot of red beans and rice, along with peach jello, and now I’m back in my apartment, wondering what to do with myself. Probably take some Advil and then take a long winter’s nap. Nothing good on Netflix -- I tried watching their new Series The Witcher. Take my advice -- skip it. By the third episode you’re heavily into full frontal nudity, frequent F-bombs, and a disappointing lack of monsters. I’m wondering if I can stand watching The Office straight through for a third time . . . . 

I’ll try to keep away from medical complaints and general old coot grousing in this holiday missive. I’m not dying; I’m not running out of money; and the weather has been mild so far.

Hmmmm. Maybe I better end this letter right here . . . there’s nothing else to write about.

I finally signed up for a monthly box from the Community Supplemental Food Program up in Salt Lake; everyone else in the building gets one, so I decided I might as well jump on the bandwagon. I get a package with powdered milk, 2 cans of tomato sauce, 1 jar of peanut butter, 1 can of pears or peaches, 3 boxes of cereal, one bag of dry beans, one half gallon of apple juice, two bags of pasta or rice, and a large can of government beef -- we called it bully beef when I was a kid. I’ll give the cereal, peanut butter, and dry beans to Sarah the next time I see her. The next delivery is on Dec. 27th.

What did I buy the grand kids for Xmas this year? I’m glad you asked! I got Diesel absolutely nothing, because I work on the principal of ‘out of sight, don’t get anything.’ I’m giving Noah a Russian novel, Oblamov, cuz he seems so interested in all things Russian. I got Katrina a wooden hand (it can be posed in various positions so artists can practice drawing the human hand -- it’s from IKEA.) I got Ohen a DVD of ‘The Ten Thousand Fingers of Dr. T.’ A classic 1950s fantasy, the only movie ever written by Dr. Suess. I got Lance some beadwork stuff (his mother insists he loves doing beadwork, but I’ve never seen him do it.) And for Brooke a five pound box of Whitman's Sampler Chocolates. 

For myself I’m hoping for a new pair of glasses this Christmas -- my old pair is giving me headaches. I just might actually have enough money to do it, too -- cuz Adam is giving me a ton of short articles to ghost write for his websites. I have to write five each day, one for each individual website. At first I felt overwhelmed with the constant demand, but then I remembered an old trick from my radio days -- the baloney sandwich. You open with a brief statement of fact, then do a long paragraph of fluff that’s vaguely tied to the story, and then close with another brief sentence or two of solid facts. I can whip one of those babies off in a matter of fifteen minutes. The fact is, if I can keep up the pace I’ll have made twice the amount of my Social Security by the end of the month. If I could be guaranteed that kind of loot each month I just might move back to Thailand after all. With that kind of money I could rent something near the beach and overdose on green papaya salad with sticky rice. I could even buy a good health insurance policy, too, for about ten thousand dollars a year. 

Do I have plans for the coming year? Not many. I’ll keep going to the Rec Center as often as I can. I’ll keep borrowing books from the library for my Kindle -- I’m never buying another one again! I’m not so keen on my poetry and prose anymore, so I think I’ll be cutting back on that and concentrating more on visual stuff, like postcards to the president and my photo essays. I’ll keep feeding the finches on my patio. I’ll keep having insomnia, probably. But I’m learning to just read for an hour or two late at night when I wake up and can’t go back to sleep, and then listen to some soothing zen bamboo flute music and I can sometimes get another 2 hours of sack time. I’m going to make a steak and kidney pie if it kills me. Beef kidney is so gross-looking at the supermarket, but I just gotta know how good it really is -- my grandma Daisy used to make it, but I never touched it as a kid. Now I’m really curious about it. I made Kedgeree yesterday -- another old-fashioned British dish of fish and rice. It turned out okay, but I don’t think I’ll be making it again. I won’t be buying any shoes, furniture, clothing, or cooking equipment in 2020. I won’t fall in love with Amy again and ask her to marry me. And I’ll read a lot more about zen Buddhism. 

So there you have it. I believe it’s time for that Advil now, and then drifting off until the old bladder needs depressurizing. It will be interesting to look back next year to see just what all happened to me that I didn’t plan on at all, or even know about. There could be volcanoes, arrests, romantic intrigue, another fifteen minutes of fame, or a bowl of birds nest soup. Like my mother used to say:  Man proposes but God disposes.

And to all a good night!