Dear kids;
Well, your mother is in the kitchen right now. She’s making peanut butter cookies while talking on the phone to a Medicare huckster. I don’t know why she spends time with those apple knockers – they call her constantly, but don’t have anything to offer her that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg. She will automatically get on Medicare on her birthday this coming April.
These telepests are always calling us old folks this time of year, cuz Medicare allows them the first 3 months of each year to sell their for-profit healthcare packages to gullible old folks. Your mother has now spent 32 minutes on the phone and been transferred 4 times to different so-called agents. I told her to hang up, but she don’t listen to me. As you well know! (It sounds like she is going to sign up with Humana – which is what I have.)
We continue to knock happily along together. The whole thing is still a wonderful miracle to me. I didn’t earn it and don’t deserve it. But I’m going to enjoy the h*ll out of it as long as it lasts!
We’re doing 6 rewrites each week day for Adam – which nets us the grand total of 30 dollars a day. We’ve finally got a routine in place so it takes us about 20 minutes to process each rewrite.
We go to the Provo Rec Center twice each day. In the morning we swim, and in the evening we walk and work out on the machines. I’m down to 295 lbs now.
Your mother is back at H & R Block again for the next 3 months. She works from 4 p.m. to 8 p.m. Right now she works here in town, just 2 blocks from our apartment. But they want her to go down to work in Springville in a week or two.
We do a lot of cooking for our Valley Villa neighbors. Today we’ve got a pork roast with parsnips in the slow cooker. Someone donated both the roast and the parsnips to us. Once Amy goes to work this afternoon I’m going to cook up some chicken livers we were given and use the blender to make liver paste to spread on bread and crackers. Yummo!
We were working on a novel together for a few weeks – but I’ve lost interest in it. I pretty much just write haiku nowadays. Here’s a sample:
the brown wooden fence --
a brown stone on the brown post;
the brown sparrow lands
The original haiku last line read ‘the brown sparrow shits’ but I figured your mother would find that too objectionable, so I censored it myself.
We were given a huge and hideous clown painting the other day. I wouldn’t put it up in our apartment for all the tea in China. So we plan on giving it to Sarah and Jonny as a housewarming gift. Bwa-hah-hah-hah!
We’ve both had bad colds, but didn’t go in to get tested for Covid. I went into the urologist last week. He did some very painful poking, just to tell me my prostrate is swelling like the Goodyear Blimp. He suggested invasive surgery, so they could drill a hole right through the dang thing – this would help me urinate more freely. But I opted for a more conservative procedure for now. Just taking some pills. I’ll have a teleconference with the urologist in February to discuss if it’s working.
Well, my little wombats, I think that is all for now. Please know that your mother and I pray for you and your families day and night.
Love,
Heinie Manush (my new nom de plume.)
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