Dearest MX Thrivers and Survivors:
Congratulations to everyone for enduring “The Lost Decade.” Those years saw incredible technological innovation and offered 24-hour connectivity, all of which failed to prevent the constant misplacement of our belongings and the straying of our vehicles from their intended paths. As the Kindles, iPods, and Notebooks pile up at our feet, we give thanks that your valued friendship has yet to be totally de-personalized.
Our February visit to The Baja included a day as dolphin trainers, allowing us to participate in the meticulous care and coaching of these special animals, whose daily food budget exceeds ours by a wide margin. The remainder of our Mexican holiday involved slightly fewer dolphin bites and included the requisite snorkeling, dining, beaching, and inadvertent party-crashing, as well as a brief, overblown tsunami scare that caused a true vacation disaster: the activation of the dreaded hotel-room television.
A bad year in the feline health department required us to say “Goodbye” to Cecil, our good buddy of 17 years. In memory of the best cat ever, JoAnn sponsored the adoption of Panda, another great cat who recently left Fort Collins Cat Rescue for a new life with a deserving animal lover.
Holiday guessing game: determine from the following descriptions which inhabitant of our happy home most embodies the Christmas Spirit:
Occupant number one works as a nurse, patrols the hospital for hours on end ministering to the infirm, then comes home and does the same for a befuddled spouse between sessions of landscaping, home remodeling, and snow shoveling. Occupant one earned several appreciative work-related awards over the course of the year in recognition of a helpful, courteous, and friendly demeanor.
Occupant number two—whether home or away—gapes out of windows in a state of tonic immobility while sifting juvenile theories through an ever-softening brainpan. Spousal diagnosis: continuous partial attention. Number two recently completed a half century of ever-increasing bafflement, dismay, and delusion. During a summer gathering of relatives, number two had to be restrained from a 10-year-old nephew during a heated dispute over the value of absolute zero.
Turns out that “absolute zero” describes our list of New Year’s resolutions, an electronic file that remains lost, along with other vital info, following a spring-time dot.tom computer crash. In place of the resolutions, and because we both now wear bifocals, we feel qualified to offer some holiday advice to younger generations: don’t take our advice.
Merry Christmas MX, and a happy, gentle, undeserved airport pat-down.
