Happy Hacking Season To All:
With the exception of a few cat-centric illnesses, 2014 seems poised to end in relative peace, much the way we began. JoAnn weathered a new workplace dress code and reorganization while continuing to minister with utmost efficiency and charm to the infirm of Northern Colorado. Tom’s former employer performed less admirably, disorganizing itself into well-deserved oblivion and helping him begin the year with a not unpleasant interlude of zombie impersonation. Sloth came naturally, but societal demands and a shock from a malfunctioning bird bath heater soon found him groveling for another post. After wisely ignoring interview advice to “just be yourself,” he now spends the occasional workday obeying the commands of an air-bot while writing bad aviation-related poetry, i.e., “Did she say … weather delay?” Have no fear, though, traveling public! He functions in a strictly supervised environment, means no harm, and apologizes for the constant stream of blank texts, butt dials, and silent voice mails from his “upgraded” phone.
The middle of the year proved less serene than beginning and end. After quelling a springtime raccoon uprising in the attic, real excitement came to us in the form of a June hailstorm that made a mockery of our impact-resistant roof, shatter-proof skylights, and stain-master carpet. A deafening summer and fall of neighborhood roofing ensued. The good news: non-stop construction clamor masked the all the barking that envelops our locale.
On the heels of the 500-year hailstorm came an even more ferocious maelstrom, a frenzy of robo-calls from a legion of frantic political candidates and cause fighters. Our votes went to those who called us least, but the constant ringing battered us into apathy over winners and losers. As political strategies go, voter exhaustion paved the way to victory for many.
The temporary recession of electioneers and constructioneers left us but a few weeks for holiday planning. Lack of snow always causes panic this time of year, but the Swedes among us guarantee a white Christmas, at least indoors, by coating our holiday tableware with lutefisk, white sauce, potatoes, raw milk, butter, and cheese. The disastrous lingonberry famine of 2013 seems to have abated with a vengeance, so we look forward to some color contrast with this year’s festival dinner. An on-line snafu netted us six big red pounds of lingonberry preserves rather than the small quantity of fresh berries desired, so we apologize for any crimson adhesion you might detect with this greeting. Preserves dominate our landscape and make for a great driveway crack sealant, bathtub safety tread, or hairstyle product. If only they had appeared in time for roofing season.
In closing, we encourage everyone to think like the wind, and we wish you a new year free of the following setbacks and impediments: zero-suspicion property seizures, large drift angles, sequences of menace, mindless shrieking, hyperbolic chaos attractors, accidentosis, rant clowns, and roving bands of cut-ups and roughnecks.
