The Choose-Your-Response, Mad Libs Way of Looking at a Life Led in Suburban Philadelphia.
Well, another [year has flown by, one bites the dust, Christmas letter that you can make fun of]. We’re all getting [older, more beautiful, increasingly boring] and hopefully a little [wiser, funnier, drunker].
We’re [preparing, battening down the hatches, moving] in anticipation of the Mottet [clan, sect, Mafia] coming to visit our house for [a few days, a week, an eternity]. Yep, we’ll be hosting [31 additional people from Sheryl’s family, everyone who can fit in Kinnick Stadium, the Barbarian Hordes] over [Christmas, the decade, an eon] and New Year’s. Each year one of the [families, saints, suckers] hosts the [festivities, 24-hour diner, modern day Woodstock]. This year it’s our [turn, responsibility, bummer].
Here’s the part where we [glow with pride, gloat like suburban helicopter parents, make you feel like a slacker] as we talk about our kids and all our [incredible accomplishments, sickening overachievements, blind luck] in 2008. We just want you to know that we [think of you often, had to look long and hard for your mailing address, hope you lost our phone number].
Stephen is a high school sophomore. He’s a [star soccer player, brilliant student, 2nd Degree Black Belt]. He can speak [French, Chinese, Spanish] fluently and plans to be able to [speak 15 languages, go to college in Tokyo, solve world peace]. And to think, at his age my major accomplishment was [winning the Illinois Junior Science Fair, pop riveting a stop sign to the floorboard of my VW Beetle, growing sideburns].
Matt is a high school senior. He’s busy [filling out college applications, working at Circuit City, sending text messages]. He’s already been accepted at [a prestigious school, cooking school, reform school], so that’s good news. Now he’s just waiting to hear back from [his school of choice, a college on the East Coast, the most expensive college in the United States].
Dan is in his junior year at Carthage College in Kenosha, Wisconsin. He’s majoring in criminal justice and would like to be a police officer when he’s done to [help people, make the community safer, hear “Don’t tase me, bro”]. With his busy schedule, we don’t get to [see him much, feel short next to him, interrogate him] but in this day and age of electronics, he is usually on-line and we can chat most every day.
Frank’s company is [five years old, unexplainable in Iowa, looking for a government bailout]. He [made a good decision, went kicking and screaming, had his life ruined] when he sold his [motorcycle, donkey, soul] on eBay. After that [sale, fiasco, excruciating pain], he [put his Alfa Romeo on the blocks, went into seclusion, cried like a baby]. Now there’s plenty of room in the garage for [Matt’s Jeep, Sheryl’s Jaguar, a gigantic sign that says, “You’re old and won’t ever have any cool toys anymore”].
Sheryl is still a [math tutor at the high school, founder of Volunteers Sans Frontiers, a modern-day Dr. Doolittle] and tutors kids on the side. The other hours of the day are spent [running to boy’s events, wondering why there are so many boys in the house, rolling her eyes at the juvenile boy’s sex jokes at the dinner table]. That’s what she said.
Snickers the Wonder Dog and Benny the Curious Cat [remind us daily how much we are loved, sleep most of the day, are bed hogs]. They greet everyone that comes to visit as if [they came to see them, we never trained them, we are running an illicit operation in our basement]. The fish continue to [multiply, swim, talk like the Amazing Mr. Limpit] and the household is [as it should be, inexplicably clean, going to miss us when Sheryl and I move to Manhattan once the boys go to college]. (She doesn’t know I wrote that last one.)
You can [fill in the rest, be thankful I didn’t write more, drip with jealousy]. We’ve been [really lucky, obsequious, clairvoyant] in 2008. Sheryl and I stand poised to join [AARP, Club Med, a kibbutz] this year. Happy holidays.
