Well, it's time once again to update you on the highs and lows of the Tidwell clan for 1992. Since I last wrote any of you there has been quite a few changes in my life over the past year (I can say this with all confidence, for I know for a fact that I have not written a single soul in the past year since I last wrote my Christmas letter).
I guess it would be best to probably start at the present and back up through the past year and kind of relate where I am today and where I have come from in the last year. This letter is being dictated on a rainy Thanksgiving Eve night as I drive back from Dothan, Alabama where I have just completed an Applebee's restaurant that I have been working on for the last three months and got a C.O. (Certificate of Occupancy) today, which means the owners can move in. I am not saying that people in Alabama are still just a little bit 'country', but most Certificates of Occupancy are written relatively eloquently and with certain legal terms to make it all just so to meet codes and what have you, but when I picked this one up at City Hall in the City of Dothan today and gazed upon it in all its elegance with the fancy script and what have you, the words just still rang of 'country' when it said "This here paper says you'uns can move into your'n house." Also one dead give a way to the area I was in was the fact that not one person in Dothan made fun of the way I spoke. Hence, I knew they'uns couldn't be all bad if they spoke just like usn's does.
Prior to my occupation as a restauranteur, this summer I spent as an artist, an artist who draws . . . unemployment benefits. Also, with the help of the rest of my family, I delved into the business of crafts and the marketing thereof. During this furlough I made two trips to the great northern area of Michigan in an effort to distribute some of my southern crafts to the underprivileged and under-educated Northerners. Upon getting there and setting up the booth and getting to meet a lot of the people up there, I found that not all of those Northerners are really that bad. There are quite a few quite amiable Northerners, which leaves me to believe that there must have been, probably pre-war times, an exodus of Southerners to the North and some of our Southern hospitality ust have rubbed off on a few of them and got bred into the society. Unfortunately, their cream of wheat is a poor substitute for good Southern grits.
Now to back up one further step and enlighten you as to how all this came about. My eight year plus association with Hardin Construction came to an end the first of May. The reason given was the economic situation of the nation and the impact on the construction industry. My sixth sense, though, tells me it might have something to do with some Yankee toes I may have stepped on in some previous letters I have written at this seasonal time of the year. During the summer as I enjoyed my tenure as an arteest, I also became a fairly proficient 'House Dad'. One of the duties which I took upon myself was the joy of grocery shopping. Just as Silas Marner would salivate with glee over his money, so I would over finding 50¢ coupons and taking them to a double-up store. I can't tell you the excitement it gives you to stand at a cash register as a girl rings up all of your gorceries on a great long cash register tape, and then as she is just about to tell you some exorbitant amount ofr your five bags of groceries, you whoop out of your back pocket (where you have had them stealthily hidden) a big wad of coupons that would choke a hog, and then the added joy of hearing that cash register ring over and over and over again as those little nickels and dimes come off of your price. I took a great sense of pride to even write down how much I beat them out of every time I went to the store. I am not sure if this affliction came over me from being amongst the Yankees in Florida, or maybe it was from working for Hardin for eight years. I am not sure (I am not bitter). Enough about me, though. Let me tell you about the real rocks of the family.
Fortunately, Susan has been steady as ever, always there to count on. She still works at Fannin Regional Hospital in the Medical Records Department, where she is a radiology transcriptionist. She really enjoys her work there and the people she works with and she has decided to embark upon furthering her career goals and going back to school to become qualified to become a Medical Records Director. I have seen some of her reports she has brought home, and I have firmly come to the conclusion that Doctors take great pride in seeing how many letters of the alphabet they can get into one word, and they always end up with an -osis or -isis at the end of it, that's all I can tell you. If they used some of the medical terminology that I see on some of Susan's papers on the 'Wheel of Fortune' someone could retire as the next Howard Hughes after just one show, if they just got one consonant, you know "Yes, we have an 'F', we have 42 'Fs' in this word!" That, and Vanna White would probably have to build up muscles and look like Arnold Schwarzenegger just to keep up with them.
Melissa, this past year, has entered the dreaded years (TEENS!!). She is solemnly 13 going on 21. I knew she had hit the teenage years when I saw the mice in a parade leaving her room complaining to each other about the noise and the mess and they just couldn't stand it any longer. Even though she is an Honor Student, her hormones and the need for constant companionship cloud any semblance of good judgement.
To compound this intolerable situation for the poor rodents, directly across the hall is the dreaded Carrie's Clogging Hall. My daughter, the clogger. I told Susan I was very proud of Carrie for her efforts in clogging, that she has stuck with it through this past year, but I have drawn the line - when she throws her leg up behind her head and starts twirling around like a windmill, that's it, no more. Where some girls have maybe a nervous habit of twirling their hair aound their finger, or maybe chewing on their fingernails, Carrie breaks into a clogging sequence without even knowing she is doing it. Carrie stomps so hard when clogging, she now requires glasses. We tried to soften the effects of clogging dementia by encouraging her to skate at the new skating rink, but she broke her arm when she found skating and clogging not compatible. The good thing about Carrie and Melissa, though, is at least I have solved the rodent problem around the house.
Well, this has been a very eventful year, and I can only hope the coming year will be just as eventful. Nothing worse than having life become dull. I can only wish to all of you, our friends, that your lives will be just as full as ours has been.. Not everything always goes right, but I have always been of the philosophy that if you don't screw up every once in a while, you haven't done anything anyway.
All of us,
Buddy, Susan, Melissa, and Carrie
Buster, Alex, and Dolly (the dogs),
Tigger and Blackie (the cats),
Skippy and Billy (the parakeets)
wish you a very Merry Christmas and a healthy and very happy New Year.
P.S. If you can't think of what to get us for Christmas this year, just cut us out some coupons and send them to us. It will keep the kids and wife fed and it will give me some fun at the grocery store.
