The Sixth Annual Boring Mitchell Holiday Letter (2006)

WARNING: This letter’s side effects may include nausea, insomnia, narcolepsy, glaucoma, anxiety, depression, incontinence, bird flu, E. Coli, or nasty paper cuts. Consult your doctor if you are nursing, pregnant, or may become pregnant.

I suspected 2006 would be disappointing when Katie Couric announced she’d leave the Today Show. My suspicion was confirmed when the number of celebrity babies exceeded the combined total of the price of super unleaded, Mel Gibson’s blood alcohol content, and Britney Spears’ IQ. At least you have this lame recounting of our lackluster year for comfort in these troubled times.

We’ve been in our new home a year now and have come to appreciate small town life. It’s like Mayberry without the catchy theme song. The tiny post office displays a cross on its wall; the Home Depot has only one set of doors; and we don’t even have a Starbucks. Yet. At school, kids celebrate all the politically-incorrect holidays, contests have winners and losers, and they still play dodgeball. The best thing about living here is that you can usually get across town in under 10 minutes, depending on the deer. Our status as country folk became official when Mike bought a pair of Wrangler jeans at the Tractor Supply. (I try to look past that.) Luke’s hick-boy quote of the year: “Too bad that burn ban’s goin’ on, ‘cause I’d really like to find a snake and set it on fire.”

The kids filled the year with karate, basketball or soccer, various camps, scouts, and guilting me into spending money on book fairs, fundraisers, and clothes that fit them. In their free time, they attended school and sometimes even completed their homework.

I’m proud to say Katy has inherited my expressive mouth. Her age-inappropriate catchphrase of the year: “Mmmm, Mama like!” At Walgreens, as I used the debit keypad, she warned me, “You’re sticking your middle finger up.” I said, “But I don’t mean it this time.” The clever clerk said, “Only when she’s driving.” (How’d he know that?) When she tried on some jeans I got her at a flea market: “If you’d bought these at a real store, we could return them for the right size.” Now that she’s 7, she can grasp some of the complexities of this modern world: “I know why you watched cartoons only on Saturdays when you were a kid. ‘Cause y’all didn’t have much electricity back then.” By the end of the summer, she described herself as “BORED-ified.” My attempts at stern discipline are often met with an exaggerated salute and a “Sir-Yes-Ma’am.” In spite of her endearing insolence, she earned her orange and green belts in karate. And as a result of our neglect, she’s reading like a 3rd grader. For Halloween, the kids reversed roles. Luke was a devil while Katy was an angel. Ironically, he lost his pitchfork and she lost her halo.

After Pluto was stripped of its planet status, I was forced to get rid of the kids’ solar system placemats. This was a welcome relief as Uranus (thanks to Luke) was starting to cause too much dinnertime disturbance. Luke continues to float through life with a head full of ideas and no sense of urgency whatsoever. I realized at church one morning that he had rakishly donned a blue flip flop with a brown sandal. He still reads several books at once, and would read in the shower if we let him. He also writes lovely stories. One engaging title: The Intergalactic Turd. Look for it at Barnes & Noble soon. When he’s not reading or writing, he’s exploring the woods around our house, marking his territory, and firing his BB gun. He’s already a better shot than Dick Cheney. He just turned 10 and has begun to offer pearls of wisdom. When Katy asked for more of the cookies he had given her: “Sorry, Katy. When it comes to charity, you don’t get seconds.” He handily earned his blue belt, and should become a decent athlete just in time for puberty.

Mike was promoted to Lt. Colonel in February. We’re glad he doesn’t make us salute him. In public. He continues to tolerate his demanding F-16 gig, even though he was forced to participate in an airshow at the coast during Spring Break. In April, he spent 2 weeks in Arizona while I took my yearly act-like-a-lawyer trip to D.C. And in October, he performed in an airshow for the Confederate Air Force. Fortunately for us, he hasn’t yet been tapped for any shows in the Middle East. He was brutally April-fooled when I scared him with a falsified pregnancy test. (Let’s just say I got the result I wanted.) In May, he went to Colorado on his Brokeback Mountain trip for a week of "poker-playing and fishing." Then he proudly introduced a new addition to the family. The Harley. That’s what a fighter pilot dirt biker with a mid-life crisis does. (I got a new Yukon as a consolation prize.) After I let some resentment go, he got me a helmet. Now all I need is the tube top. When he’s not zipping around the hill country on his bike, he’s buying or installing parts for it. We celebrated our 15th anniversary in Austin with a Texas Longhorns game and some much-needed kid-free time. This year, I agreed to try harder to keep the house clean, while he agreed to lower his expectations.

Now that both kids are in school, my home-office veterans’ law practice should be thriving. Instead, my lack of self-discipline gives me too many multi-tasking, attention-deficit-inducing opportunities. On one of my breaks, I discovered what happens when a red crayon goes through the dryer with a load of whites. While sending faxes, I rearrange furniture, sweep up kids’ toenail clippings, and work on the rock garden I’m creating with all the playground pea gravel that ends up in our carpet. As I sit on hold, I waste time and money buying and selling junk on eBay. While printing a brief, I found out that, left unchecked, dust, cobwebs, and dog hair can intermingle under a couch to take on the appearance of a large dead rodent. On my 40th birthday, I got a 10-years-early invitation to join the AARP. At first I was offended, but those discounts come in handy. My mid-life crisis involves what I call short-arm syndrome. If I can hear my cell phone and find it, then I can’t seem to hold it far away enough in time to focus on the caller ID. And sure, I look cool with my little iPod, but I can’t read what I’m listening to. In July, I helped my mom hold a garage sale. There’s nothing more spirit-crushing than bickering in the Texas summer heat over the price of a 25-cent item and feeling the defeat when you let it go for a dime. In my free time, I think about scrapbooking, selling Beauticontrol, and practicing yoga. Mike was kind enough to offer to MapQuest my gym for me as I’d apparently forgotten how to get there.

Now for the sad part: In late March, on my Dad’s 64th birthday, we found out his melanoma from 5 years ago had returned. (Sunscreen your kids like their lives depend on it.) We were blessed with one short month of precious goodbye time full of laughter, memories, and him bossing us around while showing more grace and courage than we thought humanly possible. We spent those fleeting treasured days holding on and letting go all at once. Our days and holidays will never be the same. Nothing stays the same, but life is still more sweet than bitter.

For next year: I resolve to floss more often, use more coupons, and maybe iron something; Mike wants to stop calling people idiots in front of the kids; Luke hopes to say no to crack by wearing belts that prevent the display of his Incredible Hulk boxers; and Katy plans to overcome the visceral terror of having her hair brushed. The kids will eventually get over the fact that we didn’t camp out for a PlayStation 3, and continue to suffer with their old PS2.

We’re grateful for the love of friends and family, and we wish y’all joyful holidays and a 2007 full of peace, health, and happiness.


Love,
Jill, Mike, Luke & Katy