On the 4th Day of Christmas….

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Excerpt from The Butter Pecan Diaries

Hope all is well with you, the kids, the businesses, the retirements. I can’t believe the year has passed so quickly – yada, yada, yada. I figured it was a fitting way to start this narrative. The year has been quiet and uneventful; I also have some pristine waterfront property in Jersey that may interest you. Badda Bing (too much?)

Anyway, the year arrived quietly. A refreshing occurrence for me. Work was slow, no immediate emergency room visits, all the cars were functioning and the IRS hadn’t gotten around to dunning me for yet another year of back taxes. What with the Beamers, diamond bracelets and health insurance premiums who has change left for the government?

Jerry started the year by having a small procedure. Health insurance identified it as surgery, but he dislikes the word so I humor him. He had a small ‘thing’ removed from the side of his nose. Twelve stitches and a 1½ inch half scar, but he still rocks my world and is now in great health. He so looked like Dennis Farina in Get Shorty. His knees are doing beautifully – not a candidate for Cirque de Soleil, but maybe a short stint at Ice Capades. He has forgone Spanish at work and has adopted Russian as his second language. Nothing quite as sexy as a West Virginia farm boy blurting: Вы потеряли Холодную войну – возвращаются, чтобы работать – Ya’ll! You lost the Cold War – go back to work – Ya’ll.

Rosie was promoted to Catering Chef and transferred from the The Inn to The Summers Restaurant – am told it is a fabulous eatery. When I have the triple platinum credit card required to have dinner there I will let you know. She is going to Marseilles for her Christmas vacation and will be spending the summer in the South of France. Am sure Kings Island was her second choice. If I were taller, blonder, flat-chested and a space between my front teeth, I’d be living there too. Rosie opted for an exciting Thanksgiving by inviting the family to spend nine hours in the GW emergency room. Thankfully not an accident with her chef’s knife. Her choice this year was pneumonia, but she has recovered nicely. I don’t believe the ER doctor that tended her will send me a holiday card. I have no idea why he bristled at my suggestions for breaking her 104° temperature. After all, she lived in my house for eighteen years – where was he?

Wynonna had her car bruised only once this year – the airbags exploded without warning in a parking garage. After they exploded she couldn’t see where she was driving and thankfully missed the Corvette, but took part of the retaining wall. That was way exciting. A quick trip to the ER and a $4k claim for new airbags started her, and her insurance carriers year off spectacularly. One one hospital visit for her – she had an ulcer that perforated. You’d think after spending the major portion of her life in my household stress would manifest as mere annoyance. She is gainfully employed and does something with a computer and its language. I guess they talk to each other now. It’s a blessing to be oblivious to the technology around me. Give me a Kitchenaid and unbleached flour.

Scarlett, well, my hips have continued to expand, my chin has gracefully repositioned on my collarbone and my arms have wholly filled my new “mature woman” sized blouse. Color me full-filled and working on contentment. No hospital visits for me, but am stocking up on Sports Cream and something called Blue Emu Oil for my newly visiting arthritis and, no, I don’t care how they get the oil from the emu. I no longer chase the FedEx man to Dulles airport worrying about some CEO getting his golden parachute, golden handcuffs or outrageous compensation package. I no longer fret about incomplete PowerPoint presentations, Fed Ex packages or consultants proffering writing advice when they cannot string together two sentences without the editorial aid of their assistants.

We are happy and healthy – or at least making a valiant effort. May God Bless us all and continue covering us with His Grace.

Love ya, Scarlett


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