Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from Ann and Bill Moser!
Our year in review:
January: Both of us sign up for free (to senior citizens) Drawing I at Prairie State Junior College. We are old enough to be the professor’s parents, of course, and grandparents to the rest of the students in the class. We don’t feel that old! Ann is writing a cookbook. Bill swims a mile three times a week. Ann does 180 crunches at the health club three mornings a week. If it’s a contest, she wins!
February: The art class homework is getting us down - we’re adult over-achievers, of course. Ann says she doesn’t have time to go to the grocery, and certainly can’t vacuum too. We’re in the first year of her five-year plan not to clean house, and she begins to let go. Bill takes over vacuuming - and the dog hair in the family room swirls around our ankles.
March: A sweet child at church announces she wants work to pay for summer camp. We hire her to vacuum. The house is clean once more, and she’s cheap. Meanwhile, neighbors enjoy the results of Ann’s test recipes.
April: Ramsfield Press gets manuscripts submitted. One is apparently a memoir and is 600 pages long. The protagonist can’t get ahead because of her personal hygiene, and Bill wants to put her in the Slap Room. He decides not to publish the book. Shannon (who chose Bill her Dad) is getting married, so she and Ann go shopping for a chosen-mother-of-the-bride outfit.
May: Our drawing class is graded on our attendance and following directions rather than talent, thank goodness. We both get A’s in Drawing I. Grandson David graduates from Beloit College with a degree in International Relations. Daughter Shannon gets married and Bill officiates. Bill says he thought Venice was the most beautiful experience he had in his life until he saw Shannon in her wedding dress.
June: Ann’s hearing aids die and she buys new ones. Grandson David takes a job in Chile, working for a pittance. He loses weight. Bill goes to Clockhouse Writers’ Conference at Goddard College in Plainfield, VT, for a week.
July: Ann has weekly trips to the audiologist for tweaking of her hearing aids. They don’t work as well as the old ones. Bill speaks more loudly. And enunciates.
August: Ann finishes her cookbook and Bill decides to make it Ramsfield Press’ first project and trial publication. The neighbors are disappointed her culinary experiments have ended. Bill learns the very complicated Adobe In Design. Derek’s daughter Ella has her second birthday. Time flies!
September: Classes start again at Prairie State Junior College. We both take American Sign Language (we want to communicate beyond the universal digit) and Bill signs up for Drawing II with the same great instructor. Our girl who vacuums has too much school work and Bill becomes the lackadaisical cleaning lady once more.
October: We send Ann’s book to the printer. American Sign Language class is based around a dictionary instead of conversation, with up to 144 new signs each week. Bill can sign, “I’m drowning in American Sign Language class.” But we persevere.
November: Ann’s cookbook finally arrives from the printer and we are delighted that it looks so good. We start marketing and distributing it. Bill figures out Pay Pal so we can sell Ann’s Cooking From Scratch on line. Derek’s son Gavin has his first birthday. Time flies.
December: Ann bakes - and sells her cookbook. Bill takes training to become an adult literacy tutor. For the first time in 18 years we put up and decorate our Christmas tree without help.
We wish everyone a wonderful, prosperous, happy, and healthy new year!
As always, feel free to comment below.
2 comments:
Bill, I love the monthly review. I did that for a couple of years, calendar and journals in hand, and then I stopped. Yours is funny--I love the "universal single digit" reference.
Here's a glimpse of a New Year's Eve in the mid-seventies:
Each year I'd give a NYE party and invite friends over for a pot-luck. I always made black beans, sangria (it was New Orleans, and sometimes we still had a/c on!), salsa and maybe guacamole. This one year I added or substituted cheese enchiladas. (Note: no matter that very few people ended up coming [every year!], or if they did, mine was the first stop on a round of parties--I still prepared for a huge crowd). So, the two pans of enchiladas are on the stove, sending enticing aromas, and I have a minute to glance about the kitchen. Aha! I say. I've never tested the fire extinguisher. I have a minute, why not do it now?
Perhaps you know what comes next, if you've ever done this. I grab the huge canister, squeeze the trigger, and this blast of yellow powder comes out, scaring the piss out of me, and I was unable to make it stop. I want you to know that EVERY surface, every nook and cranny of that kitchen was covered in yellow powder, and it's only a few hours before the party. I think I was still cleaning up when people began dribbling in. Thank God the enchiladas were mostly covered w/ foil. I removed those what weren't, and served the rest. That's one wild hair I'll not give into again.
Love! that story.
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