Dear Friends and Family,
Oh, what a fabulous year in the lives of the Stanfa-Stanley family!
I know I always start my annual holiday letter with details of all my travels. But I’ve decided exotic islands and quaint European towns are so over-rated. Besides, who wants to hassle with airport security? (Not me, since that last unwarranted skirmish over my carry-on at Detroit Metro. Way overblown! Only two of the four handguns were even loaded!) So this year, I wondered, “Why not find true happiness in my own backyard?” I bought me one of those inflatable pools from Walmart, pumped it up (four unfiltered packs a day haven’t hurt these lungs a bit), slathered myself with baby oil (funny how great I still look in that bikini from 1983—only a bit snug), and cranked the Snoop Dogg! It was like my own private resort, especially when two weeks later—by some wonderful coincidence—all my neighbors installed tall privacy fences!
My two grown children continue to amaze me—far more charming and successful, I’m sure, than any of yours. They are both out on parole now, and I’m lucky to be seeing lots of them, what with their work-release programs and all. We will be taking it easier on the holiday libations this year, since they’re each in court-ordered rehab. (Fortunately, I don’t think spiked eggnog really counts. Doesn’t AA grant a dispensation for that?) And though I hesitate on sharing exciting news prematurely, suffice it to say that one of them may soon be blessing me with the pitter-patter of a grandchild’s feet! His girlfriend, a very successful dancer at a Windsor club, already has five children by five different fathers, so I’m hopeful it’s only a matter of time!
All our pets are perfect as ever, and so very worth the $850 we’re paying in monthly veterinary bills. (Thank God my boys enjoy eating generic kibble too!) We’re thinking of helping out the local pound, which I understand has had some bad press recently. With a dozen dogs roaming the yard, I figure no one will dare call me a crazy cat lady anymore! (“Crazy” is so inaccurate anyway, since the cocktail of meds I’m on has eliminated nearly all the voices in my head!)
Of course, this holiday letter wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t touch on how my career is flourishing! The offers never cease, and I’m sure I’ll have a publishing contract as soon as my last few threats, I mean queries, are received. (A special shout-out to all my fans in prison! My boys sure know how to make friends—and this caring mom figured she’d help by smuggling them a few prescription meds for big-house currency.)
Finally, I’m pleased to report that my own personal life has been greatly blessed this year! I’ve found true love at last (and wouldn’t be surprised if next year’s letter brings you news of wedding bells)! We just need to figure out a few details first, like his telling that dreadful wife of his (she just doesn’t understand him, really), their likely messy divorce (fingers crossed that he gets to keep the double-wide), and those far-fetched mass murder charges he faces. But I’m certain love will eventually conquer all!
In closing, I want to thank you for your treasured friendship and love. Sadly, we don’t keep in touch as often as we should. But I’m hopeful that will change this year, once all your restraining orders against me expire!
Until then, with much love,
Sherry and the Boys