Yes, we are too cheap and too lazy to send out a Christmas card this year. I apologize for our lameness. Maybe next year we'll try harder to get this is in printed form, but as for now this will have to do.
Here is the Molen Christmas Letter 2009 as written by my husband. Just remember, don't believe everything you read... I can't lie, most of it is true but there are some exaggerations.
December 2009
I’m married to a teenybopper.
Seriously. Either Alisha is going through some sort of mid-life crisis or she is actually going backward in time. I’m telling you, my wife is getting younger!
Less sincere men might say something along these lines to cull some romantic favor: “Baby, you keep looking younger every day!” Sure, I may have uttered that phrase in my best Barry White voice in the past, but this time I’m genuinely concerned!
The preponderance of evidence is overwhelming. I submit the following as proof:
Proof #1 - She is a total Twi-hard.
For those unfamiliar with the term, this is a slightly obsessive reader of the Twilight book series. A Twi-hard is one step above a Twilighter, which is one step higher than a “fanpire.”
How do I know? On our second trip to Forks (in 18 months), she declared her new dream car to be a silver Volvo. At Italian restaurants, she orders nothing but mushroom ravioli. And lastly, I have to assure her that 3 Team Edward t-shirts are MORE than plenty.
** On a side note, I used to side heavily on the side of Jacob, simply out of jealous spite for the fantasy place that Edward occupies in my wife’s heart. However, after hearing Alisha’s sharp intake of breath at the moment in New Moon where Jacob takes off his shirt for the first (of many) times, I am nowfirmly on Team Edward. **
Proof #2 – Her phone shows more calls to SYTYCD’s hotline than Tiger’s phone has deleted texts.
As of this writing, she has cried herself to sleep for 4 straight nights at the prospect that there might not be a So You Think You Can Dance tour this year.
Proof #3 – Skinny jeans.
1 pair is trendy. 2 pair gives you beneficial wardrobe options. 4 pair, however, just signals trouble.
Proof #4 – Miley Cyrus beats Wicked every time.
It was an extravagant birthday surprise for our 8-year old daughter. I assumedthe special trip to the Miley Cyrus concert in
The following week, I took her to see the musical Wicked (considered theatrical bliss for most females) in Seattle on the same night that Miley was performing inTacoma
“I’d rather be watching Miley!”
So who’s to blame? I’m pretty sure it’s not me. While many still consider me to be a delicious piece of eye candy, the daily war I wage against my unruly eyebrows is testimony enough that whatever fountain of youth from which she’s imbibing has not afforded me a single sip.
But if not me, then who? Normally I would just do as any good husband does and simply blame Oprah. Could this be a subconscious reaction to the news that Queen HARPO is leaving the air in 2011? (Maybe now we know why the Mayans ended their calendar in 2012.)
However, there is enough reason for me to believe that it’s the fault of those three unruly offspring of ours. After all, the issues of adolescence are beginning to engulf our lives. For example, we spent the better half of a year debating who was going to give our 11-year old son the next chapter of “The Talk.” (In case you’re wondering, I manned-up and shouldered that responsibility. I learned, however, that it isn’t wise to look up certain anatomical terms in Wikipedia in search for helpful diagrams. )
Additionally, she has to deal with our two prepubescent daughters (ages 8 and 5) whose moods change faster than Nobel can award Obama a Peace Prize. Both are cute as can be, and have many moments of sweetness, and goodness, but both have recently taken to the phrases “ohnoUdidnt” or “that is SO unfair!”
As you can see, she’s out-numbered by these hipsters. Their influence has overrun everything in our lives, even control of the most sanctified of domains – our cars. The speakers of our mini-van have been pushed to their very limits by the driving beats of the Black Eyed Peas, as she feels no choice but to give into their incessant demands.
So, my friends, I ask for your help to save Alisha from those pop-culture ninjas we call our children. I don’t think it’s too late – there’s reason to believe there’s still hope. After all, she still mostly speaks in complete sentences and doesn’t rely on texting as her sole means of communication.
Oops, gotta go. Alisha needs the computer to look up when High School Musical 4is coming out.
Merry Christmas!
The Molens
