Wednesday, December 16, 2009

2009 Layne Family Christmas Letter

As we gaze out our window at swiftly falling snowflakes and home values, we are reminded it is once again that joyous, heartfelt season of Disease on Earth and Shopping at Goodwill.

In addition to stockpiling ammunition and H1N1 vaccine, one of the Layne family’s more significant follies of 2009 was a second experiment with dog ownership.

Taffy (formerly Tiffany) is a Yorkie-Poo, emphasis on the “Poo.” Scientists say a dog’s nose is 10,000 times more powerful than a human’s, which explains how Taffy can detect the intoxicating aroma of another creature’s filth from hundreds of miles away. Pampered and spoiled, she spends her days comatose on the back of the couch or gazing sleepily out the window, dreaming of feces while plotting her escape from captivity. At night, she shakes off the fatigue from her day to prowl the dark recess of our neighborhood, skulking about in the shadows, poking her nose into shrubbery, and begging fights with skunks and raccoons. If the veterinarian hadn’t assured us otherwise, we might have believed she was a mutant house cat, Paris Hilton, or a US Congressman.

Needless to say, Amanda and Allyson adore Taffy who has become the rope in their daily tug-o-war of affections, leaving Taffy both terrified of Allyson and several inches longer stem-to-stern. Truth be told, Taffy has been a terrific learning experience for the girls. Not only has caring for her taught them responsibility, but owing to their gratitude for finally getting a “dog” (and news reports of a nearby cougar siting), Mark no longer needs threaten to smear Taffy with bacon grease and chain her out back at night to get the girls to behave.

Taffy tolerates Mark (no doubt because at some fundamental level, he’s made of meat). Though not thrilled about having another mouth to feed, Mark is likewise learning to accept Taffy. For the benefit of the kids, he has even taught her a few simple commands like “heel,” “sit,” “baa like a lamb,” and “taste like chicken.” Though progress has been slow, it seems she gets a little better – and more plump and juicy – every day.

In one of those Norman Rockwell-like moments which make the many travails of parenthood seem almost worthwhile, Allyson declared if anything tragic ever happened to Karen, leaving Mark as her sole caregiver, she would kill herself. In related news, Amanda announced if [due to a bizarre genetic mishap] she ever happens to have a hillbilly baby, she will name it Heidi. Their work as parents now complete, Karen and Mark moved to Phoenix.

This past winter, Allyson played indoor soccer. In a move rarely attempted by players her age, she impressed coaches and fans alike by removing both pigtails and converting them into a high pony tail, not only during the middle of the game, but while one of her teammates scored on their own goalie. In other sporting news, spring marked the end of Amanda’s competitive dancing career. She has opted to devote her newly acquired free time to drinking the world dry of root beer and brushing up on her SpongeBob.

This summer, the family again traveled east to spend Fourth of July in New Jersey with the Rothmans. Along the way, they stopped to visit fascinating, historically significant places like the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, the Empire State Building, and Toledo. Everyone had a fabulous time except Ally who, convinced the automotive GPS is a diabolical, free-thinking cyborg bent on marooning her family in some remote, uninhabited place like Iowa, cried the entire trip.

Both girls continue to grow and mature: Amanda into a remarkable young lady, and Allyson – owing to her quick temper, pugilistic tendencies, and ability to conjure flatulence at will – a teenage boy. Everyone who assured K & M the fighting would subside as the girls grew older is an idiot. Not a day goes by the two rapidly aging parents don’t wish they had six more daughters.

In November, Mark attended his 30 year high school reunion. Though very few of his classmates recalled attending high school with a hot air balloon salesman and part time lumberjack named John Malkovich, all were delighted to see John again after so many years.

Karen is adjusting to Ally being in school all day which has freed up more time for her to watch reruns of black-and-white 1960’s television serials in stunning high definition. The constant emotional turmoil of living with a wife, two daughters, two female hamsters, and a female dog has rendered Mark so irrational he has actually considered taking up golf. So far, the medication is helping.

In keeping with this year’s theme, let us pause to recall the words of famous scholar Groucho Marx who said, “Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read.”

Merry Christmas to All, and to All Good Grief,

Karen, Mark, Amanda, Ally, and Taffy