Holiday 2018



               
Dear Friends and Family                                                              

    
Note: If you've never read the annual Allred holiday letter, here's the concept: Since 1999, we've pretty much been sharing everything that went wrong so that you can feel so much better about your own lives. You're welcome.

              We started out the new year by looking for a new house and Robb was arguing with the GPS. Tommy piped up from the back seat. “Dad. You know what this chapter of your life is called? Dementia: The Prologue.” Robb replied, “Hey, Buddy, do you know what this chapter in your life is called? Toothless: The Beginning.” . . .  And here we go.
              You’ll recall last year Kerri and Kyle lost everything to Hurricane Harvey in Houston. Not to be outdone, Katie called from San Marcos:  Katie: Momma! I’m okay but my apartment is on fire and flooding.
               This event would later become known as the exploding flood.
               What? Is this some kind of test!? She was so calm I thought it was a joke. Besides, can an apartment flood AND be on fire at the same time? Yes. Yes, it can. Just two months later, we discovered that a refrigerator “repair” in our own home actually resulted in the copper tubing snapping and, unbeknownst to us, flooding under our kitchen, dining room, and entrance area floors causing thousands of dollars of damage. I lost my office area, a snake came in through one of the knocked-out walls, we had chemical headaches and NO ONE will come pick up this fridge but Robb’s big grind? His fury came when a baseball from the park behind us came over the fence and dented his truck. He stewed. He boiled. He wanted to know why the coach of the Little League did not come over, knock on our door and say, ‘Hey, I’m sorry.’ But the coach probably knows about the curmudgeon Robb Allred who has arguments with Alexa, the virtual voice assistant (not to be confused with Alex, the wife, who refuses to engage), and thought better of it.  We’ve got way bigger problems but Robb is plotting how he will lie in wait for the coach next week. I said, “He’ll only deny it. Are you really going to confront him in front of children?” . . . What he said next cannot be put in print but the short answer is: Yes. He also said the real “lesson” would come when he ripped the backstop out of the ground and no one could ever play baseball again but only after the small children got a firsthand look at what happens to a coach that doesn’t apologize for a foul ball.
Yes. That seems fair and rational.
In the “what were we thinking” category, we got a second blue/red heeler mix. In our defense, we got her very early in the morning so it was dark so we didn’t see how truly inbred she is. Robb has “a thing” about being licked so when he goes to pet her, he lumber-hovers over her in what he perceives to be a cautious don’t-lick-me posture but actually looks like a giant angry hairy grizzly about to kill her so she puddles every time. Inbreds should not be intimidated that way because I’m pretty sure part of being an inbred means having a weak bladder.
Speaking of hairy people, Tommy has refused to shave or regularly cut his hair. He’s pretty much the only English-speaking guy at work and, forced to learn Spanish to understand what’s going on, discovered that his nickname “Pelón” translates to “Big Hair” or “Big Head,” which you’d think would be a tip off but …
Robb insists that we eat new places we’ve never been to before because he doesn’t want people to know him. We get to a new place and he starts up:

      ROBB: Would you rather fight a bear or a mountain lion to the death?
(Note: I hate this game with him because I never answer right even though it should be MY choice what I want to fight to the death)
                  ALEX: Bear
                  ROBB: I forgot to mention that her baby cubs are watching.

                I hate him.                          
                We sold Tommy’s truck and FINALLY got him a new one which came none too soon. I was so tired of getting in my own car to have the radio set to the Spanish channel, blaring mariachi music. Tommy has gone total immersion. He even talks with a Spanish accent. This big, hairy white kid, who goes by Tomás now, is speaking with a Spanish accent. Hey, buddy, when are you getting home? Tomás: Faive o’clock [heavy accent] Me: Okay, grea— what? Are you speaking with an accent?  Tomás: No. [heavy accent]
                Michelle totaled her car so Robb helped her get a new car, too, and the car dealership did an excellent job cleaning up what we’re pretty sure was crime scene evidence in the backseat. Michelle says as long as she doesn’t look behind her while driving, she feels pretty positive about things. She also turns up the radio up to avoid hearing suspicious noises from under the hood.
                No holiday letter is ever complete without reporting how our vacation went (and if you are new here, please note that ours are always filled with hospital visits and some measure of fear). It started with locking ourselves out of the house, making Kerri climb 30 feet high to crawl through a tiny window, and, ultimately, kicking in our door. Midway, a visit to the E/R in Gunnison, Colorado, ending with leaving Robb in Colorado. I’ll leave you to your imaginations. Sidenote: I saw Kerri’s itinerary for the honeymoon she & Kyle never had (thank you, Hurricane Harvey) in Norway and near as I can tell, it involves never sitting down and sleeping in an ice cave. Kerri! You’re going to kill your husband! Let the boy live, Kerri, let him live! Don’t continue the Allred vacations!
                I got to meet some amazing literary agents, including the Marisa Corvisiero, who said, “You’re like Forrest Gump.” Keep smiling, I said to myself, Forrest Gump, though odd, was a blockbuster hit. Maybe she smells $$.  She finished, “But in a good way.” Ah.  Note to self: Re-watch Forrest Gump.
                I completed the novel, The Body. The awesome thing about my friends is that they understand that they will often find themselves in my books (fiction and non-) so when I told Audra that she was a true inspiration but, alas, she was also a prostitute and had to die (but not because she’s a prostitute – completely unrelated), she just asked, “Well, was I a high-priced prostitute?” Absolutely!
                As an author, it is critically important to me that my children might also share in the art of expression. While Kerri continues to teach violin/piano & art, she is also working on her next novel! Tommy, hoping to become fluent in both Spanish and French, and a newly declared language major, also saw the need in creating an employee file for “Shadow,” the company dog at work. Shadow is bilingual so he really should have his own file. But true skills were put into play when a family came in to the veterinarian clinic where Katie works. The client explained that their child was asking for a unicorn and SO FIRM in her belief that Santa would deliver because, indeed, she had been a very good girl, they did not want to dash her hopes. Perhaps, they asked, if Dr. Dan could explain that he didn’t treat unicorns, the little girl would acquiesce…

UNICORN LETTER ...  WE DO BELIEVE! 

                Katie cracked her knuckles, looked at her co-workers and said, “I got this!” She’s been in training for this moment her entire life! Our hellish vacations have not been for nothing! Go, Katie, go! She wrote:

Dear Madison:
I am told you wanted a unicorn this year for Christmas, but unfortunately, I do not see unicorns. Due to their chronic, untreatable migraines, I decided early in my career not to see unicorns as patient here. As you know, they are also quite large and cannot fit into our building. Their horns are much too long. Unicorns also have a very special diet that is hard to maintain as a pet owner. A juicy, round fruit grows from a Snoodle Tree at the top of the Himalayan Mountains in Asia. Because of this, unicorns much prefer to live atop the mountains with their friends and snacks.
Maybe one day we can have unicorns as pets, but for right now, it is my medical opinion that they need to live in the wild. I hope you have a Merry Christmas and get to see one someday – in the wild! Not as a pet.
Sincerely,
Dr. Dan
                                                                                 …there is an art form to texting as well:

                                     
Robb: Katie, how old are you?
Katie:  Um, 21? Why?
                                     Robb: When I was your age, I was 22.
                                     Katie: What does that mean?
                                     Robb: Sigh. It's so hard explaining a joke to you.

Robb: We're coming oiy.                                      Robb: I've stirred this soup like 6x. Where are u?
Robb: We're coming oiu                                       Alex:  Almost home
Robb: OUT!                                                          Robb: Well, at this rate, might as well say I made
Katie: Smart phones aren't for everyone                          the soup, I've been at this so long
                                                                               Alex: I just read this out loud & everyone laughed
                                                                              Robb: Everyone? Are you at a social gathering?
                                                                              Alex:  Checkout. Psycho. 


                Kyle got a new job with a vicious commute, Robb got kidney stones, I had foot surgery and the Colonel escaped AGAIN! One of the directors at the facility where my dad is said, “You have to know we cringe when you post on Facebook that your dad escapes.” But, in fairness, 1) he literally wrote the book on escape and evade tactics in warfare, 2) he’s a highly trained intelligence officer who picks locks. You think memory care is going to hold him? Still, she said the facility could not help but notice that “People on Facebook are cheering him on!” And all I can say to this is … YAHHH!!!!  Go, Colonel, go!!!
                As we close this year, Michelle and I spent our parents’ anniversary in what would have marked their 57th with just our dad. Bittersweet is that he had no idea. Instead, we look to our new friends at Isle at Watercrest and get to witness true angels on earth (caregivers!) and have adopted new moms (and dads). “The Hoverer” has taken a page from the Colonel, and hovers near doors for escape. “The Hummer” distracts you with her humming which include not-so-veiled threats in the hum. “Hmmm, get that away from me or I’ll slap the sh** out of you, hmmm.” Wait. What? “Hmmm.” Maria, the resident, not to be confused with caregiver Maria, pretends not to speak English unless she sees me with donuts. Then, she’s fluent. We love them all so much. What is the true definition of love? When vegetarian Michelle pulls apart Daddy’s bacon for him with her fingers and actively ignores my chants, “Now lick your fingers! Lick your fingers! You know you want to!” There is NOTHING like getting a room full of residents to cheer you on; too bad they won’t remember later how hilarious I am.
                While we all can’t have a Snoodle Tree, the one thing I’ve learned from memory care is friends and snacks are most important!
                We hope you have a great, happy, healthy new year and may you one day see your own unicorn in the wild!

                                                Love,
                                                                Robb, Alex, Kerri & Kyle, Katie
                                                                                and Tomás

                                 


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