Dear Friends and Family –

For those who are familiar with the Allred Holiday letter (in which we have only reported the awful things that happened to us so that you, the recipients of this gift, might feel a little better about your own lives) are breaking the tradition of more than 20 years. 2020 has caused so much discord, disruption and suffering that making fun of the bad did not seem appropriate. Because many have inquired about the letter, I will offer a few assurances:

            Robb has not changed. He still argues with the television, has “trigger commercials” that set him off; he argues with the dogs and himself. His newest quandary is that he can’t get “the look” he wants when constantly reenacting the commercials he hates to show me how it should have been done. He’s seven years old. Ironically, he did care about a dove which had taken refuge in our garage & pooped on everything, though periodically whispering, “…because its not dove season …yet.” While we were out of town, Kerri had to come ‘check on the dove


Kerri sent a text:

‘Kyle almost died tonight by my hand. Let me set the scene for you: Kyle and I finished a long and ugly run, were tired but we (me) decided to check on this IDIOT bird. She has an egg in there, too, so we can’t move her. Oddly enough, she wasn’t there. It’s dark in the garage— pitch black— and I’m looking around with my phone light. Just as I turn, she emerged out of NOWHERE, flapping her terrible wings and making vicious coo sounds as she came at us. My phone light cast huge shadows behind her and I panicked. She flapped into the ceiling, still coming at us and making those sounds, and I bulldozed into Kyle. That lumbering ginger…would…not…move, so I had to help him. With my hand in the small of his back and my other on the back of his neck, I pushed him into the door and left him in the dust.  You can’t trust doves, people. They’ll wait for you to relax your guard and then go in for the kill.’ 

My daughter, the writer/dove hater. I’m so proud.

 

Meanwhile, I interviewed Katharine Switzer (Don’t know who that is? She’s a sports icon.) but had to borrow Michelle’s (sister) laptop for zoom, didn’t notice that my vegetarian sister had made her backdrop a pork factory scene so when I got the legendary Switzer online and she asked politely but concerned, “Oh, where are you?,” this was when I realized I am but an amateur playing a professional’s game. Its okay, though, because later Michelle ate a meat pizza so it all evened out. (She was not hospitalized)  

 

Katie led a workout in which her male student ran out of the room and barfed. Weirdly, I felt proud. Later she told me that her hope is “to make millions more vomit” as she prepares to upload fitness videos in the new year. My daughter, the fitness influencer. I’m so proud. And Tommy, after using the pandemic as his reason not to get a haircut or shave became so startingly similar to Chewbacca that Ella (grandbaby) was afraid of him. If Tommy was in the house, Ella never took her eyes off of him because you can’t trust Chewbacca, people. They’ll wait for you to relax your guard and then go in for the kill. Tommy let Ella’s mother shave his head. My son, the Viking. I am so proud. Also, we’re pretty sure our house in haunted. Or we have really angry squirrels. Mostly, we’re glad 2020 is coming to an end and pray for hope, health & prosperity.

      Love,                                                       

   The Allreds


 

                                              


 …as for Ella, this time next year, we hope to be sharing more news about Ella’s little brother or sister

 

                                    See ya next year!

                                                                                                       (2021 doves will be more peaceful!)




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