flightless hag

A chronicle of the adventures of birdwoman: a lonely, talentless freak who wanders the internet in search of entertainment.

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Location: Philly

I'm a 40-something married white female, survivor of weight watchers, avid reader of pulp. Dogs (not cats), extreme right (handed, not politics), ENTJ, alto, wanna-be knitter.

December 27, 2013

So now we've come to the end of the road

{{But I can't let go
It's unnatural (you!) you belong to me (me!) I belong to you... Come... to the end of the road... }}

what? What! Oh, sorry. The title got me singing that old song by those Philly heroes: Boys II Men. I don't know how heroic they are, but they've got some smooth sounds.

At any rate, we are at the end of the old Chronicles! 2010 was published online, as was 2011

So, though you haven't asked for it, here are the Chronicles for 2013. May they help you understand you own blessings in a way you never truly could. Well, unless you watch one of those television disasters like Hoarders or Jersey Shore or that HoneyBooBoo train wreck...

Just when you thought it was safe to go on the internets…
The Rogers Chronicles
Triskaidekaphobic Edition!

(now with internets links!)

You thought we were done? Wishful thinking! We “adults” are firmly in our forties, so this means we are content with not acknowledging the passing of time with crap like “annual” Christmas cards.

Besides, we do so little of interest, we could probably skip 5 years, and no one would notice, or care! But we also have little to do with our time, so here you have it.

2012 was the year of the apocalypse. The End Of The World. John and Betsy are firm believers in anything the Mayans came up with. After all, their society has been so successful through the ages… So we decided to throw away our life savings. One of our flagrant expenses was vacations.

Of course, John couldn’t be a complete profligate. John’s endlessly generous parents offered to take the kids on a cruise. John said: only if one of us (me! me!) gets to go, too. He saw “free vacation” and just jumped at the offer. Understanding that getting to see their grandchildren was conditional upon seeing the parents, the elder Rogers hesitantly agreed, and the deal was struck. Tickets were bought. Swim suits ironed. (No, not really. Can you see Betsy ironing anything? Seriously!)

Betsy bowed out, because she is a grim person who shies away from the idea of sunshine and beaches. She chose, instead, to go to that bastion of tourism: Newfoundland.  That’s somewhere between Maine and Greenland.

Because it is so shunned by tourist dollars, it’s a rather pricey destination. But the forecast was worth it. Betsy was promised cold, showery days in July. She got sunshine instead. This, surprisingly, did not improve her stellar mood. Her friend, Lisa, deserves an award for putting up with her. (Indeed, John “tried” to pay her, but the check bounced.)

Meanwhile, on the cruise, Tim rapidly found the friend of lifetime: Jayden. The dynamic duo was inseparable for the cruise. Dad may not have known or cared where Tim was, but some passengers did. Talk about a captive audience! ;) The Rogers sure were a popular bunch on that boat!

Perhaps Jayden’s father felt the Moth was a bad influence, as this “friend of a lifetime” has been strangely silent since.

Sean got to scuba on the cruise, and he turned out to be better at it than his dad - who doesn’t like pressure of any kind. The Stinky One also found the endless soda fountain on the big boat, as our dentist bill seems to have confirmed.

The last of the Mayan splurge was spent on the house. We spent a bundle of money on a new roof and siding. They still look crappy, but at least they aren’t moldy like the old stuff. Side bennie: Sean’s not sneezing all the time any more, so he doesn’t interrupt John’s naps!! Betsy still does, though, with her incessant harping.

This past summer, we did not vacation. We did indulge a bit with our Fresh Air Fund child – trying to
Ghost Tour - tolerable with the aid of ethanol
fool someone into thinking that we have a “normal” suburban life. We went to this place called the Great Wolf Lodge. It’s like a cross between that hotel from the Shining and a water park. The kids enjoyed it, and John ignored that crazy butler dude who kept telling him that his kids needed… correcting. 

Betsy’s Subaru finally “retired” - it practically caught fire when she was driving the kids – PLUS the fresh air fund kid – home from the movies. After much swearing on Betsy’s part (and giggling and note-taking on the boys’), they made it home. She tried five different charities before one agreed to take it for $500.  She thought they would give her $500. They thought otherwise.

On the job front, things are continually exciting. Which is never good.

John got a promotion – kind of like that deal where you “volunteer” because everyone else backed up
Can You Say Outsiders?
when they asked for a volunteer to step forward. He’s not about to let that honor go to his head, though. He’s decided that he’s lonely working the night and Saturday shift – even though it gets him away from that Harpy he married, he now has no one to grumble and gripe at. So he gets to “ask” others to come in on those shifts with him a la “Office Space.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GjJCdCXFslY

Betsy continues to harangue the young, defenseless children in her school, while getting paid to do so. What a deal!

Speaking of school, the boys haven’t been as successful as they had wished. Their game-boys (hey, those things are cheap now!) have been confiscated since they each brought home a bad grade in the last year or so. Sean’s was in science (science!) and Tim’s was in Math. Sigh. We figure there might have been a mistake, since both boys got “acceptable” or “above acceptable” for handwriting. And we’ve seen that chicken scratch. Ergo: mistake. Still not giving back the game-boys, though!

Tim continues to participate in anything that will get him away from us. He’s a soccer player – for the Bryn Mawr equivalent of the Bad News Bears. But it lets him get out his drama (“where’s my yellow card?!”). He also plays piano, mostly to annoy his brother. The keyboard is in their shared room.
Mom STILL can't make me dress up for pictures
Whenever Stinks wants his “privacy”, Mothman decides to practice.

The piano teacher tolerates Tim rather well, but her dog, Chumley, just loves Tim. Physically, if he can. Tim finds it strange that Chumley tries to “hug his leg” all of the time. We’ve tried to covertly pass on the pamphlet “benefits of neutering your dog” but alas, the “hugging” continues. And it freaks Loki out! Loki would love to give his boys hugs, if only the plumbing were there.

Tim continues to be a literal thinker (and lazy listener). For example, he was completely grossed out by the hand-churned milk shake, since the people put their hands in it. He also was afraid to go the back way to the Dunkin Donuts. He heard me call the facility back there the “Bryn Mawr Terrorist.” After asking me what kind of weapons said terrorist is known for, I had to spell out terrace. This word drew a blank look from our little Geography Bee contender.

Sean is now taller than mom and proud of it. Not that that's an accomplishment. He’s also eating anything that doesn't move. This has lead to him being quite the budding fry-cook and/or sous chef. Mom has used this training as an excuse to pawn off one of her jobs (feeding the kids when Dad’s working evening shift) to him. Stinks is ok with that if he gets to choose the menu. No coffee flower or ‘cado will pass his lips voluntarily.

He continues to be a boy scout, but only for the camping opportunities. Actually, any excuse to get away from his strange family appeals to this seventh grader. He’s become a champion dog walker, lawn mower, and sidewalk shoveler.  Through it all, he remains Grumpy McStormcloud, thus proving he is his mother’s son.

We’ll end the first draft of this tome with our annual pilgrimage to worship the birth of That Most Famous Mother’s Son – the big J.C.!  Both boys are acolyting at the Christmas Eve service this year. Should be interesting. Look for stories of a pretty little church in PA burning to the ground: our boys like fire!! Whoo Hoo! 

Clan Rogers

Jeez, that was so boring even Santa went to sleep


Blogger junewilliams7 said...

Heh-heh! I have enjoyed reading all these past Christmas letters. You are such a talented writer. Your kids really are growing fast, but how about a photo of you and John? Surely you're not embarrassed to have all four of you in the same photo, eh? Happy new Year to the Rogers flock!

December 29, 2013 10:06 PM  
Blogger birdwoman said...

Happy back at u. I break cameras. Ergo no hag pics.

December 31, 2013 9:34 PM  

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