Christmas news from Wasilla

As I reported earlier, my friend Richie from up the street hasn’t gotten over his fascination with Sarah Palin.  Even with the November election fading in the rear view mirror.  It’s not that he agrees with everything she says, or even anything she says.  He just can’t stop obsessing, anymore than he could ever stop bringing beer over to my place and watching NFL football on the big screen. 

Just last Sunday I’m talking about Peyton Manning and the Colts, and how the amazing Peyton’s come back from his injuries to lead his team to the playoffs after a bumpy start, but I look over at Richie and he’s put his beer down and is gazing off into space. 

“I wonder what Sarah’s doing this weekend?” Richie says, as if he’s talking about a mutual friend that he hasn’t seen for a few days.

“What?” I say, my discourse on Peyton’s stellar season interrupted.  Then, to tease him, I say, “Sarah who?”

“Palin, you idiot,” Richie says, as if there’s only one Sarah in the world.  “She hasn’t been in the news for a few days.  I blame that crazy governor in Illinois, that’s all the news guys want to talk about.”

“Blagojevich,” I say.  “The guy’s name is Blagojevich.  And it’s big news.  He tried to sell Obama’s Senate seat to the highest bidder.  And his approval rating is lower than Bush’s, which isn’t easy.”

“Whatever,” Richie says.  “I wish he’d just go away.  Him and that hairy critter that lives on top of his head.  What a dork.”

“Say his name,” I tell him.  “I bet you can’t pronounce it.”

“I could if I wanted.  All I said was I wondered what Sarah’s doing.  Don’t start talking about Blaga-boy-zich.”

“Close enough,” I say.  “So what’s new with Palin?  You’re the expert on the subject.  Any news since she pardoned the turkey?”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Richie says, and he fishes in his back jeans pocket and pulls out a folded sheet of paper.  He gives me a smug smile and hands me the paper.  “Read this.  You know that Internet friend I made in Wasilla?  I told you about him.  Sam McGee.  The mechanic.  He sent me their family Christmas newsletter.  It’s got all the news of the year.”

“All about Sarah Palin?”

“Well, some of it.  Just read it.”  Then he leans forward, gives me his serious look, and says slowly.  “If you’re going to understand a person … especially if they’re different … it helps to know where they come from.”  Then he sits back and adds, “Janine … that’s Sam’s wife … Janine wrote the newsletter.”

So I unfold the newsletter, admire the red and green Christmas border, and start reading.  Richie interrupts me with “Read it aloud,” so I do.  And here it is, the McGee Christmas newsletter.  Enjoy. 

Merry Christmas to all our friends and relatives, here in the Great Land and to all you poor suckers in the Lower 48.  (Just joking.)  It’s been a busy year for the McGee gang.  In case you didn’t hear, I went to Anchorage in June to update my beauty shop skills.  When I got back to Wasilla my regulars at the Magnificent Mousse were lining up.  Got me some new customers too, which made Wanda happy.

Sam’s business is going good, even with the recession.  Folks have to drive.  Sometimes on my lunch break I walk over to the garage and watch him work and hand him his tools.  It always reminds me of when we started seeing each other.  He’d be working on my Ford, and I’d hand him a tool, and then a can of Bud, and then another tool … so romantic.  Next thing I knew we were engaged.

Let’s see, what else is new?  Well, the twins are at Wasilla High School now.  Can you believe it???  It makes me feel old, but Sam always tells me I’m not getting older, I’m getting better.  Then he gives me a tuneup … I mean my truck (ha!) … and I make him a good dinner, and we end up renewing our nuptials.  I feel so lucky.

Oh yeah, the twins.  Well, Cord is on the Warrior JV football team, so we’re just as proud as we can be.  He’s keeping up his C average, so that’s good.  He has a girlfriend, but I promised him I wouldn’t put her in the newsletter, but she’s cute as a bug and if you know who I’m talking about I’m sure you’ll agree. 

Cora is likewise off to a good start in high school.  Her main goal is to make cheerleader, but we told her to concentrate on the books during her freshman year, which didn’t go over big but she understands, and we promised her we’d do everything to help her make cheerleader next year.  Well, not everything.  Not like that psycho cheerleader mom in Texas.  But we are practicing every night in the family room, after her homework’s done, and I’ve been passing on my own tips from the time I was head cheerleader at WHS.  Cora doesn’t have a boyfriend at the moment. Her dad is being very protective, if you know what I mean, but I just tell Cora to be patient and someday she’ll be head cheerleader and have a quality boyfriend, so she’s very hopeful.

I know that everybody is curious about Sarah Palin, because that was the big news in town this year, so I’ll just tell you some stuff here in the newsletter and please don’t ask me about her all the time.  Well, where to start?  She was the mayor here, of course, and there were folks who liked her (she did get elected) and folks who didn’t.  And then she made Governor but she still kept her home in Wasilla, and there were folks who liked her and folks who didn’t.  Then she ran for Vice President (oh my God, that was exciting), and there were folks who liked her and folks who didn’t.  Of course you see her around Wasilla.  She’s just folks.  Except that Sam and I don’t have bodyguards.  I don’t have her wardrobe.  Wanda used to do her hair, but that was before I started at the shop.  All Wanda says about Sarah’s hair is “there’s a lot to work with.” She has a rule that we don’t talk politics or religion in the shop.  But it is OK to talk about everybody’s hair.  And nails.

OK, I’m out of room here, so I’ll just wish you all a Happy New Year.  Hang in there in 2009 and we’ll all get through these hard times.  Remember, you’ve always got your family.  And the Good Lord will provide.

Love,
Janine

P.S. Sam says there’s a tuneup special on at the shop, to the end of December (for those of you who are in town).

 

I fold the newsletter and hand it back to Richie.  “Thanks for sharing,” I tell him.  He says “glad to do it.”  We go back to watching the game.  I’m hoping that there won’t be any news flash interruptions from Illinois.  Richie might explode.