2023 Edition

You guys.  I feel like I should be nominated for an award acknowledging my “can-do” attitude displayed in my Florida Chapter Holiday Letters.  I divide Holiday Letters into 3 main categories.  The first is your “Stellar Year” category.  Every now and again we get one (and hope you get one too.)  Stellar Year Letters in take little talent to write as the only obstacle one faces is the risk of sounding too braggy. 

The second category is your “Mixed Bag Years”.   The year balances itself out basically.  Some good, some bad.   These letters aren’t a particular struggle to write either.  Lean on the positive, sprinkle with some self-depreciating humor and call it a day. 

BUT THEN.  Then come the years that are out to get you first. Baby New Year showed up with a baseball bat and brass knuckles. The dreaded “Dumpster Fire Years.” THESE letters are a challenge to write and I have been tested with these for six years straight!  The Florida Years.  Two major hurricanes.  Yearly hospitalizations.  Disease.  Pestilence.  Unemployment.  Death.  Betrayal.  Deeeestruction.  And, through it all, at the end of every year I have sat down and done my best to find something funny to tell you.

We’ll never know why The Florida Chapter years were so problematic but I have a couple of theories.  Let me know what you think.  

First theory – the state of Florida has some kind of grievance with me.  Some of you might recall that this was our second attempt to live in Ft. Myers.  We were there in 2002 and faced a lot of similar problems.  I swear *I* didn’t do anything to Florida to warrant the amount of hostility I received.  I am innocent.  I am but a pawn in the long game that Florida is playing.   For real, guys.  I’m not saying everything was bad all the time in Ft. Myers.  We had wonderful neighbors, people we came to love, activities we enjoyed and a lovely house with a pool and banana trees.  I was teaching cardio dance and raising butterflies.   Terence and I were living that Empty Nester Life. But the hardships, though!  I quote The Big Labowski when I say – this aggression will not stand, man.   

Second theory – do you remember that guy named John who lived in the house before us?  He choked on a cheeseburger in the middle of the night and died.  When this event took place, it was a whole thing in the neighborhood.   We lived there for six years and people were still bringing him up.  “Ooh – you live in the house where that guy died!  I remember that.  The police were here ALL DAY.”  Over time, it was the “ALL DAY” part of this story that began to weigh on me.   From everything I was told – the incident seemed pretty straightforward.   Death by Cheeseburger.  Why the extended investigation, then?  Did the police have suspicions?  Did something sinister happen to John?  Did anyone raise the possibility of (you know) MURDER?!   Is it even possible to kill somebody with cheeseburger?  I don’t know.  All I know is that if you make cheeseburgers illegal – only criminals will have cheeseburgers.  And I shall be imprisoned.  I truly thought John and I were cool.  I allowed John his space (but also, I wouldn’t be at rest either had I been murdered with a cheeseburger.)  For this reason, I kind of see his point (but it wasn’t me that killed him.) RIP John.   

Terence and I were both unemployed at the beginning of 2023, which was such a bummer.  It was kind of like Covid where we had to (got to?) stay home all the time and do nothing – but without the money.  So I have to say the year started out with…..lets call it abundant opportunity (but also set upon rocky terrain.)  

I found a job within the hospital system working in the Emergency Room.  The Emergency Room is a delightful place to work because somethings crazy is always happening.  That “something” could be anywhere from tragic to absurd – but it was a constant. I loved my coworkers.  I loved night shift and this letter was writing itself.  One night a lady handed me a severed toe wrapped in Kleenex and I thought to myself “This is going to be the best Christmas Letter ever! We rotated positions in the ER.  One of these positions was working the check-in desk.  I referred to it as The Desk of Too Much Information.  This is where I realized that I can’t spell the word “diarrhea”.  I still can’t spell it.  I rely on autocorrect or spell check – neither of which this computer program had.  It was unfortunate due to the staggering number of people who came to the ER with this problem.  I had two choices:  1) Stick a Post It Note that said “diarrhea” on my computer screen  2) attempt to work around the word “diarrhea” in a way that the triage nurse would be able to infer the meaning without me having to look like an absolute idiot.  “Digestive issues.”  “Intestinal complaint.”  “Not at all constipated.  I mean really.”  

(I hope I’m the only Holiday Letter you receive this year with a paragraph devoted to “diarrhea.”) Bless!

Sooooo the year was moving right along and in July Terence accepted a position with First National Bank of Omaha (same position/new bank).   And, with this position, came the move back to Kansas City.  This would have been enough.   A multi-state move is always enough.  For anyone.  (I’m a terrible mover, just ask Terence.)  I mean, come on guys, moving is such a pain.  Do you know what makes it worse, though?  Having a medical crisis.   

There’s that saying about “be sure you’re wearing clean underwear traveling in case you get in an accident.”  I can tell you, unequivocally, that your underwear is not that important.  Here’s MY advice, though.  “Be sure you look like a respectable person who wears pajamas and has a skin-care routine when you crawl into bed at night – because you never know when disaster might strike.”  You too could find yourself rolling into the ER where you work looking like Carrie (the horror movie) at the end of The Prom.  In whatever you got into bed that night wearing.

I love a dramatic entrance but there’s a point of diminishing returns, though, and this was too much.  I’m grateful that, of all the nights, I went to bed looking respectable. Because usually I’m not that person.  Sometime that night a major bleed started in my stomach. I shall spare you the details – you’re welcome. (I already brought up diarrhea.)  But if anyone ever takes a blacklight into the main bathroom of our FL house the police are going to be there ALL DAY again because it’s going to look like someone was murdered there (not by cheeseburger.)   The medical staff (my coworkers) saved my life that night.  Terence saved my life that night.  There was nothing about this situation that didn’t suck; but high on the list is the fact that I never recovered enough to return to work.  I’d spent 8 months campaigning for the Best Dressed Award and now all I shall be remembered for is a scene that looks right out of The Exorcist.  Life can be so cruel. 

SO – I ended up being hospitalized for most of the month of August.  During that time our house went under contract and the move to KC put in motion.  And I couldn’t do anything.   I couldn’t help pack.  I couldn’t weed through closets.  I couldn’t responsibly go to the doctors.   I attempted to help by curating numerous items for the loft from my hospital bed.  We had these plans to fly up and tour loft spaces, carefully selecting the right one for us.  And no, nothing like that happened.  We signed a contract, sight unseen and hoped for the best.  Which meant – I was purchasing furniture I’d never seen for a loft I’d never seen.  Some areas turned out really stellar – others look like I dropped an 11-year-old me off at the Dollar Store with 20 bucks and told her to buy me something pretty.  I was on a lot of drugs.  To make matters worse – not a single thing I had purchased came assembled.  Not only did Terence get to pack up the FL house by himself but he also got to sit on the floor for a full week assembling furniture.  Whilst he was doing this I did things like go to Costco to stock up.  Only I hadn’t really looked through the storage space in the kitchen OR the size of the fridge/freezer first so when I returned from this task there was no room to put anything.  Half the contents of our freezer is consumed by an entire years supply of Kraft Singles.  Nobody needs needs this.  

Annnddd after all that – we are having a wonderful time living in the River Market District.  And (at least so far!) there’s been a pause in the Series of Unfortunate Events.  (I like to think of it as a pre-paid break.)  While it is strange to be in an apartment again, it also feels comforting – like we looped right back around to being newlyweds in KC and have the chance to do everything better (with a years supply of Kraft Singles and the bounce house I selected as living room furniture.)   We walk down to City Market almost daily where there are shops, restaurants and fresh produce year-round.  We had a lovely extended autumn here in the city which was much appreciated (since this is our first real winter in 6 years!)  We are really thankful to be living near family again – Terence’s family is mostly here in KC and I’m much closer to my parents in Denver.  The kids are doing well!  Lila is really thriving in Jacksonville NC.  She’s really kicking rear at work.   Alex has lived here in KC since we moved to FL and it’s been wonderful to be able to see him more often.  Terence is enjoying his new position with FNBO and I’m finding plenty of things to see and do in the city.

All in all – I will give 2023 a “Three Dumpster Fire” rating.  Hoping our extraction from FL has righted something in the universe.  

Wishing you and yours a happy and prosperous 2024!

Kayla