Dear Friends and Family, and the kansas city star,
Four years ago I began our Christmas Newsletter with the following words:
“Do you feel the crackle in the air? Doesn’t it make you feel as if you’re standing in the midst of royalty? Well, have no fear; it’s just me, trying on my new role as first lady for when my little funky-poo is elected Mayor of Kansas City in the spring of double-o-seven.”
Well, part of my prediction was right, Funk was elected Mayor in double-o-seven, but I was wrong about the crackle. That was the sound of gunfire about to go off, not impending royalty status. And yes, we’re stupid enough to be working hard to get Funk re-elected in 2011. In fact, it’s become a family affair, even though the word family is now the new four-letter word here in the Midwest. But more on that later.
Our big news of the year is that Tara and Charles are engaged. They are as excited as any two young lovers can be, and I, of course, am reeling with the loss, just as Charles anticipated that I would be. Here’s the story:
Last summer I couldn’t take the yard looking like its been neglected for four years, so I instituted Garden Sunday’s. This is where the entire family works in the yard while I cook us a big Sunday dinner. Shortly after beginning work one Sunday, Charles sauntered into the kitchen with a nervous grin on his face. Little did I know that he was about to destroy my world. “Hey Glor, guess what?” He looked like he was about to hustle something, so I waited for it. “I want to surprise Tara with an engagement ring for her birthday.” I won’t tell you the misery that followed, all I will say is that I’ve never felt weak-kneed before, but after hearing those words I could hardly keep myself upright. Charles and I worked it out. I made him write out a contract that stated how he’s not just marrying my daughter, he’s marrying the entire family. I pricked his finger with a needle so that he could seal the deal in blood, and, of course, he whined like a man. After that, we picked out a ring for her together. Then we brought it to the park and did a little ceremony to bless their union. I must admit, Charles is a quick learner, a black man with the instincts of an Italian. That’s why he might worm his way into my heart after all.
Andrew. What can I say? The love of my life. He’s still trying to figure out how to remain connected, while being independent of his family. When does this developmental stage end? He’s 21. I was told that if I just let him go, that he’d eventually come back. I’m impatient for the part where he re-embraces his family. Andrew interned with Funk all summer and then decided to take the year off to work on the campaign. But a few short months later, he got a better offer. Instead of making $2 an hour working for the campaign – and having to take the guff of the campaign manager, that would be me – he got offered $20 an hour to work in his chosen field of work. So now Andrew is teaching English to inner-city youths and, from what I can see, he is loving it and doing a great job. He’ll make a great high school English teacher. And someday, he’ll also be a published author, as he’s also a really great writer.
Little Nick Gwipp is still living with us. My Italian genes really must still be planted in the old country, as I not only want my kids to live with me forever, but I also steal other people’s kids so that they can live with me forever as well. Nick is lovesick at the moment – not unusual for the age – but sometimes it’s hard to watch him torture himself over the same woman. But even with that, Nick is a lot of fun to be around. Both he and Tara are working with me at the campaign headquarters, so we not only have a lot of fun together, we also make a really great team. When Funk gets his tired-old self re-elected, it will only be because of our skills in marketing a great product.
Speaking of Funk, he’s getting old. Not that he wasn’t old when I met him, but this new life can really suck you dry if you’re not careful. But I am being careful with him. As I write, he’s probably got ten-thousand needles stuck in him, and when he leaves the acupuncturist’s office, he’ll probably have a little bag of herbs to compliment his preventive treatment. One positive thing about being Mayor is that if you want your man to woman-up and learn how to multi-task, have him be Mayor for a few years. You’ll be amazed at how easy it becomes for him to finally be able to talk on the phone while carrying on another task.
Now, back to the election. This time next year I expect Funk to be even more settled in his role as Mayor. I’ve heard other Mayor’s say that the first term is always God-awful, and that subsequent terms are a piece of cake, and that’s when policy measures really take off.
Well, we’ve lived through the thorough hazing of the first-term. And per my prediction, Funk did have to call on Prince Charles to learn how to cope with a wife who was outshining him in the public’s eye. Luckily, the Prince’s advice was simple. Get different drivers. We did. And they know exactly how to navigate through the tunnels. We’re now well poised to have Funk’s policies take off like a rocket, and not have us come crashing down with the boosters.
On that note, this first lady once again bids you a happy and healthy new year. Ta-Ta.
The Funk’s New Years Day Party At The TripleWide ~ 523 Walnut 1 January 2011 ~ 5-8 p.m Chili & Beer Family Welcome