Last Christmas a card came from a relative that I really don't talk to often, one who kind of floats in and out of my life in the patented way that side of my family is famous for. You know the kinds, everyone has them. The ones that aren't bad people, just don't keep in contact with anyone.

My Father's entire family is that way.

It's not a big deal to me, they've been this way since I was born, so it's not like I expect anything else from them besides that. It's really made me grateful that I didn't inherit that flake gene.

As I was cleaning out my in and out boxes on my office desk today I found the card on the bottom of a pile of stuff that should have been filed away in the file cabinets oh, say, nine months ago, and I reread over it and decided that maybe I'll shoot off a letter their way and see what happens.

Worst that can happen is the same thing that always happens: they ignore me until Christmas rolls around six years from now, and then send me another card.

A haiku:


Penutty Butter.
You are good with one thing only,
You are good with just one thing, ThanksClay
Tasty dill pickles.


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