It’s that Christmastime of year, when we write our Christmas letters summarizing the year’s events.  Normally, I just find an instance or two in which, well, “Trouble Ensued.”  This year?  It was “The Raft.”   For those of you who received the letter…here is a picture of the dang thing.  For the rest of you?  So that you don’t feel left out, let me share the story with you here direct from “The Christmas Letter”:

You know, normally at this time of year, I’m staring at a blank computer screen with a massive case of Christmas letter writer’s block.  But I got lucky this year.

We had such a cold summer here at home, there weren’t a lot of “summer days” available to create stories about party hijinks by the pool. But I do have one.  And all it takes is one, right?

It’s September.  We finally have a nice warm day, and invite a few friends over to splash around.  Dan is so excited, he digs out all the pool toys we haven’t seen in ages…including a crazy raft I had bought that features an attached cabana-type sunshade.  So he’s out in the backyard…blowing up the raft.  I’m in the house.  I mean, how much trouble can he get in?

But after too much time had passed, I finally went out to see what was taking so long, only to discover him fretting over the raft.  seriously fretting.  Furrowed-brow-and-scratching-head fretting.  “What’s the problem?”, I asked innocently enough (but secretly looking forward to the answer).

“This thing is defective!  There’s no way to attach the cabana-shade.  Go look on the box, and see if there is an 800-number I can call for technical support.”

For a $10 raft?  Personally, I’m thinking that nobody at raft corporate thought this was going to be a necessity.  But I wisely used my inside-voice on that thought, And like a good wife…I looked on the box.  “Nope, hon…no 800-number”, I yelled back to him, still feigning that innocent voice that I learned at USC acting school.

Taking my life in my hands, I decided to get a closer look at the raft situation myself.  And I’m sorry.  Seriously.  I truly do ask forgiveness…But I started laughing so hard, I honestly thought I was going to have an aneurism.  Somehow…and don’t ask me how…Dan had blown up the raft inside-out.

When confronted with reality, even Dan started laughing.  We couldn’t stop.  When we finally came up for air, I just looked at him with the most compassionate look on my face that I could possibly muster, and said, “some years, the Christmas letter just writes itself, huh?”