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Happy Holidays from the Dybvigs! Well, it’s happened again, another perfectly good year has slipped past us like we were Secret Service agents guarding a White House dinner. Our year kicked off with a bang, literally, as in the first week of January, our oldest son Bob took his maiden (and tragically final) flight on his bottle rocket powered lawn chair that was intended to take him into orbit. Unfortunately, it only sent him screaming into the side of the city’s water tower. We chose to remember him as the astronaut he dreamed of being, and not the proof of Darwinism which is apparently how the local news media and most of our neighbors see him. Our (now) oldest son Chuck finished his behind the wheel training just last week, and is about to get his driver’s license. We remain haunted by the words of his Drivers Ed teacher who told us that he drives like a pro golfer. We aren’t sure if that means he is good at long straight drives, or if he is a threat to local fire hydrants and trees. His younger brother Jake continues to audition for just about any reality show that will have him. Just last week I had to help him photograph a tattoo he had given himself while building a motorcycle that depicted an elaborate cake he had baked to commemorate the birth of his fictional octuplets. Our middle boy Brian continues his somewhat odd quest for the world record in number of nickels swallowed in an hour. And I have to say, ever since we installed that fancy low‐flow metal toilet in the kids’ bathroom, the house sounds a lot more like Vegas. As predicted in our last letter, my most recent wife Liz and I did get married this summer in Mankato. After a brief Costa Rican honeymoon, we each settled back into the grind of work, me still with my small PR firm and her with her Union work. In her free time, Liz continues to make all sorts of minty creations with her dental floss needlepoint. I spend my free time making motorcycle helmets out of cantaloupe rinds for export to third world counties and am also currently running for governor here in Minnesota. And what would one of our holiday letters be without an update on Cousin Len. You may recall that he secured a mail order bride two years ago, and then last year, they had a mail order baby delivered. Well, this year he was content to order a pair of gray slacks online. Got to say, he really let the old Dybvig family holiday letter down this year. May Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Mohammed, Krishna, Chuck Norris or whatever other god you pray to this Christmas continue to bless you and keep you safe in the coming year. Nate, Liz, Chuck. Jake, Brian and Bob the Almost Astronaut.

2009 Xmas letter

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Nate, Liz, Chuck. Jake, Brian and Bob the Almost Astronaut.

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Happy Holidays from the Dybvigs!

Well,it’shappenedagain,anotherperfectlygoodyearhasslippedpastuslikewewereSecretServiceagentsguardingaWhiteHousedinner.Ouryearkickedoffwithabang,literally,asinthefirstweekofJanuary,ouroldestsonBobtookhismaiden(andtragicallyfinal)flightonhisbottlerocketpoweredlawnchairthatwasintendedtotakehimintoorbit.Unfortunately,itonlysenthimscreamingintothesideofthecity’swatertower.Wechosetorememberhimastheastronauthedreamedofbeing,andnottheproofofDarwinismwhichisapparentlyhowthelocalnewsmediaandmostofourneighborsseehim. Our(now)oldestsonChuckfinishedhisbehindthewheeltrainingjustlastweek,andisabouttogethisdriver’s

license.WeremainhauntedbythewordsofhisDriversEdteacherwhotoldusthathedriveslikeaprogolfer.Wearen’tsureifthatmeansheisgoodatlongstraightdrives,orifheisathreattolocalfirehydrantsandtrees.HisyoungerbrotherJakecontinuestoauditionforjustaboutanyrealityshowthatwillhavehim.JustlastweekIhadtohelphimphotographatattoohehadgivenhimselfwhilebuildingamotorcyclethatdepictedanelaboratecakehehadbakedtocommemoratethebirthofhisfictionaloctuplets.OurmiddleboyBriancontinueshissomewhatoddquestfortheworldrecordinnumberofnickelsswallowedinanhour.AndIhavetosay,eversinceweinstalledthatfancylow‐flowmetaltoiletinthekids’bathroom,thehousesoundsalotmorelikeVegas.Aspredictedinourlastletter,mymostrecentwifeLizandIdidgetmarriedthissummerinMankato.AfterabriefCostaRicanhoneymoon,weeachsettledbackintothegrindofwork,mestillwithmysmallPRfirmandherwithherUnionwork.Inherfreetime,Lizcontinuestomakeallsortsofmintycreationswithherdentalflossneedlepoint.IspendmyfreetimemakingmotorcyclehelmetsoutofcantalouperindsforexporttothirdworldcountiesandamalsocurrentlyrunningforgovernorhereinMinnesota.AndwhatwouldoneofourholidaylettersbewithoutanupdateonCousinLen.Youmayrecallthathesecuredamailorderbridetwoyearsago,andthenlastyear,theyhadamailorderbabydelivered.Well,thisyearhewascontenttoorderapairofgrayslacksonline.Gottosay,hereallylettheoldDybvigfamilyholidayletterdownthisyear.MayJesus,Allah,Buddha,Mohammed,Krishna,ChuckNorrisorwhateverothergodyoupraytothisChristmascontinuetoblessyouandkeepyousafeinthecomingyear.

Nate, Liz, Chuck. Jake, Brian and Bob the Almost Astronaut.