As another year draws to a close, ever steepening the slope that tilts directly into the grave, most if not all of the Thompson bunch have decided to take a break from contemplating the slowly healing scars on their wrists to wish all their friends the happiest of holidays.

It has been an eventful 2005 at the Thompson Ranch. We got a scare early on when we detected what appeared to be mold on our home’s outer walls. We were relieved, however, when we examined further and found that what we had always assumed to be stucco is, in fact, mushrooms. This actually has an upside — after a rain our house nearly doubles in size.

And our always-shaky relationship with the neighbors took a decided downturn when Claire determined that they were vampires and began staking them at every opportunity. Luckily, her aim is terrible and many of the stakes ended up painfully but non-life-threateningly in the fleshy parts of their upper arms or, in at least one instance, right through the wattle.

You’ll be saddened to learn that Frank has been ill for several seeks this winter but no one noticed for the longest time, due in part to his years-long practice of wearing mucous as a fashion accessory. Claire became concerned that perhaps he had come down with that bird flu; when she asked if there was anything she could get for him, Frank replied that all he wanted was a seed bell.

But before that, when he was still semi-ambulatory Frank cashed in on his rather tenuous capacity as a film historian by providing commentary for several upcoming DVDs. The titles include “Madame Axe,” “The Haunted Chiffarobe,” “Able Was I Until I Saw Elba” and “Shaft’s Baaaaad Cold.”  He’s pessimistic about getting more such jobs, though, since his commentary on these consisted entirely of him poorly describing whatever was happening onscreen and periodically exclaiming, “I can’t believe they’re paying me for this.”

Claire is doing more wonderful charity work with her organization “Kids Without Knuckles,” developing several groundbreaking techniques that show them how to pick up sippy cups using gum or tape on the palms of their hands. In fact, she was recently recognized by the national “KWK” foundation. They didn’t give her an award or anything, they just knew who she was.

Our oldest boy Wanda Lucia has been undergoing some understandable emotional upheaval since September when we informed him that he wasn’t adopted. Frankly, we’re a little puzzled at his horrified shock since the distinctive pattern of back hair that he shares with Claire is just too similar to be coincidental. But he’s a real Thompson, this boy. He has already begun sublimating his pain through art, composing an epic tone poem for violin and giblets. He has performed it twice and, except for the considerable spatter, the piece was well reviewed.

The Twins, Sidney Beauchance Casanova and his sister Squiggly Pete, have been having the greatest time with their “Li’l Guantanamo Bay” playset. To see all the neighbor kids with cloth bags over their heads or tiny slivers of bamboo under their cute little fingernails, well, it brings back the magic of childhood to all of us.

Frank once hit a hedgehog with his car. When he pulled over to check on it, the beast looked nonplussed, then slightly confused, as if thinking back on a Saul Bellow novel he’d once read, and then he became downright snarly, foaming at the mouth and issuing invective that would have embarrassed you to hear.

This is not unlike the way we feel as we look forward to what can only be predicted as a bleak and painful 2006. But maybe we’re wrong, huh?

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!