House Of Cards

Well, I suppose I should get a move on sending out all those Christmas cards. It's really not that difficult to peel a self adhesive stamp and slap it on the corner of an envelope. It's easy enough to swipe the glue strip with a damp sponge and avoid the horrible aftertaste of what I am sure is a poisonous form of freeze dried mucilage. What's really got me procrastinating is the addressing part.

Handwriting all those addresses with my poor penmanship is a small form of torture for me and post office, I've been told. My hand cramps up just thinking about it. To make matters worse, I've run out of return address labels. I know, I know, there's a way to print out your own address labels. I'm lousy at it and I don't want to, so there. I ordered more labels online, but they haven't arrived yet. I'm really in a pickle, people.

I'll just need to give myself a kick in the pants and do this. Only I know the moment I shove that big wad of cards into the mailbox a FedEx truck will pull up with my labels. I'll be handed a fresh package of address labels and be forced to sign for it with my crippled hand.

I actually do enjoy the whole exchanging of Christmas cards. It's nice to see how many friends you have in the tangible form of pictures, handwritten notes, and fancy foil-lined envelopes. We like seeing all those cards pile up on the piano where we display them until they spill over and we have to keep propping them up every time we walk by. "Look at us! We're so popular this time of year," the bountiful mail seems to say and yet, we have some seriously small plans for New Years...

There's also a few cards that stir up a bit of controversy. "John? Who are these people? I'm sorry to say that I don't even know who half of these kids are. Do we know the kids or the parents? Ooh-did we send them a card?!"

It sure is a lousy feeling when you get a card just days before the holiday only to realize you forgot to send one to them and then race to get one out and pray it gets there in time hoping they'll never know your faux pa. Even worse, is when you send one out and get one back at the midnight hour and it hits you: this person sent you one out of pity and guilt since you'd been cut from their send out list.

I look forward to all the mail, the pictures of kids (most of which we can identify), and the letters telling us the story of your life's events over the past year. I hope I get all my intended mail out, but I promise I won't take it personally if you accidentally forget me if you won't get your panties in a bunch if I slipped up and accidentally forgot you.