Seasons Greetings
I’ve mailed Christmas cards out nearly evey year of my life since I was a teenager. Sending holiday wishes to friends and family far and wide has been a tradition in my family as long as I can remember.
My mother would spend days at the kitchen table doing hand-written letters to her brothers, sisters, former roommates, in-laws, and old friends across the country and throughout Canada.
Her handwriting was perfect.
Her notes depicted the rosy highlights of the past year, dotted with proud parental moments and good cheer.
Envelopes were stuffed and sealed with impeccable precision.
Addresses were in perfect penmanship.
There was rarely even a return address label.
Postage was exact.
Distribution was timed so that everyone, even the Canadian family, would get their greetings at least a week prior to Santa’s visit.
It was craftsmanship of the highest degree.
I’ve tried to carry on the tradition. I even made my own cards quite a few times (and when you have a 200+ distribution list, that’s a task that starts in October, trust me). Other than those years, the craftsmanship of my ancestors has been replaced by the standard one-page xeroxed family newsletter with a few personalized greetings scrawled at the bottom, a couple pictures of the kids, laser labels and return address stamps.
But this year, things are different and I’m not exactly sure how to handle it. I’ve ordered the cards. The kids faces will be smiling gleefully from their covers with a holiday greetings followed by our three names. Three names. Not four.
An adjustment that hits me when I least expect it.
Not sadness.
Not happiness.
Just an odd numbness.
Just another reminder that things are different this time.
And then there’s the letter. Most folks know about the divorce. But there are those older family members and friends who don’t keep track of each other on facebook and twitter and for whom the news will be new. A part of me feels like the change of address and the names on the card will say enough. Another part of me wants to put more context around it all…give some assurance that we’re all okay…share about the kids accomplishments and Dad’s health issues….my work and travel adventures…our plans for 2010.
But, in the end, what’s the exercise for? Is it really to inform them…or is it to assure me that everything is really okay?
No easy answers, here. I guess folks will find out when they open their cards.
Happy Birthday Boo!
My dearest daughter.
On Sunday, you turned six.
You are blonde.
You are sunshine.
You are blue-eyed.
You are the sky.
You are my couch cuddler.
My tap dancer.
My wanna be rap star.
My bedazzled pink and purple princess.
My Kindergartner.
My cast-toting swimmer.
I love how you start nearly every sentence with “AND GUESS WHAT?”
I love how you’re wanting to make your own choices about who you want to be, even if we disagree over what does and doesn’t match.
I love how you can get your baby brother to dance to Yo Gabba Gabba.
I love watching you with your friends. You can never leave a room without at least three hugs even though you’ll see them again tomorrow.
I love seeing you dance. You may not be the best one in the class, but it’s not for lack of trying. You’re learning that it’s about fun, not about winning (well, except for at board games, but we have something to work on this year.)
I love singing “Shout it out” with you in the car and how you try to look cool while you dance.
I hopet this next year is a little less tumultuous for you.
I hope you’ll learn to relax a little on some things and care a little more about others.
I wish that this year will be filled with even more love and laughter.
You are my angel girl and I love you so much.
Here’s looking at you, six.
Life is too short for crap.
That seems to be a recurring theme for me this year.
So much has happened. So many changes. So many issues. So many trips. So many people. So. much.
Some of it’s been great. A lot of it has been pure, unadulterated, crap.
Some of it was completely, totally, and unabashedly my own doing.
In some cases, there were accessories to the crimes crap.
Some of it was just life.
Regardless of the source, I’m tired of it. I need to get back to the good again.
I spent most of this last weekend sorting through closets and cupboards, clearing out crap we don’t need so we have room for the “good things” to come.
I have piles of stuff heading to consignment, co-workers, and thrift stores. Craigslist postings are up. I nearly finished my Christmas shopping so I could spend the rest of this month helping my mom as my dad continues to shuttle back and forth between hospital, rehab, and home. More importantly, I’m focusing on making great holiday memories with my kids.
And, I’m going to write more and write better.
Thanks to Mrs. Flinger, I’m giving myself an early gift this Christmas – a challenge. So, bear with me. Check back on Mondays for each challenge’s post. I’ll be doing my best to make it good.
No. Not now. Not this.
My friend Anissa had a stroke today. She is in the ICU at an Atlanta hospital.
I met her a few years ago through Neil’s Interview Project. I interviewed her and fell in her love with her strong resilient spirit from day one.
She is just hitting her stride. Her daughter’s cancer is gone. She had started a new project this year to help moms laugh more about not being perfect.
She’s a ball of fire that just can’t be extinguished. Hell, even Ralph Macchio thinks she’s cool.
She is in my thoughts and prayers.
Please keep her in yours.

Anissa – get well soon. You need to get back to molesting wildlife with your fabulous bewbs.



















