I am a notoriously terrible mail correspondent, but for quite a few years there, I defied my reputation and sent Christmas cards out reliably. And not just cards, no; starting in 1999 (the year my first baby was born), I also tucked into each envelope a crafty little photo magnet. It was a good idea, always well received, and I regret not keeping up with it. I haven’t mailed any cards in a few years. I did think maybe, maybe, I’d try again this year. But I worry it’s been too long, that we aren’t really ‘fridge’ status anymore for my old mailing list. So I didn’t send cards and I don’t know if I ever will again. How final of me! I certainly receive fewer holiday cards than I used to- is that from a lack of reciprocation or a general dwindling of the tradition? Who knows. My letterbox is always full of the usual: bills and mortgage refinance offers, the odd catalog, insurance benefit reports. How much do I love finding a handwritten card instead? I should trust that if I were to mail out cards again, those on the other end would be similarly pleased.
if you want to know about my smallest boy, start here.
- it's cold and pouring rain here today. it's like nature decided to match the weather to my mood.:: 17 hours ago
- sometimes when you're stuck in the rocking chair with the napping (but only napping when held) baby for a long time, you burn the beans.:: 1 day ago
"And since old Tom and the children could not know hurt or fear unless she acknowledged hurt and fear, she had practiced denying them in herself. And since, when a joyful thing happened, they looked to see whether joy was on her, it was her habit to build up laughter out of inadequate materials. But better than joy was calm. Imperturbability could be depended upon. And from her great and humble position in the family she had taken dignity and a clean calm beauty. From her position as healer, her hands had grown sure and cool and quiet; from her position as arbiter she had become as remote and faultless in judgment as a goddess. She seemed to know that if she swayed the family shook, and if she ever really deeply wavered or despaired the family would fall, the family will to function would be gone." - John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath.