My Failed Christmas Card Plan
I usually send Christmas cards every year.
This year, I had the perfect idea for a card: I’d stand on the roof of my building in Brooklyn (28th floor, Manhattan skyline behind me), holding a Charlie Brown-style Christmas tree. My friend would take the photo in October, I’d prep the cards early, and, as always, I’d have them in the mail the day after Thanksgiving. I like to be first.
But here’s what actually happened:
I was sick the entire month of October.
The picture never happened.
Thinking of emailing people for their current addresses and dealing with the inevitable “I never hear from you!” replies overwhelmed me.
Honestly? I only like sending holiday cards because it’s the best way to receive them. BUT 75% of the cards I get are a letdown.
Why do my friends with kids insist on sending pictures of just their children? Are the parents too busy to pose? What’s going on? My fridge now looks like I’m running some kind of parentless-child fan club. Creepy. Not Christmas-y.
Feel However The F*** You Want
First week of November, that THING happened. That THING that I DO NOT want to talk about. That THING that has tanked my mood for the rest of my life. I’ve been feeling more like Ben-Affleck-exhausted-by-life-carrying-his-Dunkin' than like Joy To The World.
So, I had an idea. An anti-“Happy Holidays” card.
The perfect photos for this were candids of me in Paris, exhausted and posing in front of the Eiffel Tower. I already had them. I didn’t go to Paris for a photo shoot. Just in case you were wondering.
I had 25 of these cards made up. I’ll send them if I feel like it, to whoever I feel like, whenever I feel like. Someone I hardly know might get one. My best friends might not. I keep the cards on my kitchen table and when someone crosses my mind, I send one out. No rhyme, no reason.
If you can’t tell - I am writing this newsletter a few weeks in advance of Christmas.
No Gifts, Please
My sister Gail sent this email to the immediate family:
My sister Linda replied:
I replied:
Still waiting on a response from Gail. I wonder if she’s thinking, “What? I want stuff.”
I’m super into coloring in adult coloring books and for months have been working on coloring Christmas-themed masterpieces. I sent a few to my 3-year-old great-niece Penny—she loved them. When I offered to color one for my sister Gail, she told me she had enough of “that kind of thing.” (She teaches horseback riding to kids.) Over Thanksgiving when I told my parents of my newfound passion and that they might get some in their Christmas stocking, they weren’t that into it either.
My dad (hearing aids out): “What?”
My mom: “Oh, God.”
I won’t even see my family on Christmas Day anyway. I’ll be flying back from a 50th birthday party in Los Angeles. If I visit this year, I’ll be days late and with no presents, other than the gift of art.