I was working on a typical post today when the mail arrived. Jesse plunked down a bunch of holiday cards.
"These are for you," he said.
That's actually not correct; they are for us, but Jess isn't really the greeting card type. When we received a card from my mother for our wedding anniversary in October, he read it, said with sincerity, "That's nice," then promptly put the card in the recycling bin. (Don't worry Ma, I fished it out.) Holiday cards are not keepsakes to him, whereas I save everything from cards to the "To:/From:" stickers I get on Christmas Gifts. It just seems like the least I could do for someone's kindness.
I grew up with a mother who finished everything "holiday"--the house decorations, the cookies, the cards--the weekend after Thanksgiving. She did not question whether she would send out holiday cards, like she did not question paying the mortgage, or making dinner. For years I was much the same way. I may have been busy at work; busy at home with myriad holiday parties and gifts to buy, but the holiday cards were signed, sealed, and delivered before December 15. Each one even had a custom, hand-written note.
I never sent photos, but I used to stage in my head my perfect photographed holiday card--Jesse standing sideways, his hand extended to my shoulder; I am standing sideways, my hand extending to the nonexistent shoulder of our cat Ginger. We're all in Shetland sweaters, even Ginger, and her paw is flattening some toy mouse in a Santa Hat.
"We'd never get Ginger to sit long enough for that," Jesse said, when I shared with him my vision. He was never a holiday dreamer like me.
Perhaps it's Jesse's influence that creeps up on me now, as I flip through notes of Season's Greetings and pictures of adorable children, spouses and pets. People who put in the time to send us cards. I know it would make them happy to get a card from us. But until cards started coming in, I hadn't even thought to send any this year.
Perhaps it's a perfectionist thing: No major news to speak of, so why bother? Perhaps it's a time thing: I spend so much time working that holiday tasks I used to plan in advance like vacations are no longer appealing to me. Perhaps it's a phase. I certainly don't love my friends and family any less.
I've been putting a lot of emphasis on this new blog as of late, so perhaps I will provide a note here, for all of you:
"These are for you," he said.
That's actually not correct; they are for us, but Jess isn't really the greeting card type. When we received a card from my mother for our wedding anniversary in October, he read it, said with sincerity, "That's nice," then promptly put the card in the recycling bin. (Don't worry Ma, I fished it out.) Holiday cards are not keepsakes to him, whereas I save everything from cards to the "To:/From:" stickers I get on Christmas Gifts. It just seems like the least I could do for someone's kindness.
I grew up with a mother who finished everything "holiday"--the house decorations, the cookies, the cards--the weekend after Thanksgiving. She did not question whether she would send out holiday cards, like she did not question paying the mortgage, or making dinner. For years I was much the same way. I may have been busy at work; busy at home with myriad holiday parties and gifts to buy, but the holiday cards were signed, sealed, and delivered before December 15. Each one even had a custom, hand-written note.
I never sent photos, but I used to stage in my head my perfect photographed holiday card--Jesse standing sideways, his hand extended to my shoulder; I am standing sideways, my hand extending to the nonexistent shoulder of our cat Ginger. We're all in Shetland sweaters, even Ginger, and her paw is flattening some toy mouse in a Santa Hat.
"We'd never get Ginger to sit long enough for that," Jesse said, when I shared with him my vision. He was never a holiday dreamer like me.
Perhaps it's Jesse's influence that creeps up on me now, as I flip through notes of Season's Greetings and pictures of adorable children, spouses and pets. People who put in the time to send us cards. I know it would make them happy to get a card from us. But until cards started coming in, I hadn't even thought to send any this year.
Perhaps it's a perfectionist thing: No major news to speak of, so why bother? Perhaps it's a time thing: I spend so much time working that holiday tasks I used to plan in advance like vacations are no longer appealing to me. Perhaps it's a phase. I certainly don't love my friends and family any less.
I've been putting a lot of emphasis on this new blog as of late, so perhaps I will provide a note here, for all of you:
Dear loved ones,
I know, it's been a while. Thanks for sending me your updates; I read every word--even your detailed accounts of the dead animals in your yard, Aunt Jill. What I get from reading your notes is that sometimes you don't need big news to reach out to people. We're still worthy individuals when we don't have weddings, babies, new homes or IPOs to speak of. I suppose that I am used to being someone with news, and when I don't have it I sulk.
So if you don't much care about wasted white space, and long silences, let me share some of my big moments this year (not in order of importance):
- I experimented with hair color. Nothing dramatic, just a bolder shade of brown and a streak of red. Most people didn't notice. Some asked if I lost weight. For me it was revolutionary. Next time I'm going blonder.
- BlogHer'09 was fantastic. It's one of those times when I'm quote-unquote working but it's not work. It's love. All of it. Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if every day were like that. Honestly, I couldn't handle it. I remind myself that we need to do things that don't light us up sometimes so that the things that do can shine brighter. It's like Christmas Trees: They are wonderful to look at, but all year long?
- Still working. A lot. But I'm tired of talking about how much I work. I think this is why I talk a lot less than I used to.
- The fam. Employed. No drama. I recall at this time, eight or nine years ago praying for a partner, a job I loved, and peace of mind. I read of people's heartbreak and struggle this year and I think to myself, "And you've been bitching about the inordinate number of parking tickets you've received in Oakland?" Enough already.
- My blog: In flux. I'm trying something new. I call it: Walking my talk. Since starting a business around social media, I've become more of a talking head than a real practitioner. I need to use this stuff more, and not just talk about the crazies who live on this technology to marketers who want to learn about them. I find that I get frustrated with things like setting up my RSS feeds and mapping URLs, but at the same time I'm working my muscles again. Bear with me as I work on those last few pounds.
- The PS3: Not my idea, but Jesse says he needs more to do when I'm traveling. I told him that he should consider classes in massage therapy. This is where we netted out. I at least have Blu-Ray now. The downside is I'm not so sure that I want to see everything in High Def. I just saw Bruno and am now really down on human anatomy.
Have a Happy, truly. Whatever happiness is to you.
