Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Day 143: How Was Your Year? Ours Was Fine

In my printer right now: Batch #2 of our annual holiday year-in-review. (I print them in batches of 30, so the printer doesn't explode.) This timing (the second week of the new year) is not bad for me; I've been known to send our letter around Groundhog's Day. (Hey, it's a holiday.) But getting the cards out is truly something I don't sweat. People are happy to hear from you any ol' time of the year. This is something I know for sure, and I bet Oprah does too.

The next step, creating the list, is the part I like least, because I start feeling all miserly and Scrooge-like. I regularly send more than 100 cards, but I certainly don't receive more than 100 cards. So, do I send a card to people who didn't send me a card? There is some time and expense involved. Do I make the effort for someone who rarely (or never) makes that effort for me? Truly, I don't even like posing the question — it feels petty and mean-spirited — and yet, I can't help it.

I usually land on the side of sending cards. Some of my best friends and favorite people are simply not Christmas-card-senders, and this is something I accept as part of who they are. Of my six bridesmaids, for example, I only regularly get a Christmas card/letter from one of y'all (and ironically, she's the one I'm least in touch with otherwise).

(To be fair, I should probably excuse Bride Boy since he's Jewish.)

My high school best friend never sends cards, and I'm always tempted to cross her off my list — but this card I send is our only remaining link. If I don't send the card — poof! We have no connection at all. I'm not quite ready to completely sever our connection.

And then I think, well, even if I do send a card to her, I can take her sister off the list, certainly, since we were never as close, and she no longer sends me a card — but how can I send a card to one sister and not the other?

Honestly, it's just easier to send a card to everyone and say that next year I'll cull my list. For sure!

Today was a pretty good day. Since I'm sure you're wondering, yes, I tried on the zumba shirt, and it's clingy but fits just fine. (It's a stretchy shirt, I think it would fit anybody.) But since it's clingy, I'm not sure how it will look with my usual zumba pants, which, I'm so proud to admit, are the stirrup pants I've been wearing since whenever stirrup pants were popular (pre-1991, I think); I simply cut off the bottoms so they end at my ankles. They are not remotely cute or jazzy, in other words. I pretty much look like a hobo at zumba. So . . . maybe I'll invest in some actual workout pants to wear with my super-cutey new shirt. Maybe.

(I hate, loathe, and detest clothes-shopping, which is a key part of the reason I'm wearing pants from 1991. But I know I gotta do it; my jeans are hanging on me like elephant skin. Good Neighbor Anne and I drove to Habitat to take a walk this weekend, and I said, When I get out of the car, look at my jeans, and she said, I saw your jeans, they're ridiculous.)

Another day of work work work, but I took a mid-day break and walked down the hill to Trader Joe's and up again (huffing and puffing, but I recovered quickly and my legs felt long and strong). I ran into my dog-walking neighbor, and we had a good chat about our mutual dear neighbor who just died, and that was nice.

I'm single-parenting tonight and had to go to the bank, which is in Lexington, so the kids and I had dinner at Bertucci's; I ordered an individual pizza with roasted zucchini and ate only half of it, plus some salad, and still, when we left, I felt uncomfortably full, which led to two realizations:
  • I really thought I had stopped eating when I was satisfied, so this tells me I need to pay even closer attention.
  • I haven't had that full-and-fat feeling in a long time. This was particularly cool to note, since I used to eat myself sick at restaurants on a regular basis.
I'm now going to sit in front of good TV for an hour and a half and work my way through a pile of mending, then do my nails. A chill evening, in other words. I'll take it!

—Lady C


  1. OK - if any of you out there have not gotten this woman's annual letter, you are missing out and know that the possibility of getting cut from the list is a BIG deal. If it was a dish, it would be like one of those from Top Chef – not too light, not too heavy, wonderfully playful and sublimely plated, with just the right dash of spice. That being said, I am definitely on the “naughty list” since it has been years since I have sent out a holiday card. I hope there is some middle ground – some of us are quite fine with postageless email attachments, although I am sure it makes pure hearts shudder. I for one will hide behind the guise of “going green” and beg if needed.

    1. Hee! I think you're golden. You're one of the famous bridesmaids, after all! I do miss your annual letters, though. Jot some notes while you're watching "Project Runway," c'mon! :)

      My OB says that if I'm still getting regular periods, I'm not even in perimenopause. I am *49*. How much longer??? But I appreciate your wise words and will remember them when my magic moment finally comes.


  2. I sent out over 200 Christmas cards this year and I say uff da. The total got so high because I am co-chair of the Walnut Grove High School Class of 1962 reunion, and I sent out save the date Christmas cards. They were wonderfully apropos, and even included 1962 Christmas seals stuck to the front of the envelope. But the task was overwhelming.
    And, like you, I feel to cut the ONLY tie I have with someone once important to me is NOT an action that makes me feel good. And if I DO decide to cut someone, I always get a Christmas card from them. It is to ponder.

    1. Yes! Exactly! It is not an action that makes you feel good. But then, neither is looking at your address book and thinking, How long has it been since I heard from her? and realizing that you are the only one still maintaining this contact. None of it's fun -- whereas sending a Christmas card to a loved one should be nothing *but* fun!

      Ah well.

      Miss you!