At last. It’s over.
The confusion. The doubt. The indecision. The pros. The cons. The frustration. The research. The opinions. The commitment. The final decision. The official act. The second guessing.
I’m talking about ordering this year’s photo Christmas cards. What did you think I meant?
Every year, my goal is have the cards ordered by mid-November. My second goal is to get them addressed over the long Thanksgiving weekend and ready to mail in early December.
The reality of this is often substantially different from the goal. My real incentive for early Christmas card completion is being able to hand deliver bunches of cards to my friends at our last agility trial of the year, a couple of weeks before Christmas. Saves hand cramps from addressing envelopes and lots of money on postage, since about three-quarters of my cards go to dog friends.
I ordered my cards yesterday. Oh sweet relief. Oh blessed joy. One more decision checked off the pre-holiday to-do list.
Yeah, it's time to think about the holidays. Thanksgiving is two weeks from today, then it's totally open season on Christmas. Okay, it was pretty much open season on Christmas before Halloween but I try not to think about that. I love the holidays. I don't love the commercialism that starts at Labor Day. The Christmas commercials are a welcome relief, however, from the barrage of political BS we've endured since the caucuses in February. Life in a swing state is over-rated.
Sending Christmas cards is a tradition I’m willing to make time for. Over the years I’ve abandoned Martha Stewart-esque home decorating, elaborate cookie and candy making, and stupid holiday letter writing. Some things are worth my time. Some aren't. I’ll send the cards, decorate my mini-tree, bake sugar cookies and gingerbread dogs, go shopping, celebrate with family and friends, enjoy some lazy evenings at home with the dogs and the Farmer and call it good.
Last year, Phoenix kicked off the holidays by eating corn cobs the night before Thanksgiving (long story, they had a side dressing of cattle manure). I spent the evening trying to get him to vomit (preferably outdoors) while baking a pumpkin pie to take to my mom's the next day. He eventually did vomit (indoors, of course). The pie turned out just fine. That's not a tradition I plan to continue.