I’m not sure how I managed it, but except for seven cards for which I had to track down addresses, and therefore are not already out in the mail, I finished the sending of the cards. Unless of course I don’t have your address because you texted it to my phone and I stupidly deleted it (you know who you are, oh amazing person in Montreal), or because you’ve moved and even though I lurk in your blog/journal/diary we don’t really keep in touch the way we should.

I even managed to write 20 ‘extra’ (as in over and above the names on my list) cards to soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan, so hopefully they’ll enjoy a bit of holiday cheer even if it takes til after the 25th to get there.

I like cards. I like the pictures on the front covers and the cheesy sentiments inside. I like the glittery envelopes (though probably should not have been writing cards with glitter in bed) and the seals and the textures. I like non-Christmas cards as much as Christmas cards, and I frequently use them for dropping notes to people. Note cards, especially, are useful when you want to keep in touch but don’t really have enough content (or time) for a long, rambling letter.

Today, if I have no other tasks, I’ll be baking cookies to leave for my dog sitter, and to take on the plane tomorrow. Oh, god, tomorrow. I’m not packed. I don’t know what to wear, I have so much to do, and my dogs keep circling the suitcases and giving me their slitty-eyed looks. The ones that say, “Yeah, Mom, we KNOW you’re abandoning us.”

At least they’ll be happy to see us in 10 days, and we’re leaving them in good hands.

Not hands like mine, that are covered in red and blue ink.