Those who know me in “real life” know that I love Christmas letters. I love getting them and savoring them, and most years, I send my own.
I love Christmas Letters so much, I wrote a booklet: Christmas Letters for Fun and Profit*Not really for profit. Just for fun.
That year was the best ever because it actually inspired a few friends and relation to send out their own Christmas letter after years of neglecting the art-form.
Now, as aforementioned, I send a Sikora Christmas letter most years. And in 2012 I skipped, making 2013’s letter weigh upon me all the more.
There are several lines of discourse to be had at this point.
1) I now have a blog that complete strangers and new friends can see what’s going on in the Sikora house at any time, sooooo, why send a letter and/or why would it be hard to write?
2) Also, there’s Facebook – so who needs the Christmas letter anymore?
3) Really? Christmas-letter-block? Pluese.
The Real Confession…
Before I go into any of these objections about said letter, I have the real Christmas Letter Confession to tell you. I make it a rule to not open Christmas cards until I have sent mine. It’s kind of a reward. (Unless, I have pre-season decided not to send cards, then I can open as they come.) I love Christmas Cards (and corresponding letters). So right now, I have a not so neatly stacked small pile of unopened Christmas cards on my dining room table. Well wishes from friends and relatives that I have denied myself as… punishment?
Oh yeah. I’m one sick Christmas Cookie.
And the thing is, the arguments up top against sending a letter don’t hold an ounce of water because 1) surprisingly few of my relatives read my blog 2) I don’t have a personal profile on Facebook, it’s a pretty outgoing-only arrangement and even then, same problem as 1. And 3) I know, right?
And another thing: I actually wrote and printed over 50 copies of two separate Christmas letters. One even on pretty Christmas letter paper. It was an info-graphic. Well…here:
Don’t worry if you can’t read it, it’s going for novelty not substance.
I didn’t love it. So then I wrote a second letter, which turned out to be two pages long and fairly… how shall I say this? Bad. Yeah. It sucked. OY!
So now what? It’s January 16th and where does that leave me? A pile of unopened cards, 2 sets of Christmas letters and an odd feeling of guilt. It’s a sad state of affairs, really.
Obviously I’m going to have to wave the white flag and open my mail. Maybe I’ll get to that this weekend with a glass of wine in hand.
To err is human, to forgive is divine, and to dwell on the trivial is absurd.
And sometimes…it’s what I do.
Ha! I sooo identify with this. I haven’t managed a Christmas letter for 3 or 4 years now, and it’s not because I don’t like to write. Maybe a Groundhog’s Day letter?
Excellent Choice! Keep everyone on their toes. 🙂
In my next letter, I’ll tell the tale of the miserly, grumpy, middle-aged Omahan (me), who was transformed by the power of the myth of the story of the legend of the paperback book which talked about the miracles of St. Swithun.
Here’s an excerpt:
Me: You there! Wot day is tuhday?
Kid, standing below my window: Tuhday, suh? Why, it’s St. Swithun’s Day!
Me: I haven’t missed it! Now get off my lawn!
Don’t make me go all Ghost-of-St.Swithun’s-day on your a$#
Look for it around July 15th.