The beloved, dreaded Christmas cards

KAREN WIGHT

The dining room table is covered with pictures, card stock,

decorative paper and rubber cement. The address book is filled with

stray slips of paper noting address changes. The paper cutter is

looking like a menacing guillotine, and I find that a pervasive

feeling of dread is settling in.

Yep, it’s time for Christmas cards.

Admittedly, I have a love/hate relationship with this annual

tradition. I love receiving cards. I consider each card a special

gift, a chance to catch up with lives that are on speed dial, a time

to reflect on our blessings and an opportunity to mark the chapters

of family life with friends that we don’t see frequently. The trouble

is that I have to actually do it, not just ponder the endless

possibilities.

The first hurdle is the picture. The older we get and the more of

us there are, the complications increase exponentially. Do we ever

get five great smiles at once? Of course not. Who will be the

sacrificial lamb this year? I figure the kids have years to look

fresh and perky, so if one of them has to take one for the team, so

be it.

When they were younger, we fought over clothes. Now that they’re

older ... we’re still fighting over the clothes. Hair -- another

chance for a civil war. Combed is good, even if the kids don’t think

it’s cool.

When the kids were younger, I used to keep a bag of gummy bears

for bribes. The gummies don’t work so well anymore, so the stakes

have been raised. Now, it’s emotional sabotage, and they’ve

out-manipulated me. I hate that.

This year, we took the family photo in August, before Annie left

to go back to Berkeley. Early is good, and there’s always the

possibility that a reshoot can be scheduled. We learned that the hard

way last year, when Annie flew down for the family photo, and her

plane was delayed. The photographer was waiting, the sun was setting,

and it was getting dark -- physically and metaphorically. She arrived

in a frenzy without the predetermined shirt, hair in a nonphotogenic

state and with an attitude to match. I didn’t use the photos, opting

for a quick picture of the kids at the Thanksgiving table, and threw

it together at the last minute. I won’t repeat that mistake.

If you survive the photo, then the topic of the actual card is the

next decision. Some years, I get smart and make it very simple. Some

years, I go into a brain fog and plan these very complicated and

time-consuming ensembles. This is one of those years ... what was I

thinking? The August idea doesn’t translate into the November

schedule.

This year I have to assemble four pieces, and each has to be cut

and fit exactly. I’m not happy with my plan. At least it’s not as bad

as the year that I hand-colored 300 black-and-white photos. They were

beautiful, but the project was pure insanity.

Then I torture myself writing the Christmas letter; too upbeat

sounds phony, and too real is ... too much information. So, I settle

for a modicum of drama, hit the highlights briefly and hope that

spell-checker worked.

Then there is the addressing -- I am hopelessly old-fashioned and

handwrite the cards. I just can’t do it any other way.

Creating Christmas cards is a process that’s not pretty. However,

even with the angst, time and complaints, I still think the effort is

worthwhile. When those cards finally hit the post office, the wave of

euphoria is intoxicating.

I hope that our friends and family enjoy our holiday greetings as

much as I enjoy receiving theirs. Time marches on, and it’s nice to

acknowledge the year’s challenges and triumphs.

Plus, misery loves company. If I’m going to sit at the table for

hours, then you need to do the same. There’s a great photo

opportunity next week.

* KAREN WIGHT is a Newport Beach resident. Her column runs

Thursdays.