This year, I’m proud to continue my tradition of not sending out Christmas cards.
I know, I know. But this is a hectic time at Corporate Behemoth and the idea of one more thing to do makes me crazy.
I’ve noticed that fewer folks send them out. I blame Facebook. Or maybe I’m just not getting cards anymore because I don’t send cards.
But don’t worry – just because I don’t send cards doesn’t mean that I don’t criticize cards.
I’m just gonna get right down to it. My Aunt Talbot has sent cards for the last three years that feature a picture of her house on the front. No people, just a house.
It’s a big house. A big, fancy house that could easily pass for a sorority house. The first year, it was just, you know, the house. The second year, it was the house with a light dusting of snow – obviously taken before that dust burned off with the sun of the day. But this year? This year, it’s a pic from last Christmas, where the house is covered in snow, swathed in Christmas greenery and lit from within by every light in the place. This year’s photo also features a photo credit.
I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be impressed, or at least warmed in a Norman Rockwell sort of way. But mostly, I’m just annoyed. Seriously, lady. Show me your adorable and numerous grandkids. I’m not impressed by your big ol’ house. So quit trying.
I guess it’s not quite as egregious as the cards that used to come from my mom’s stepsister. She’d always misspell my mom’s name on a letter that told of skiing in Aspen and flying to Gstaad as her husband received some hoity-toity cardiologist award.
Gstaad. I’m not even exaggerating.
At least I can be certain that my noncard isn’t misspelling people’s names or coming off as too showy.