"Postage-Free But Heartfelt"
Dear Inhabitants of the Interwebs, You Slimy, Three-Eyed Beasts:
At this reading, may you be sipping on something mulled, wearing something fuzzy, and not hating those around you. What's more: may you have protein in your belly and a carb in your heart.
I offer up to you the following holiday greetings with a shrug of my shoulders and a simple, "Hell, Jethro. It's what I got."
This year, our family mailed out the card below, an image created when the members of Groom's digital painting class were assigned to illustrate the various verses of The Night Before Christmas; Groom's required stanza was the "On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen. On Tootie, on Blair, on Natalie and Mrs. G" blurpie. So he staged a bunch of our Playmobil figures, took photos, and then used the photos as a basis for his painting. I haven't even asked him, as we don't talk much, but I assume he got an "A," which, clearly, seems strong enough basis for a holiday greeting. Christmas is nothing if not all about staging and pixels.
In previous decades, I used to crank out a massive letter to accompany the card, but now that I have this blog in which to blather, doing such a thing seems redundant. If anyone cares, he/she can check in twice a week here and find out who's broken a bone or gone bowling. Hence, we went, in the text on the back of the Santa card, for a straightforward listing of what actually mattered in our year, and that would be the favorite words our eyes intook.
While the previous image and note went out to a hundred of our closest friends (plus four acquaintances about whom we remain ambivalent), the next image is for you alone, O Gracious Denizen of the Interwebs. To celebrate an impending blizzard and the fact that I'm intending, in the next few days, to make a Tres Leches cake for the first time, I asked His Groomitude to create a new Pyramid Man for me (see this, this, and this for the backstory). The result is a Groom/Paco collaboration, the best gift I can imagine:
My wishes for you over the next wad of days, Gentle Reader, are that you--
Revel in the good stuff.
Rest your yappin' dogs.
Find peace in your head.