I'm feeling inadequate, and it's all because of Christmas cards.

Ever since I was an infant, my mom has done the picture card thing. It started out benignly enough, with no real planning; she'd just snap a picture of me holding a stocking or ornament. When Cory came along, she got progressively more maniacal about it. I remember (and have visible proof of) being posed into nativity scenes with my brother, holding a doll. We were dragged out to parks to be photographed; on one fateful day, the parents took us out to the local mall - where all of the kids were hanging out - and forced us to climb over a rope into one of the mall Christmas displays. As we protested, "Mom! We're going to get in trouble! The rope's there for a reason!" we were made to pose holding the various props and "fighting" over the fake gifts. Oh, the humiliation

She's still trying to do pictures, by the way, even though Cory's away at school and I'm in another state. At Thanksgiving, she forced me, Eric, and Cory into a cozy little pose on the sofa. She's also "made do" with Cory's band picture and a very unflattering snapshot from my wedding.

Anyway, perhaps due to all the fuss over cards growing up, I've personally just made do with store-bought ones and been quite satisfied. Until this year. Suddenly I'm involved in card swaps with online friends, and I've recently become aware of the importance which the journalling world seems to place on cards. Every other journal appears to be sending out calls for addresses to which they can send cards; I have a sinking feeling that these cards are not going to be bought at Walmart. These people are artists.

So I've been toying with the idea of what else I could do rather than send out stock cards. I've come up with a few ideas, but lets' face it: I'm hopelessly art-impaired. Are my cards likely to be sub-par? Probably. But the effort! Ah, the effort will be...well, more than I've put into cards in the past, so that's something.

Anybody want a card? What the heck. If you don't mind seeing my pathetic tries, I'll be happy to oblige. Send me your snail mail addies, and watch your mailboxes!

Cuteness from Eric: he got up yesterday morning to use the bathroom, then stumbled back to bed, saying,

"Bad news."
"What?"
"Somebody broke into the house and straightened everything up."