In the first two weeks of November, on Facebook, I’ve said my bit about the red cups, the Paris terrorist attacks, and the Syrian refugee situation in the good ol’ US of A. It’s made for a frustrating, headachy couple of weeks that make my face hurt. Yes. My face. But now it’s time to step off my political soap box, and for my own sanity, put Facebook away for a good while, and focus on the good kind of insanity.
Can I get a hell yes? Or maybe a heck yes, in the spirit of Christmas? 😉
I am a psychopath.
About Christmas cards, that is.
I blame the photography nut inside me.
Growing up, I never saw myself as having any special talent, or being particularly gifted at anything. (Unless you count eating or swearing.) I watched my brother grow into his natural gift as a drummer very early on. Watched my cousin learn anything he wanted on the piano just by listening to it. My parents are artistically gifted, as are a handful of my aunts. It was never something I felt bitter about. Just always something I noticed. I didn’t have a “natural skill”.
I did however, love to take photos and write. I’ve always been something of a documenter. People would tell me I was good at photography. That that was my “thing”. While I was also very crafty at debunking anything complimentary, that particular observation from people always made me wonder, what if it was true? What if that is my thing?
Well, I kind of ran with that, and have been kind of-sort of running my own little photography business here in Wisconsin, and have found that taking Christmas card photos for other people brings me the same satisfaction as that of creating my own. In a more-yet-less stressful sort of way. If that makes any sense. Stressful in a different way.
Anyway, I digress. What was I saying? Oh, right- it’s Christmas card time, and I am crazy. If photography is my “thing”, then tackling the Christmas card is easily my annual endgame. Basically, my Christmas card has to be the best every year. Not necessarily better than other peoples’, but better than the previous year.
However, unfortunately, thanks to last year’s near-perfect sequence of events, and some crazy driving on my part, Anthony’s and my very first Christmas card together set the bar pretty damn high. (Referring very strictly to the more controllable factors like the location and background. Not me, nor my swollen face. And I don’t even know what color my hair is..)
High, as in it pretty much looks like we are standing in a mother freaking snow globe with Anthony’s parents’ Christmas-flavored guest house perfectly nestled off in the background.
High, as in it set a precedent I will never again meet nor surpass unless we have throw in a baby. Or if it snows here, in this perfect little town, before Thanksgiving, on a Sunday when Anthony and I are both home, my hair is curled, and I’m wearing plum purple. (You know. That’s all.)
As in, if it doesn’t snow next Sunday, it’s over, people.
Please tell me I’m not the only one who treats it like a senior thesis, “go out with a bang” project every year? Even if I am. Just tell me I’m not. 😉 Did I mention I am crazy?