I spend a lot of time in airports, usually running to the gate right before they close the doors. Not normally a late person (or at least not normally wanting to be one), for some reason I cut it close each and every time. So on the rare occasion when I arrive early or my flight is delayed (both of which are currently the case!) I find myself trying to keep busy by doing those tasks that inevitably get put off each evening my the lure of slumber.
As is the case right now – today’s task (besides waiting on the police and expressing my very adult-inclined dissatisfaction with my realtor) is to make the Christmas Card List. If ever were a day to get thyself on my good side, today is the day. After all, who *WOULDN’T* want to see Lila in a Santa hat?
And yet, as I find myself going through my blackberry to make the official List, I find myself again being confronted with the phenomenon that was all-too-obvious at last week’s Ten Year Reunion; while the addresses may be “Alicia and Jon”, “Beth and Jack”, “Kelly and Drue”, the signature on mine is just “Aubrey”. I don’t have the “and John” or “and Pete” or even, God bless him, “and Michael Vartan” (because really, why WOULDN’T he want us to send a card together?) All joking aside, though, the Holidays are yet another slap in the face to all us singletons out there who, like me, have a certain predilection to send out copious amounts of Christmas cards.
And so, like last year and the one before and all the ones before that, you’ll soon be receiving a card from me and MY significant other(s), though know that the “and Menagerie” is simply implied.