Falling Apart/Falling Together
Nope, I have not heard anything from Loyola about my polyp rodeo jamboree. I'm not worried and I'm not-not worried but mostly I'm not thinking about it which is the best way to go.
I have other things to think about.
I've done my parents' Christmas Card forever. I don't even know how long. All kinds of crazy paper extravaganzas. I'm gonna see if I can find some of them. They have got to be around here someplace.
This might have been the first one. We decided not to buy gifts and
to make a donation to Heifer International(heifer.org) instead.
We paid for a box of quackers.
This is the(only) year my Mom made Tofurky.
Okay so. This year, I had to kinda put it off for a bit until I exercised all the self-care that had to happen in 2016. But I got done with a week to spare and I was talking to my Dad on the phone and about to hang up and I said, oh yeah. We gotta do your card. I was thinking to shoot his portrait and make it half drawing/half cartoon. Or something.
They used to do a lot of walking.
We had previously discussed that it was going to have to be a New Years card again-hey man, if it had to be a Valentine that was the way it was gonna have to be, you know? It doesn't matter really though, does it? (I hope not because I've only got three cards done so far THIS year.)
They had a pet bird for awhile. It got so cold in their dining room
that the bird's water actually froze. They were from the Deeeeeepression. The bird
shoudda put a sweater on.
I-personally and quite frankly- am still so shocked to get a real piece of mail that's not from Blue Cross and Blue Shield these days, huh? I saved all the cards I got this year and I am opening them tomorrow like the gifts that they are.
They did a lot of walking. And when I'd say I would-once again-
make my parent's card? (Of course I would. I loved it.) She'd say: Oh goody!
So, my Dad says, oh you don't need to worry about that. You'll get yours tomorrow.
Here's me: whuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut?
The year she got her hip replaced. Different gait-still walking.
Yeah yeah he went to Hallmark. His grandson did the mailing labels and they're already out.
Me again: uhhhhhh Whuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut?
She didn't like this one. It was the year Haley's Comet passed by on her Christmas Eve birthday and she thought the candle was a phallic symbol.
Like I am sophisticated enough(not to mention strangely diabolical)
to add a subliminal phallic symbol.
This one was her idea.
A little more sedentary in 2014. They played dominos every night after dinner.
The idea was to let your food digest.
He had a yellow kick bike and he posed for this one in the alley.
We joked that the inside should say: I'm still here.
He complained about the cost last year, so we went with a postcard.
This was everybody's favorite. She got on her back on the cement and I hung out
the upstairs window to shoot the reference photo.
Yeah so. Apparently, while I was away, I got fired from my annual Christmas card gig. It wasn't like a, "There there dear, you're SO overburdened with your various obligations, I've decided to go with a little company I'd like to call Hallmark, instead."
It was a deal that was already done.
It's been angsting me like a freight train but I remembered the days my Mom plunged into dark moods and knitted therapeutic afghans and how much that actually sucked for everybody else, so I decided I'd write, maybe decorate some-already baked by somebody else-Christmas cookies(I have a deep yearning for sprinkles this time of year), try to be positive and maybe go for a walk.