My favorite birthday card said, "There's only one way to slow down Father Time..."
"Mother Make-up."
Thanks to all who sent cyber birthday wishes, by the way. John and I are still getting a trickle of cards from relatives who have the same general time sense we do. I love getting cards, but I like sending them even more. I think I finance a large segment of Hallmark's Shoebox Greetings division all by myself. I don't bother waiting for holidays, usually, although holidays are a great excuse.
The one holiday tradition I go hog wild for is sending cards. I love to make my own, using my vast collection of rubber stamps to personalize them. Lately, though, I've slacked off. The only real problem I have with having discovered at a late date that I'm technically Jewish is a nagging sense of guilt over still enjoying Christmas. Okay, you may think that sounds stupid, but it bothers me. Yes, I was raised as a Christian. No, I don't consider myself one since I'm an atheist. Obviously, I'm not practicing Judaism either. So why would I feel guilty? Because I know I'm Jewish, and deep down inside it makes a difference. I can't say I'm Jewish culturally and not religiously (I don't have the cultural background). I can't pick and choose, even if everyone else on the planet does. I'm afraid the net result is I feel caught between two worlds. And I really hate not being able to enjoy Christmas any more.
Some years are better than others. Before we acquired our second cat, who is addicted to climbing, we had Christmas trees. I loved having live trees in the house, aglow with tiny fairy lights and shiny ornaments and strings of beads. I often sat and looked at them far into the night when the rest of the house was dark and cold, reveling in the vivid jeweled colors of the lights casting rainbows across the floor and admiring the glittering tinsel moving gently in the faint air movements. Alas, we have no more elaborate displays of tannenbaum with the advent of Keiko who would assuredly create a disaster. We put a small tree outside on the back porch with big outdoor bulbs on it, and I enjoyed it, but it wasn't the same. I sent very few cards. I suffered Two World Syndrome rather strongly last year.
I need to get over it, though. I have fond memories of celebrating Christmas, getting goosebumps from singing the old carols and baking Christmas themed cookies. Choosing gifts is a joyous task whether for Christmas or Hanukkah. And I really like making cards for my friends, carefully stamping the complex designs, sprinkling glitter on them, using special ink that puffs up when you hold it over a heat source. It's my gift to those people I care about who can't be nearby. It's how I feel about sending and receiving cards in general: it doesn't matter who made it as long as the person who receives it is happy the sender was thinking about them.
I was very happy to know so many of my readers thought about me on my birthday. Thank you.
