Season's greetings

Okay, so it's not the holiday season. But it is spring, which means graduations (Andy's cousin's, to be exact), and my dad's birthday. Those were this week's two cards.

When Andy and I went to SF in March, we visited his aunt and uncle, and his cousin Elie, who is about to graduate high school. I couldn't think of anything wise and noble to say to her during the tumultuous but exciting time, but I did enclose a check, which was probably a safe bet.

My dad's birthday is tomorrow, and I have to admit that I don't know how old he is. I'm terrible about that: I don't know his age, my mom's, my brother's, and sometimes I forget my own. But I did remember the date and hopefully mailed the card out soon enough that he'll get it on the right day. There are quite a few places where he lives that offer free birthday awesomeness, so I hope he'll go out and get what he's earned by doing such a good job of having been born (however many years ago).

On a postally-unrelated note, I just returned from a craigslist purchase: a pressure cooker! I had to drive about 40 minutes to get it, but I spent $20 plus... oh, $5 worth of gas, to purchase something that goes for ~$80 new. I'm interested to get into canning, but I didn't want to spend $100+ to buy all-new supplies for something in which I might lose interest. Plus, Carla came in the car with me, and that kept me entertained when I got a little lost and then had to wait for-freakin'-ever to back out of this woman's driveway. Actually some dude looked like he was going to get out of his car and bite my face when I wouldn't pull around (into a narrow space) a car with a dead battery. I waited until there was actually room, instead of nosing through and possibly scratching my car (or worse, the nice-looking dead one). I probably kept the guy behind me waiting for an extra traffic light cycle. Sucks to be him.

I've promised my brother a letter, since the little girl I work with said something funny about him, and I thought it was letter-worthy. That's on my to-do list for next week.

Now, get out there and write!

Behind again

All right... I know what you're thinking. "Is this a once-a-week blog, or not?" In my defense, I've written letters. I just haven't written about writing the letters.

Two weeks ago
I wrote a letter to Amy, a woman who I still refer to as my youth group leader, even though it's been eight years since I was a member. She's been one of my best friends for a long time, and the group provided a chance for me to be a leader, and probably is one of the things that got me into college. She's a no-nonsense lady and always treated us like we were intelligent people rather than kids to be discounted. I remember she had us take an anonymous test about sex and STDs and stuff to show our parents that we knew way more than they might have thought. Anyway, I sent her a letter telling her what's going on, and some memories of our group.

One week ago
I wrote (but have yet to have found an address to actually mail it) a letter to my other youth group leader, Jason. Kind of the same stuff--thanking him for putting up with us, which wasn't always easy. He was a later addition to the group, coming in after the group and its dynamics were already in place, and he volunteered to work with us. He was (and probably still is!) a great guy. He moved away from our hometown while I was out of the country, he got married in another state when I lived in a different one as well, and I've had no contact with him in a long, long time. I don't know if he knows that I started dating someone five-and-a-half years ago, and that I married him! Unfortunately, Google and whitepages.com didn't turn up his information and he's not on Facebook, but his wife is. I don't really know her, so I can't really blame her for not responding to my request for their address.

This week!
I wrote a card to friends from our Madison days. Neither couple lives there anymore. They were married in Milwaukee last year at a beautiful wedding at the Milwaukee Art Museum. We moved out east a few months after that, they moved to Chicago to be a morally-neutral lawyer couple (she works pro-bono, he... does not).

I did make it to the post office for two-cent stamps, but I didn't photo-document the journey. Why?

The worker at the post office informed me, after I was in the door, that only service dogs were allowed in. I had my hands full with the leash, so no pictures this time. But meet Carla, our rescue dog. I wish she'd stop waking at 4:30.

Until next week!