The Getting to Anywhere: a little story about cards

I would, once in awhile, not mind a straight route. A to B. I’ve wondered if the absence of straight routes for me is not solely attributable to non-linear-ism, but my repeated stubborn failure to do outlines. I’ve tried to stick to the plan, to commit to organizing things and not straying anywhere else, but even in the middle of them – ooh! – comes another idea, another little path.


One day she remembered that people have made up just about everything and a whole lot of it’s been mistakes and it was an excellent day after that.

Point is, I was all ready to post a blog yesterday when I started working on ONE more card. I had nine. 10. Ten seemed the number I should have.

I could NOT make the grammar sit up right and keep from fidgeting. This picture I added is actually my improvement.  (Hmm. I think I should make mistakes singular and add the right article and … except, I like the idea of a LOT of mistakes. Maybe I’ll just let it be what it is.)

I didn’t set out to do greeting cards but when enough people say, ‘These would make great, etc. etc.’ it’s hard to not eventually reply: well, ok, then. Besides, what’s not to like about having a wide range of products to take over all the surface areas in your home?

My neighbor dropped in when I started them and made a face. ‘Oh, I don’t think so. Who would I give that to?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said because I really didn’t know. I’m way over getting defensive – well, except for a little bit. I can get a little bit defensive. The lack of enthusiasm will show up. Anyone who even tiptoes into creative or artistic pursuits of any kind has to just accept it.

It was a moment that signaled defeat before I even started. Except that my mind has a backbone all its own. cards_envelopes

My neighbor clearly wouldn’t give one of my cards. But I would. Not because they’re mine (although that’s as good a reason as any), but because I can’t give a card that’s got platitude written all over it. Literally.

A few weeks ago, we bought a gorgeous arrangement of orchids, a gesture of condolence for a neighbor who suffered a death in her family. The florist pointed us to rack besides the register with an assortment of complimentary cards. It took longer for me to go through the options than to choose the flowers. Everything and anything written on them made my head squirm. A. had to step in and pick.

So. Maybe someone else out there wants something else out there. My cards will wait for people who want them. They are not cards that get from A to B quickly, but … they get there.

I think that’s enough for today, don’t you?


6 thoughts on “The Getting to Anywhere: a little story about cards

    • Oh, I don’t know if you could do platitudes if they paid you! :) (My neighbor – not meaning to diminish in any way; it’s just true – is all about them, which explains why we struggle for conversation so often. Unless we’re having cocktails.)

      AND I’m NOT making this up. I was just on your blog and thought of so much (I usually do when I’m there), but I don’t see a need to add to conversations that are already covering so much territory, which sort of illustrates some point.

  1. If I can buy an entire set by the box let me know. I’m also thinking that these could make a nice gift book, or coffee table book. My niece is only 4 but so much of this is stuff I want her to know.

    • JP, please oh please don’t feel obliged in any way. You’ve got a bathroom to pay for. :) I met a Man from Hollywood – the kind who talks and you can hear money rattling around – who wanted to make them into a book and blah blah blah blah and I felt like one of those baby actors who gets a Life Time Achievement Award. Or, rather, like those baby actors who get those awards SHOULD feel – wholly unqualified. :)

      On the other hand? What’s not to love about giving our little girls some mind tools? I meet so many young women on social media sites and I want to reach through the computer and pull their hair and say: you don’t have to go through this. If you just shifted your head a leeeeetle bit …

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