I'm not sure who's reading this chronicle any more -- I know that I get about 100 "hits" each week, but that could be the same 15 people reading it each day. (I doubt that...) It's still enjoyable to write, so I'll keep it up. And I promised to post the contents of this year's Christmas card -- see below.
I'm rather proud of getting the cards finished and out the door (mostly) on time -- this was Rachel's job in years past. One difference is that she used to print them all on our printer at home to save a little money, and she would print a set of address labels from her Outlook account for the envelopes. This year I composed the card at home and then sent it to FedEx/Kinko's, and a box of 150 of them were ready to pick up the next morning. And I couldn't figure out how to do the labels, so I just printed out a listing of all the addresses marked "Xmas", and hand-addressed the envelopes as I watched that Thursday night Bears game against New Orleans, checking them off along the way.
I also went back through our saved stack of cards we'd received in previous years, to make sure I hadn't missed anyone. There were a dozen or so addresses in Outlook that I suspected were outdated, so I conscientiously looked those up using other sources. Somehow it seemed like an important thing to do.
As I did all of this I realized there were a few people on the list who probably hadn't heard the news about Rachel -- old friends, often living farther away, whom we just swap cards with each year. Each of them got a short note from me, of course. That's tough news to receive at Christmastime, I suppose, even from someone you've generally lost touch with.
So for those of you not on the Christmas card mailing list (old friends, new friends, curiousity seekers), here you go:
_______________________________________________
Yes, they really said it in 2008...
I went to my room twice without the lights on and I didn't think of monsters.
Is spontaneous human combustion possible?
If I was ever on Survivor I'd put a blanket in my pants.
You know, if we had 6 fingers we wouldn't have a middle finger.
Do my ears feel hot to you?
I already told you, I don't like people.
Can I use the giant pork fork?
Dad, why are you trying to spend “quality time” with us?
You can never have too many geckos.
Every night I tell all of my stuffed animals they’re the best. Then I tell them don't go braggin’ about it.
I'd hate to be a plane and afraid of heights.
When I burp upside down it makes me barf.
If our shoes had a fight mine would totally win.
It sounds like something is cooking in my mouth.
I can make myself look stupider.
It's the “Pink Mouthguard of Shame”.
This would have made Mom really happy.
Despite everything this year, we still recognize and give thanks for our many blessings.
We hope you do, too.
Merry Christmas
Pat, Fiona, Conor, and Emmet Harrigan
Pat
5 comments:
Merry Christmas Pat. Excellent work in picking up the communicator role. (I am a ~ weekly visitor to the blog.)
Looking forward to seeing you in the New Year.
Mike B
Merry Christmas to you Pat and your family! I suspect that everyone who read in the past contiues to read and looks forward to more! You have brought so much to so many... and such great gifts to your kids by carrying this on!
Happy New Year!
- Kim D.
Pat, we've enjoyed the cards in the past - the quotes always make us laugh and/or smile. Know that we're thinking about all of you - not just on Christmas but every day.
Still checking in Pat...Loved the card, as well as the glimpses into years gone past...I think it is great you are keeping this tradition going...a fun way to keep the memories..hope to see you soon, Poker Night is on the horizon..Love, Dawn
Happy New Year Pat and to each 'Mom would be proud' kid!
Am enjoying all of the 'family stories'; past and present as you connect with friends and wellwishers (old and new). And the stories themselves stir the minds of your avid readers to synthesize versions that are quite inimitable to each. In case you didn't know it, that's a blessing you give unwittingly.
Regards from Michigan,
Pam S
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