Having the next couple days off, I suppose it’s high time that I sit down and get my Christmas cards into the mail.

For the most part, this is something that Mrs. R takes care of on behalf of the Port Swiller Family (and does so with her usual domestic efficiency), but I still have about half a dozen – mostly to some of my imaginary blog friends – that I handle myself.  (If you’ve sent me one, you know who you are.  And now you know why you haven’t received one back yet.  Yes, I denounce myself.)

As to the inflow, there is as usual the healthy admixture of family “newsletters” (which I never read anymore) and cards from people I’ve never heard of before.   Also, there seems to be an increased competitive show-off element in what we’re getting this year, to the point that even Mrs. R is commenting on it.  (And when Mrs. R starts sounding like me, you know you should start looking over your shoulder.)

However, my favorite card for many years running has been one that we get from a church acquaintance of ours who is also a local real-estate maven.  It isn’t the card itself, however, so much as the address label on the envelope which she obviously prints up off her office contacts list and reads, “Mr. and Mrs. Robbo T. Portswiller or Current Resident”.

That makes me laugh every time I get it.