thank your local postal worker.

I like to send out Christmas cards, and it's something I privately consider to be very Sandra-ish, because it certainly wasn't something I picked up from my parents, who only minimally noticed that December had arrived. True, lots of girls my age passed out Christmas cards in high school, but I like to think that mine were special. They weren't really, but I still like to think that.

I confess that I fell out of the habit of holiday cards during college. It might have been because I noticed that those boxes of cards were overpriced, or it might have been because I noticed that I didn't have that many friends anyway.

But fate put in a hand and I'm sending out cards this year. Last year, I sent them out, too, because a bourbon company send me a box of free promotional cards that were so awesome I wanted to send them to strangers just to use them all. That was also fate, cleverly disguised as the Maker's Mark Advertising Department. This time, fate was played by my desire for index cards, which led me to K-Mart during Christmas season. There was a small selection of boxed cards near the index cards, and I was sucked in. Darn them and their cleverly-arranged displays of holiday cheer.

I take my cards seriously. I make a list, check it way more times than that slacker Santa, and try to write a few lines in each card that makes it a little more personal than just a token greeting and my signature. Even if a couple of the cards have the same "personal" sentiment, it's not as if the recipients are going to compare notes.

But here is the real difference between my cards and anyone else's. On the back of the envelope, I write one more little holiday greeting, this one to all the hands that take my card from my own to those for which it is intended. I write "Happy Holidays to all the Postal Workers!" It really is a ridiculous thing to do, but I did it one year, probably to impress my mother, who is in that thankless line of work, and even though I decide every single year that it's kinda silly, I can't stop doing it. It would seem like a betrayal somehow.

I don't even know if any of the mail carriers see my message. They're busy right now and can hardly be bothered to read the back of every Christmas card they pass along. But maybe a couple of them see it, grin a little at my goofiness, and then pass it along. Maybe I'm not deluding myself when I think that I might be doing some good.

Who cares? My mother likes it.