Now, I write more Christmas cards than I do letters. I always stop at 65. I've written maybe seven or eight letters since January One. I didn't keep a log though because I forgot to. So, this one will count as No. 1. I have a new date book. It will make my letter-record- keeping much easier.
I grew up in the military. The life taught me the value of letters, notes and cards early on. Letter-writing was the number one way to keep in touch. Dang! There are too many people on the planet who know nothing about the scarcity of phone calls back in the not-so-distant past. When I was still a teen, long distance phone calls were reserved for near-death emergencies or notification of a death in the family. Or a telegram. No one made casual calls. No-o-o. Hmm. This is getting scary--making me feel older than I am, too. Let's just move on.
I wrote to my aunts when I was a girl. My mom was one of ten girls. We never lacked for someone to write to. I wrote to my grandmothers. I wrote to friends I left behind when Daddy was transferred to a new post. Some of them wrote back. It's a good thing I love the written word. I have a soft spot for the oral word, as well. Ha! Where would I be if I couldn't write a letter?
I write all kinds of letters. For instance? I'm good at writing to companies that have fallen short on their promises, their products, and their personnel. They write back! I like to believe they take me seriously if I take the time to sit, write, buy a stamp, stick it on, address an envelope, seal it up, and send it.
Sometimes a woman has to tell a few people off, too, and there's no reason not to do it in a well-written, polite letter, that's signed, "Sincerely," since I am always sincere about what I write. Or "Yours Truly." When I sign off with "Regards," that's a certain indicator of the distance our being strangers dictates as being proper. It might also mean that I'm contacting someone over your head in another letter. Means I'm gonna tell on you. Or not. Sometimes "regards" means I have high regard for you, or it's pretty low. Either way I just want you to know that.
So. I never resolved to write a letter a day because I know for a fact that I won't do it. I thought, "Hmm. If I tell someone I'll do it, I'll have to." There's nothing guaranteed to keep my nose to the grindstone more than the threat of having to hear "I knew you couldn't do it." But, I don't care to have a pleasure become a chore. And, let's face it, it's not like I have a lot to write about these days.
I am too young to be a granny, so no grands to write about. I am not having a love affair. I am not going to Rome or Paris . . . That includes Paris, Texas, okay? I'm not even planning a trip to Dallas. Shucks, I'm really not doing much anyone would be interested in hearing about. Wonder how that makes me feel, do you? Feel free to ask. 'Cause if you know me, you know that I will tell you. And I am long-winded, too. Just keep those two facts in mind before you give your curiosity free rein. I'm pretty open about most things.
Now. Thrills and excitement might be on the low end of all-things-exciting, according to some, but hey, I take it where I can get it. Or like Bobby Blue Bland says, "Or I can leave it like it is. Cause that's the way Life is." Only he says that's the way love is. Love? Life? Same goes for both, don't you think?
But . . . It doesn't take a lot to make me purr. However, it takes more than the usual to get my motor humming. Less is more. If what's less is rare or original or unusual. Where's the sense in being satisfied with the ordinary? Know what I mean?
Of course you do. That's why I'm going to offer a tip to make your letter-writing an experience that has the potential to make you and the recipient of your future letters grin. It will make your letters a bit unusual and different. I'm not going to write it out. I'm going to show--not tell. Three images and you'll know exactly what I mean. Ready?
Wait! Should I have prepared you more? Should I give you at least one hint? Dare I mention what you're about to see matches my purple pen from Levenger, and the purple pen Shin gave me for Christmas?
Oh, all right then. Here you go . . .
Oops! Sorry. I jumped the gun. But, this is tied into everything.
Here! Below! Scroll!
See??? Lovely-lovelylovely! Right?
The envelope is darker turquoise than it appears here, so it's especially lovely with the lavender wax seal. That stamp? Doesn't it seem made for this letter? Who knew it would all come together on purpose, considering I bought the stationery weeks before I bought the seal. Well, I bought the wax the past summer. Had forgotten all about it. Was searching for the green and one thing led to another, and see what happened? I have cream and white also.
I'd tell you about the um . . . interesting stains, but then I'd have to admit to . . . Never mind. It's the thought that counts. Right?
This letter is Chicago-bound!
So, write on!