No witing About tmountains

Ahhh, Christmas cards. What say you on the subject? If taking a multiple-choice test, would your answer most likely be:

    A. Strangely curious fabrications of life and joy mailed solely to propagate falsities at Christmas?
    B. Mildly irritating notions on what can be labeled interesting, but products of the festive season
        nonetheless
    C. Enjoyable ditties on lives you love near, far, and in-between. Sure, why not?
    D. A critical imparting of soul juice for the celebration of friendship and family. Absolutely - how
        can you not?!

Well, depending on your letter option, you're somewhere between a craven Eboneezer or a candy-coma'd Cratchit. Wherever you fall, reflect on this: it's an option, not a requirement. It's a gift to receive, not a curse to begrudge. It's an opportunity to love and laugh - and maybe get a pretty good story, too.

This is our card this year. It's got a story. I mean, other than the one written on it. 

What's the short of the long?

 There is no witing about tmountains.

The long of the long? I found a great deal that would, essentially, take a nickel from my pocket for each print. Yeee-aH: sold! I fast found this template and plucked it from the bed of options because it let me use some candids rather than a full family pic. Why not the full fam? Well, it's a whole other story involving hair and clothes and meltdown possibilities- mine, not theirs - so I'll spare you the brutals. Suffice to say, my happy equation that day was candids + letter space = done deal.

Course my joy took the fast way downhill. I open the template. I place the photos. And I begin to write our ditty...in 4.5 point cruel even to the biggest, buggiest, micro-vision eyes on God's green earth. I zoomed, I widened, I got glasses. I squinted, I scrunched, I groused. I gave up.

And now there's two typos. TWO! Yes, yes: I could give it up.
Let it go.
   Roast some chestnuts over an open fire.
     Put a partridge in my pear tree.
        But I cannot. Why?
          Um, because I'm book smart, street stupid:
            have we not met?

What's that mean? Future post, for sure. Summarily, it's a keen intelligence capable of recalling volumes of data but lacking any singular ability to often apply it common-sensically. Yeah. That's me. To an "A" - for Anal-retentive.

It bears no surprise, then, that while complaining to my treasured friend, Amy, badmouthing and blundering the bits for a good 10 minutes, Amy (I did call her treasured, yeah?) calmly...but with that quake of "Seriously, Candy, you really are prone to missing the simple, aren't you?") quips, "Why didn't you copy it, paste it into Word so you could see it?"

Well, oBviously, the answer is this:

Because there would then be no witing about tmountains.

Which could make for one sad card

            ...except that it turns out to be a pretty good story.