This year, I planned to make muffins for the neighbors and deliver them on beautiful plates with festive Christmas napkins. I was going to send hand-written Christmas cards—some of them to Brazil to people I miss there. I was going to—well, it doesn't matter now. Most of my neighbors jumped town as soon as finals got out. And I haven't bought cards, nor collected the mailing addresses where I would even send them if I had.
I wish I were on top of things.
I am. Some things. My finals are finished and grades are submitted. My house is semi-clean. Most of the gifts are wrapped. And I haven't crashed the car in any recent snow storm. We're doing ok.
Not just ok—we're happy. We've been married for over a year now; we have the cutest nephew; we write to a missionary brother in India; we love the new apartment we moved into; we're a year closer to graduation (only two more semesters); we both love our in-laws; we have good friends; and we can't wait to curl up with a few good books during the break.
I guess that's the closest I get to a Christmas card.
I'll bring you muffins next year.