Mastering the Art of the Holiday Greeting Letter

The 2011 holiday season is upon us.

Christmas decorations light up the streets as neighbors try to prove who among them has the most holiday cheer. Phones ring off the hook as charities try to milk holiday goodwill for as much as they can. Mailboxes fill with holiday cards and letters, most of which are from people whom you haven’t heard from since last year’s holiday greeting.

Given my own absence this past year, I thought I’d come back to this blog with a holiday letter of my own.  Then I realized anyone who is reading this is probably one of the few people with whom I’ve actually spoken these past several months.  So, instead, I decided to create a template for any procrastinators out there still trying to send out a holiday letter by year end. 

So here it is, your quick and easy guide to a holiday letter:

Begin with a salutation.  (i.e. Dear Family, Friends, and those who need the yearly reminder that my life is better than yours,)

First things first - apologize for your absence over the past year.  Work, school, break-up, death in family, and “life getting in the way” are examples of widely accepted (or at least relatable) excuses. Next, include the obligatory “I truly miss your company and will be sure to get in touch early in the New Year” statement. (Note: if you keep it vague and don’t include the actual year, you can just use this sentence verbatim for subsequent holiday letters.)

Now that you’ve made a mea culpa for your absence, it is time to move on to a description of your/your family’s wonderful year (in spite of the absence of 90% of the people receiving the letter).  The key to a good “year in review” is to mention a few specifics highlighting the good and putting a spin on the bad.

If newly single, play up the wonders of “independence” rather than turning it into an awkward tell-all about your failed relationship.  If unemployed, elaborate on the joys of taking the time to discover your passion in life, and exploring potential careers that are both personally and professionally fulfilling. If a student, just avoid the words “insurmountable debt” and “no post-grad employment prospects” and you should be fine.

Any good news you want to share is your opportunity to unapologetically brag, but it is important to do so in a tactful way. The key to successful yet modest bragging is the inclusion of pictures in your letter.  For instance, if you lost weight over the course of the year, rather than saying, “I look damn good,” a picture will say it for you.  If you got married or had a baby, show off the new addition in a family photo.  Just make sure it’s a good picture.  Never underestimate one’s ability to mercilessly judge others.

Conclude the letter with a summary of your holiday plans, and one final well-intentioned fib about getting in touch in the New Year.   Depending on the recipients, end the letter with “Love,” “Cheers,” “Happy Holidays,” or a comparable sentiment.  Then sign your name(s), and there you have it!  Your holiday letter is officially complete.

Hope this helps (and by helps, I mean amuses you while you count down the hours until your paid vacation begins).  

Wishing everyone a very Merry/Happy everything! I truly miss your company and will be sure to get in touch early in the New Year.  Honest. J

Lauren

A Weary Traveler’s Appeal to the USD

Dear U.S. Dollar,

I know you’ve had your ups and downs over the years, and the recent economic turmoil has undoubtedly taken its toll.

Given the circumstances, it’s normal to feel a bit depressed.  The problem is you’re just not bouncing back the way I would have hoped.

There’s no surefire way to immediately eradicate your depression, but you do have options.

Some people swear by therapy.  Some turn to food or alcohol.  Others simply self-medicate.

I suggest the latter for you.

Just ask your friends at the drug companies to help you out. Not only have you been quite good to them over the years, they also have a vested interest in your wellbeing, so I’m sure they’ll conjure up a cocktail to help expedite your recovery.

Perhaps a nice combination of anti-depressants and steroids would do the trick.

Bottom line: you need to get your strength back. This weakness isn’t good for you, and it certainly isn’t good for me.

When I planned my trip to Europe, you weren’t in great shape, but you at least had the Euro in your sights.

Now it isn’t even a contest.  The Euro is doing victory laps while you seem to be content celebrating with a participation trophy.  And that’s just sad.

The time has come to get off your ass and fight back.  The Euro is hurting amidst rumors (which Greece’s PM is refuting) that Greece may defect, so capitalize on the fallout of these reports before your brief window of opportunity closes. 

Who knows - if you fight hard enough (and fly some pigs) you may even beat the Euro.

…Or tie.  Really, I’d settle for a tie.

Kind Regards (sorry, not feeling the love right now),

Lauren

Touché, Body. Touché

I was feeling pretty confident during my first couple weeks in Europe.

No longer did I feel like a 24-year-old trapped in the body of an 80-year-old woman.

I was still able to function after walking 5-10 miles a day, so I was confident that I was finally ridding myself of the not so coveted "lazy ass" title.

Well here’s the problem with confidence.  It’s hard to distinguish the difference between confidence and over-confidence (or in my case, stupidity – it’s a fine line, really). 

My first reality check came during a visit to Notre Dame.

For those of you who haven’t been to Notre Dame, the trek to the top is a spiral staircase, and they warn you that visiting the top is not recommended for the elderly, people who dizzy easily, etc.

Although it doesn’t take more than a bad camera angle in a movie to make me feel dizzy, I was confident I could make it to the top.

Around the 200^th step, however, my body became acutely aware that it was walking up hundreds of steps in a very tight spiral.

I carefully put one foot in front of the other and focused solely on staying vertical and reaching the top.  Finally, I saw the light. Literally - there was an open door and the sun was shining through.

I walked out into the glorious open space, inhaled a deep breath of fresh air, and thought, “Oh crap, I’m going to pass out.”

I found myself a little step and sat down on my own accord before gravity aggressively did it for me. And for the next several minutes, there I sat, looking pathetic, yawning like an anxious dog desperate for more oxygen.

Well, after composing myself and successfully making it back down to flat ground, I vowed to always have water with me, remember to eat, and avoid spiral staircases.

Cut to four days later in the Loire Valley, when my traveling buddy and I decide to go on a leisurely 17km bike ride to Chateau de Chambord.  Now, if you’ve read my previous posts, you know that one of the last times I was on a bike I ran over a snake, traumatizing me for life.  Well, the most recent time I remember being on a bike was over a decade ago, and I fainted while riding.

Given my history, a 34km bike ride was clearly a recipe for a successful afternoon.

Well, the first 17km turned into about 25-30km, and I ran out of water within the first 15km.

There’s that stupidity I mentioned earlier.

So, after I miraculously made it to the chateau, I refueled with some water and sorbet and decided it best to take the bus back to town.

So we toured the chatueau, spiral staircases and all, and arrived at the bus stop 20 minutes early, and waited.  And waited. And waited.

Just my mazel, the bus never showed. 

So, it was back on the bike, with the mantra, “I cannot call home to say I passed out on Mother’s Day and the day of my brother’s graduation,” running through my head.

Well, somehow it worked. 20km and 1.5 hours later, the 80-year-old version of me arrived back at the hotel.

All I have to say is touché, body.  You win this round.  But, mark my words, by the end of these three months I will no longer be trapped in the body of an 80-year-old woman!

…More like an in-shape 50-year-old woman.

Travel Like it's 1999

3 months. 10+ countries. 3 bags. No cell phone.

Anything you may have just thought has already occurred to me, give or take a few expletives.

While it’s hard to explain the exact purpose of my travels, this is by no means an abbreviated “Eat, Pray, Love” quest.

The closest I’m getting to prayer or religion on this trip was my attempt to keep kosher for Passover while in London.  (This decision was made after my body impolitely rejected the airplane food not certified kosher for Passover.  I took it as a sign.)

But since “Eat, Pray, Love” seems to be the primary benchmark for lengthy post-college travel abroad, let’s call this an “Eat, Write, Eat Some More, Then Walk…a lot” journey.

Yes, eating does still get top billing.  What can I say, I have my priorities.

And for this trip, my priorities are simple: eat great food and try not to be an ugly American as I make my way across Europe.

I hope to entertain everyone with a few good anecdotes from each of the countries I visit. And if not, I am carrying roughly 1/3 of my body weight in luggage, and have yet to buy a cell phone, so I’m bound to make an ass of myself at least once or twice, which in and of itself should make for some good stories. 

As of  yet, I’m not sure which is going to present the bigger challenge - the luggage or lack of cell phone.  On travel days I think it’s the former, but on most days I think it may be the latter. 

It has been over a decade since I haven’t been surgically attached to a cell phone.  Although I am not experiencing separation anxiety, I am realizing that I’ve forgotten how to function without one. 

Sad, but true.

Less than 12 hours into my journey, I faced my first test sans cell phone: finding my travel partner in Heathrow. 

Long story short: Technology 1, Lauren 0.

The World According to Congress

Imagine the following scenario:

On the first day of class in January, a professor hands you a syllabus listing a March 4 due date for a group project.

January comes and goes. Every group meeting turned into a social function - little is accomplished.

February rolls around. The group spends most of the time arguing about the best way to approach the topic - still nothing gets done.

Now it’s March. The project is due in less than a week, and the group is meeting at all hours to try and come to an agreement on the direction of the project, but a few select group members will not acquiesce to ideas they do not fully support.

The night before the due date, you request more time, and the professor graciously grants a two-week extension.

The group puts the project on the backburner, and suddenly you’re in the exact same position you faced two weeks prior.  The group has made some progress, agreeing to a mutual end product, but still cannot agree on a means in which to achieve said end.

Again, you beg for an extension, and the professor grants another two weeks.

Now it’s April, and the group project has turned into Groundhog Day. The due date is looming, and no one will compromise. You find yourself staring down the due date with a mere hour and a half to go. At a stalemate, you ask for another extension – “but just one week!” - and the professor, again, agrees.

To the average person this scenario should sound absurd, even comical. Of course, this would be a lot funnier if it were not based on Congress’s actions of late.

Anyone who has dealt with deadlines in school or their workplace knows such requests for extensions are not feasible in the real world. Apparently normal rules cease to apply on Capitol Hill.

Less than an hour ago it was announced they agreed to yet another temporary extension to avoid a partial government shutdown. I believe this puts Congress at extension number 3 (just in 2011 - I won't put as much blame on the 111th Congress).

I take offense when obstinate members of Congress declare they are standing their ground to protect the interests of their constituency. No person is 100% satisfied with every law, bill, or motion supported by their elected representatives. But that’s life. The rest of us have to deal with it, why can’t Congress?

Maybe if members of Congress stop worrying about re-election backlash if they approve Planned Parenthood funding, and start worrying about the soldiers families who won’t get paid, and the negative effect on government employees and the general livelihood of the nation’s capital, which largely depends upon Federal government operations, a compromise can actually be reached.

I’m sure most of you know the phrase, “do as I say, not as I do.” Well, rather than doing as they say, maybe we should all do as they do, which will likely result in mass layoffs. Best of luck to Congress figuring out how to work those added unemployment benefits into the budget.

Mia and the Media

Recently I’ve experienced a great deal of anxiety before I turn on the news.

It is not because of the horrifying images from Cairo, or the tragic stories emerging from Libya.

It is not because of the widespread devastation caused by the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, or because of the looming government shutdown.

It is because of the snake formerly known as @BronxZoosCobra.

I’m not sure if this is a sign that I’m extremely jaded, or that my fear of snakes has reached truly ridiculous heights.

My guess – it’s a combination of the two.

To put this in context, I have had an irrational fear of snakes my entire life.  

On multiple occasions I’ve found myself scared by rubber snakes, garden hoses, and even the occasional stick.

My fear was exacerbated about 15 years ago on a family bike ride in Hilton Head, SC.  There was a snake stretched across the length of the bike path.  My mom saw it. My brother saw it.  I didn’t.

My family proceeded to torture me for the rest of the day, taunting me that the snake's family was angry, and they were coming to get me.  I’ve never found the open cracks and holes in a sofa bed as utterly terrifying as they were that restless night.

Needless to say, I make it a point to avoid situations that may result in potential encounters with snakes.

I don’t go exploring in the woods. I wait outside reptile houses at the zoo.  I avoid any Google searches that may produce images of snakes.

And then the Bronx Zoo Cobra fiasco happened.  Despite the 200 miles separating us, there was no escape from this damn snake.  

Every time I opened CNN.com, picked up a newspaper, or turned on the news, there she was.  

The media coverage was relentless from the day she went missing to the day her name, Mia (missing in action), was ultimately selected.

However, now that Mia finally has a name and is back in her home, I am optimistic that Mia will disappear from the limelight, and the media can resume reporting on other public interest stories, like the public education system’s failure to teach children how to share and compromise.

Oh wait, did I say children?  I meant Congress.

Sooo…How ‘Bout These Past Two Months?

I started writing a new post on Super Bowl Sunday.

March Madness is almost over.

I’m not entirely sure what happened in between.

Thanks to my procrastination, the only evidence of my attempts to write is a number of half-written ramblings that are now about as timely as snow in April.

But, seeing as how it flurried this past weekend, I’m using that as an excuse to emerge from my cyber-hibernation.

So before I move on to more pertinent topics in the coming weeks, here are some random musings from the past two months:

• Super Bowl commercials have never been the same since the Budweiser frogs were retired.  I really miss those little bastards.
• It took me six hours to drive four miles during a minor snowstorm, so I think it’s safe to say that in the event of an actual crisis/evacuation, people around DC should just load up on liquor and duct tape (government recommended, idiot approved), because the DC-metro area is totally and completely screwed.
• Mubarak was quoted as saying, “If I resign today, there will be chaos.”  Right, because when I see mass riots and civil unrest, I think peace.
• A single woman cannot make judgments about Valentine’s Day without sounding pathetic. I tried. It was a wasted effort.
• Thank you, Charlie Sheen, for giving us “winning” as the first official catch phrase of 2011.  
• Thank you, again, Charlie Sheen, for showing us there is a level of crazy higher than “bat shit.”
• When St. Patrick’s Day and March Madness coincide on a Thursday, it’s like a mini spring break for the employed.
• In case there were any doubts about the feminization of nature, after the recent tsunami in Japan, I’m pretty sure “Mother Nature” solidified her status as the supreme bitch.

…Just in case anyone needed proof that the title is not mine for the taking.

State of the Disunion

This post is quite overdue. I started writing it as a running commentary during President Obama’s State of the Union address, but its completion was derailed by a lengthy power outage and my inevitable procrastination.

In other words, I’m about as efficient as Congress.

This is not a political analysis of the State of the Union, but I would be remiss if I didn’t mention this year’s integration of republicans and democrats in the House chamber. The crossing of the aisle was deemed a symbol of the newly united Congress in the wake of the Tucson shooting (and the polarizing bitch-fests that marked the 111^th Congress).

While I do appreciate the sentiment, it will take more than a game of Congressional musical chairs to convince me that “united Congress” is no longer an oxymoron.

Absent the aisle’s role as political party divider, democrats and republicans wore blue and red ties/suits, respectively, to avoid being confused with the enemy. Yeah, united my ass.

I was debating the myriad ways politicians are full of shit when I heard the president say, “It gets even more complicated once they’re smoked.”

Imagine my dismay when I realized he was talking about salmon.

To the President’s credit, this comment seemed to reengage the audience.  However, my attention was quickly refocused on the two men seated behind the president: the man identifiable by less than 60% of American citizens…and John Boehner.

For the entirety of the speech, Vice President Joe Biden and Speaker Boehner have the somewhat awkward task of sitting behind President Obama, their every reaction (or lack thereof) being captured on camera for the entire nation to see. 

Their awkwardness is my gift.

Boehner did not even attempt to conceal his boredom. He stared blankly. He fidgeted. He removed lint from his suit. He yawned. 

He was the spitting image of a hung-over (albeit well dressed) college student fighting to stay awake during a 9:00am lecture.

I anxiously watched as it looked as though Boehner was about to lose the battle. His eyes closed, his head bobbed, and for just a split second, he fell asleep.

With Johnny Drama’s “VICTORY!” cry echoing in my head, I moved my attention to the VP.

Biden was as animated as Boehner was stiff.  He smiled frequently.  He pretended to jot down notes. And on multiple occasions, he eagerly clapped to an otherwise silent room.

While I was considering possible explanations for Biden’s exaggerated enthusiasm (bribery or perhaps a prescription drug), he made a gesture I never saw coming. 

Upon Obama’s mention of Biden’s working-class roots in Scranton, PA, the Vice President of the United States fist pumped in front of Congress. 

That’s right, Biden’s Pennsylvania pride elicited a fist pump. 

After watching that, I guess there’s really only one thing left to say: LET’S GO PACKERS!!!!

New Year, New Resolution

“Dear Lord, if you can’t make me skinny, please make my friends look fat.”

This sign greeted all who entered the suite I shared with my five roommates sophomore year of college.

This “prayer” was never answered.  My friends (yes, you) are gorgeous.

And so, year after year, I make a New Year’s resolution to lose weight. 

Granted, after a decade of saying this, it’s more like an annual declaration of self-loathing than an actual resolution.

In an effort to mix things up a bit, last year I resolved to stay completely healthy for one entire day.  I don’t know if it was the fact that I tempted fate, or if it’s just my mazel, but my body took this as a challenge. 

I lost.

My defeat isn’t all that surprising.  New Year’s resolutions set you up to fail – it’s the nature of the beast.

Besides, the way I figure it, the rate at which New Year’s resolutions fail is likely comparable to the U.S. divorce rate, so at least I’m in good company.

To hedge my bets, I made two resolutions this year. 

The first was to stop procrastinating.  Seeing as I started writing this post three weeks ago, it’s safe to say that’s out the window.

The second, and now my official resolution, is to make 2011 the year I will be more selfish.

For those who don’t know me (and for some of you who do), I’m sure the word “bitch” just popped into your mind.

It’s ok, I’ll own it.

But, I have another word for you: ingenious.

If I’m more selfish, I’ll be less stressed.   If I’m less stressed, I’ll stop stress eating.  If I stop stress eating, I’ll stop gaining weight.  If I’m not gaining weight, I won’t be as bitchy.  If I’m not bitchy, no one will notice I’m being more selfish.

Yeah, I’m just that good.