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So why is it I placed a rush order on cards featuring my child's face this morning? Because I'm weak, that's why.

I didn't get many. Only 20. And I'm only sending them to people I honestly adore who've already sent to me, and people we never see or talk to otherwise. I've never understood that. "I never make an effort to talk to you or see you, but here's a picture of my kid! Merry Christmas!" And yet I do it anyway. I guess I can be proud of the fact that there's only one such card of that nature in my stack to mail.

I don't do the annual holiday letter, despite my writerly tendancies. I'm not going to go into my issues with the annual holiday letter, because I know there are probably plenty of letter-writers out there, and I'm cool with that. I must say, though, I almost changed my stance after reading the annual holiday letter from a friend who shall remain anonymous. I don't want to violate her privacy. Let's just say this friend has had a particularly rough year and decided to take it out on her holiday letter. She only shared it with a few close friends who get her gallows humor. Suffice it to say it was one of the funniest things I've read in a long time, and I really fought the urge to do a similar letter for my Christmas cards today.

But as I said earlier, I'm weak, so here's my annual Christmas letter for you, my lovely readers:

Dear Family and/or Friend:

Wow! 2006 sure did fly by, didn't it? It's been an eventful year for us and we can't wait to share it with you right now.

We started the year with a bang. On January 22nd, I accomplished my biggest feat of the year when I built a meatloaf shaped like a house. I know, I said that my major goal in 2006 involved finishing the edit on my book manuscript and working to get it published. Turns out, that's a lot harder than making a meatloaf that looks like a house, which is why I used the notebook containing my manuscript as a footrest in my truck for much of the year.

In Februrary, our little darling Clara Jane turned two. And no, she's still not potty trained. Yes, I know that when a child is able to say, "I don't like to wear big girl underpants or Pull-Ups because they feel wet," there's really no excuse for the child to not be potty trained. Much like book-publishing, potty training is hard.

You know what else is hard? Emotions. That's why I ended a shitload of friendships this year. I grew tired of dealing with the emotions of people who didn't give a crap about mine. Or maybe I'm just a selfish bitch who can't get along with anyone. Who knows? Either way, hope you enjoy this letter because with my track record, there's a good chance we won't be friends next year! Ha ha ha!

Emotions are really, really hard. I started having panic attacks again a year and a half after undergoing therapy that has a 90% success rate for panic disorder. Turns out I'm in the 10% failure bracket! On the plus side, I'm saving lots of money on holiday alcohol, instead getting my buzz from an assortment of anxiety drugs. Praise Jesus for good health insurance!

Anyway, where was I? March? About the only thing I remember about March was a great Wilco show, which couldn't be foiled by in-laws or adolescent histrionics.

In April my idiot dog Murphy ate a bee, kicking off the temprate season in our backyard with a buzz! Other warm-weather backyard events included pulling my kid out of a maggotty dead bird which the bee-eating nard later puked all over my living room. We closed the backyard season with an IBS-style incident that led to me shitting in my bathroom trashcan by mistake, my second best accomplishment of the year.

But we weren't the only ones having fun in the backyard. Oh no! Our trees were having such a party they couldn't even stand up! The first one fell over just for the fuck of it in October, while the second one had some help from that big-ass ice storm in December.

St. Louis was a great place to be in 2006. The Cardinals won the World Series! That seems like a fair trade for half the city being without power for the better part of two weeks from two seperate storms, right? St. Louis: good for sports fans, bad for electricity fans. We have our priorities! What's the problem with a crumbling electrical grid when there are baseball games to be won in a brand-new stadium?

We tried to camp out in right field when we were without power in July, but security threw us out.

Anyway, where the hell was I? Right, April. Or May. I forget. By early summer everything was just one fucking anxiety fog after another and frankly, I don't remember most of it, nor do I want to. If you remember it, please don't tell me about it, unless it pertains to our trip to Detroit or my trip to Ohio and Pennsylvania. Those parts were pretty good and I'd like to learn more about them, since my memory is shot to hell.

It goes without saying that Clara Jane was perfect in 2006. Except for the lack of potty training. And the temper tantrums. And her new hobby - hitting me. And that time she explosively threw up in the kitchen, then slipped in it and fell on her ass. Boy, we were both covered in puke that day! And that time when Angela and her kids were here for lunch, and Clara Jane presented me with a giant shit mitten. Kids do the darnedest things!

Overall, it was a good year. No one died, no matter how badly they wanted to. None of the trees landed on our house. Despite my anxiety problems, the anti-psychosis drugs kept me relatively on track, although they didn't make me a good friend. Perhaps they'll up my dosage again, and you'll receive our 2007 update. That is, if I haven't been lobotomized by then.

Happy holidays! Please enjoy this photo of Clara Jane. Look how much she's grown!