I am a writer. I churn out brochures, newsletters, magazine stories, books, speeches, news releases, citations, web content, and blog posts.
What I can't write is a simple message on a greeting card.
At the office, they pass around cards for birthdays, babies, retirements, illnesses. All I need to do is jot a quick greeting and sign my name. You know, "Have a great one!" or "We'll miss you!" or "Feel better soon." But by the time it gets to me, all the good ones are taken. Or I'm first and I just know everyone else will judge what I've written.
Oh no, I can't do this. I'll just set it down for a minute and come back to it. An hour later somebody wants to know where the card for Suzie is because we need to keep it moving.
In fairness, I've already written three...one for a printed coupon from the Honeyfund site, where I choose a small portion of their trip to China to support as our gift. A second message in a card that went around the office. A third in a notebook where we each wrote "advice" for a happy marriage, as if we know more about it than they do. But none of those messages said what I really want to say.
These two are smart and funny and conscientious and kind. They are great together and good for each other. We are nearly as excited about their wedding as we were about our daughter's. There, I've typed it. It's not that I don't know what I want to say...maybe it's that I can no longer think with a pen in my hand.
Which is funny, if true, because when I first tried to compose at the typewriter, I could. not. do. it. I wrote college compositions by hand on notebook paper and then typed them. Tonight I'll do the reverse. I'll copy my typed sentiments into the card by hand, and we'll sign our names. Crisis averted.