As I took down holiday cards taped to my kitchen wall I was hit over and over again with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

My friends who are parents send pictures of their little ones.  How fast they grow.  How time really does fly.  Most of the pictures are of kids that live miles from me.  Kids that I never see but once a year.  Kids that didn’t know their mommies and daddies when I knew them.  When we slugged back vodkas and scooped out Ben and Jerrys and contemplated if there really was life after college.   And although I am very happy to report that yes, indeed, there is life after rolling around on the ground and pretending to be animals, I realize that there is still vodka in my freezer and multiple empty ice cream cartons in my recyclables.  My friends are rolling around on the ground still, but they are doing it with a new role and new little ones.  I can’t help but look in the mirror and wonder if life is passing me by.  Everyone around me is changing and growing while I am still grunting in yoga class attempting to get my butt over my head.

Then there are the cards with messages of hope and of love and of best wishes from far away.  I reread them as I take them down.  I feel blessed with all of their sentiments folded in green and gold, in trees and reindeer.  The cards come from all over the country and that we still find a way to touch base, touches me. 

And then hits the hard stuff.  The Catholic-raised stuff.  The stuff that has kept me awake at night and has made me feel inadequate this holiday season.  The underlying, the unrelenting, sensation of Guilt.

I didn’t do one thing this winter that I have done since 1993.  One thing that has gone astray.  That I let go. 

I didn’t send out Christmas cards. 

My friends and family are award-winning multi-taskers.  They do Pilates, they swim, train horses, write poems, make websites, bake, knit, volunteer, garden, walk dogs, organize books clubs and cookie swaps and PTA meetings.  They are parents and rock stars and chefs and directors and actors and teachers- all while balancing children and spouses and spicy mother in laws.  And yet, they got their Christmas cards out.  And early too.

So what’s my problem?

I could blame it on the economy. 

That’s an easy one.  Blame everything on the economy.  Save money on stamps.  That’s it.  I was saving money on Virgin Mary stamps.  That makes me feel a whole lot better. 

I could blame it on being “green”. 

That would be a great one if I had only thought of it myself.  And although I am a recycling-freak, I do know that there are stationary stores in Manhattan that are keeping afloat because my business.  I love the smell of card stock.  I love the written word.  I love a signature in a fancy fountain pen.  I love sealing the envelope and putting it in a big blue box and having a postman deliver it to you by foot.  Hmph.

I could blame it on being busy. 

But that would be a lie.  With unemployment and auditions few and far between I have spent most of my fall and winter in the 3 feet radius of my apartment that contain my couch and TV.   I can tell you the story lines to a dozen shows and name everyone’s first name on Top Chef, but yeah, busy?  Can’t say that I have been.

The truth lies in the simplest part of me.  That part locked in my chest that makes it hard to breathe.  I was just completely, utterly, uninspired. 

Honestly, I didn’t know what to write.  I had no catch phrase this year.  I had no witty words.  I had no “recaps”, no “future sights”, no “wait-until-you hear-this”.  I had no new wisdom.  No spunk.  No joy to the world. 

And I felt that any “merrys” and any “happys” would be a little fake.  And a bit insincere.  And so I never put pen to paper.  And I never licked the envelope.  And that is why you didn’t get one from me this year.  I just didn’t have it in me.

The end of the year always gets me down.  Reflection is something that I am really good at, but something I do to a fault.  Instead of all the birthday parties marked in my 2008 calendar, I see the catering parties I worked through.  Instead of the gigs I did that I was proud of, I see the auditions of all the things I didn’t get.  Instead of seeing the busy days, I count up the ones where I was wandering the streets with nothing to do.  I see a year full of misses and slips and silence and trying really really hard.

Do you get rewarded in Heaven for trying really really hard?

So with great MERRYIMENT I toss out my old and scratched up 2008 calendar.  A reason to sing Hallelujah!  Those 12 months are done.  A year that will not make a chapter in my memoirs or as an anecdote on The Late-Late Show.

And yet, I have to feel Gratitude that comes with a boring year.  I didn’t lose a loved one.  I didn’t lose my mind.  I didn’t lose all of my hope.  I am still at it and I am still loving and I am still trying to throw my butt on top of my head.  And I still adore you.  And I want to thank you for reading this and being by my side. 

And I know in my heart of hearts that my date book, although thorough, does not reflect the laughter, the late night phone calls, the silly emails, the surprises, the support, the movies, the lunches, the coffees, the spirits, the walks, the shopping, the venting, the songs in my soul, or the chorus of Friendship in my life.  It is those moments, in between appointments, that thread my day-to-day, month-to-month, that make up a year.

So it is with sincere appreciation that I wish you and your loved ones a very happy new year.  May this New Year reignite faith in the human spirit.  May it bring you fresh perspectives and fresh ideas.  May it bring Abundance in forms of hugs and kisses and good fortune and a thousand open doors. 

If I had an envelope I would lick it and send you those words in the mail.  With a bright Virgin Mary stamp.  And a big Obama sticker.