Stamping it Out

One of my hobbies is calligraphy. It doesn't often get remembered when I have to fill out online profiles because "hobbies" aren't really chic any more. Maybe hobbies like stamp collecting,model building or train sets for grownups and quilting just aren't the sort of things that appeal to the hip slick and cool virtual communities. The hobby shop in cable tv's series Crash is about to go under unless they start stocking something called Transformers (which I always thought meant the heavy black box we had to plug into the electrical outlet in our London flat in order to use our American made record player, but I digress as usual.) Instead we are invited to list interests which I don't consider the same as hobbies. Calligraphy is not an interest, like theatre, or an activity like mountain biking, so I'm not sure where to put it other than here where I can explain things, sort of.
It started with my scribbling imaginary married names on my mother's blue enamel stovetop using dead matchsticks dipped in dirty stove grease. Carol Smith, Carol Jones. I graduated to stealing my father's music manuscript pens with sharp wide nibs dipped in glass bottles of black ink. I used these when writing love letters, some of which were instrumental in one mistake/marriage. So, for obvious reasons I am careful who I "use" on.
My favorite calligraphy teacher is a sister Scot who has plied me with tea and shortbread and earned my devotion because she is just so incredibly talented and modest and hella funny. That's a package I can't resist. She got me started on the idea of having envelopes, ink, lettering and stamp all coordinated, the bitch. It's completely inhibited me from just tossing off greeting cards in any old scrawl using whatever latest ghastly Forever stamp the USPO is foisting on us and not minding it. Now each card has to be a work of art. So in my usual lazy fashion, I send cards in batches. I buy 'em in batches either at Kinko's or Trader Joe's cos the prices and selection fit my tight little Scottish art budget. Then I write 'em in batches, just to random friends with soppy sentiments, but with oh such lovely lettering, I secretly hope they will save the envelope with the card and treasure it for the hours of loving labour lavished thereon.

The coordinating thing has hit a nasty snag though. When last I went to the post office in person, the only "art" stamp was the Homer Simpson collection. I know !! Well of course it might not matter to the PG&E or cable company, and if the card is a funny one, all the better. But recently I had to send a sympathy card and I just COULD NOT bring myself to stick Bart Simpson on the envelope. The least worst might have been Marge Simpson, but somehow that didn't seem right either. So, anyway, I'm just saying, when you go to the post office and there's a nice stamp you don't need today, stock up for special occasions cos I had to make a special trip to the post office for something appropriate, and well, it just pissed me off. Then I felt guilty because after all, my "annoying" trip to the post office for a pretty stamp for a sympathy card is no match for what the recipient of the card must be going through. Some days I just need a reminder to get a better grip.