This was "whale-y" meant to be Juno's year to shine for the Christmas card

Ahhh. The annual Mosiman Christmas card. Eagerly awaited by some. Dreaded by most. But this year, outside forces converged to make this holiday communication all the more miraculously obnoxious.

First of all, my frail attempt to turn the spotlight from our customary canine superstar, Chlo, to her sometimes overlooked understudy, Juno, failed miserably. Excited about our festive theme, A whale in the manger, I was looking for an appropriate costume way back in October. Orcas were plentiful but, as Juno was a black dog, I required a whale of colorful contrast. Countless hours were devoted to the search before I spotted it: Thar she blows! The magnificent blue whale. Without hesitation, I speared the "Send" button.

Several days later, we reeled in our catch from the mailbox and attempted to wrestle Juno into the belly of the great beast. The costume perched around her head and neck like an over-stretched turtleneck. "I thought you said you ordered a large," Brad grumbled as he floundered with the fins. "I did," I insisted, tossing him the packaging. "Large," Brad read, "for small breeds."

Well, we crossed that hurdle. We had our whale. Now all we needed was the manger. Fortunately...I knew a guy. And he owed me. So that Sunday, I had a choice to make. Stay after church to make random small-talk before finally getting around to my request or fill out the Connect Card which tried to strong-arm personal information from me such as whether I considered myself a "guest" or "regular attender." I went with the Connect Card. Carefully separating its perforated edge from the worship bulletin, I deliberated where to write my petition and settled on the area designated for "Prayer Requests." An answer arrived four days later. I'm glad my prayer request wasn't for a tourniquet as I slowly bled out.

Dear Amy,

I have here a Connect Card  wondering if I have "access to a manger that could accommodate approximately 65lbs." I shudder to think what 65lb monstrosity you might be planning to use to desecrate the holy creche. Of course I naturally assume small dogs - but what else could be running through your heathen mind? An oversized meatloaf? A baby cow? An average 4th-grader? There is no room at the inn, or in any manger I might have, for the desecrating sacrilege that you are attempting to perform.

Concernedly,

Your Spiritual Advisor

So it was, just like Mary, that I was turned away.

And like the Blessed Mother, I would have to rely on my wits. In this case...Photoshop. And while it lacked the realism that I had wished to convey, it would have to do. I was washing my hands of it, at this point.

My final obstacle before meeting Brad's postal deadline of the first week of December ("So everyone has plenty of time to enjoy it," he told me) was printing. My final printed sample was centered to perfection. It was time to "hit the press!" What I didn't bank on was the perforated edge of my cardstock throwing the printing out of alignment. I was now faced with forty-five cards from The Mosima. Was I going to meticulously fill in nearly fifty Ns and Ss? Not when I had access to a die cut machine at my disposal! I cut out fifty purple Ns, wrote the letter S on all of them, and then, laughing gleefully at my Christmas craftiness, tucked them into the cards. A good Christmas card inspires a warm fuzzy feeling. A great Christmas card encourages deep introspection, sharpens the creative thinking process, and boosts brain power. My card just confuses everyone; provoking familiar holiday feelings of rage and ridicule. If you even manage to get the card at all. Sorry, Aunt Pat.