Handwriting challenges aside, I love paper cards. I love the endless stewing involved in picking them out at the store. I love buying holiday stamps at the post office, and I love that 'whoosh' sound the cards make when I drop them into the mail slot.

Each year, in my quaint efforts to send out paper holiday cards with personal messages, I probably discard one for every three I actually manage to put in the mail. The reason is that my handwriting is now less legible than it was when I was in the second grade.

I liked the idea of coming out and picking up my mail from my doorway. But if the post office says they'd like us to put boxes on the curb, I guess it's a good idea.

My favourite books are Charles Bukowski's 'Post Office' and 'Women.'

The blankets had fallen off and I stared down at her white back, the shoulder blades sticking out as if they wanted to grow into wings, poke through that skin. Little blades. She was helpless.

Now I have to have the biggest P.O. box in the entire post office to get all the manuscripts coming in.