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Once upon a time, there was this gal named Judith…

This gal, who had only been married but a few years and had given birth to but one child and was therefore much “saner” than say…a gal who has given birth to three children?, worked as a personal assistant to a very cool, laid-back, totally unorganized entertainment lawyer.

This job was ideal in many ways…

One, said lawyer once was a music writer for the Village Voice and had hours and hours of envy-worthy memories and recollections that were wonderful to swim about in.

Two, said lawyer was also messy as all hell (in an artsy-fartsy way, of course), and Judith’s pseudo-OCD loved her because it was never bored. (Pseudo-OCD: Everything doesn’t necessarily have to be in its place… It just has to look like it is.)

Three, said lawyer sang folk music beautifully. Judith puffy hearts folk music.

Four, as a folk-singing entertainment lawyer, said lawyer was often surrounded by musicians. And, as we all know, Judith big puffy hearts pretty boys with guitars.

As I was saying…

An ideal job.

And one of the things that Judith loved most about her, outside of the stories and folk-singing and pretty boys, was her stationery*.  She had these two huge baskets full of blank postcards, note cards, greeting cards– all shapes, all sizes, from here and there, from now and then, on a plain, on a train…; and every few days or so, she’d remember someone’s birthday or  suddenly have a wish to say hello to an old friend and would ask Judith to “simply pick out a card”.

Judith thought that there was nothing at all “simple” about picking out a card from that collection, of course, and spent far too long sitting on the floor there in that office carefully digging through those giant baskets looking for the perfect card for someone that she had never met…

And firmly believed that the only way that she could have been any happier would be if a naked Gavin Rossdale suddenly appeared beside her and started reading aloud from her favorite Austen novels.

So it was only natural that once she outgrew her position with the very cool, laid-back, totally unorganized entertainment lawyer [Read: Got knocked-up. Again. And became a stay-at-home person that spends her days digging around in baskets of dirty underwear rather than note cards.]; Judith went out and started her own stationery* collection.

And every few days or so, she remembers someone’s birthday or suddenly has a wish to say hello to an old friend and picks out the perfect card that is sure to make someone’s day…

Then she sends them an email.

Good paper’s expensive, yo.