My bi-polar mother is particularly fixated upon on cards. The tackier, the better. All of us have social quirks and for her, cards loom large. All of us have social rituals that matter more to us than our peers. A friend of mine goes bananas if you don’t make a big production of saying thank you after dinner. Another pal of mine is big on giving flowers. There is never an occasion for which flowers are not appropriate. A woman I know is big on complimenting other women on jewellery. Every conversation grinds to a halt for 45 seconds while she trots out exactly the same compliments like clockwork.
We each have social fixations, that, for us, loom a little larger. If your mother is like mine, cards are the grease that makes society tick along without any squeaking. Every occasion requires a card. Worse yet, she keeps bins of the damned things. I guess in her mind it’s a physical demonstration of her social currency.
If you’ve read other entries on this blog, you’ll be aware that I have a rather one-sided relationship with my mater matris. But, it costs me little to maintain the social graces, so I buy the darned cards as it makes her happy. May I suggest the following tip: look in the stationary shop’s humorous card section. Even the humour section have cards for all of the major occasions like birthdays, the religious and social holidays.
Because those cards typically don’t have the phrase ‘I love you’ in them.