You write the card.
We do the rest.
Nobody misses a close friend’s birthday because they stopped caring. They remember three days before, which is too late to post a card, and send a text instead.
So we moved the deadline. Tell us the birthdays and anniversaries you care about, and about two weeks before each one a card arrives at your door — addressed, stamped, ready to go. You write it. You mail it.
No app to remember. No card aisle. No “I’ll send it this weekend.”
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i
A card worth sending
5 × 7 on heavy stock, from the small publishers a good stationer buys from. In a style you chose, picked to suit the occasion, and blank inside.
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ii
An envelope, ready to go
Their address on the front, yours on the back, a real stamp in the corner.
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iii
A note with the date
A few lines to start you off, and a large mail-by date so the card actually goes.
Arrives about two weeks early
The problem was never the card
It was the four small jobs between caring and sending. A card that suits them, their address, a stamp, and the writing — each one its own chance to let the week slide by. We do the first three and have them at your door two weeks early. What is left is the writing, and a walk to the postbox.
Add the dates once
Birthdays, anniversaries, whatever matters. They repeat every year without you touching them again.
Cards arrive ahead of time
Grouped into a single flat envelope, in date order, nearest one facing you.
We nudge you on the day
One email on the morning it needs to go in the post. Then it’s a thirty-second job.
“As someone who often forgets to get cards in the mail for my friends and family’s birthdays, having a card arrive ahead of time and just sitting there on my counter motivated me to take the two minutes to write a message. The constant reminder of seeing the card motivated me to make it happen. Then I just threw it in the envelope and in my mailbox, and was done. Plus the card quality was really nice, felt artisan. Would definitely recommend.”
The sort you’d have picked yourself
These are not boxed-assortment cards. They are 5 × 7 on heavy stock, blank inside, bought six to a design from small publishers and independent studios — the rack you stop at in a bookshop or a good card aisle, not a hundred of them in a box.
Five ranges — Postal, Botanical, Classic, Modern, Playful — and we choose within the one you pick to suit each occasion. A card like this gets kept: propped on a shelf for a week, then in a drawer with the others, still there years after the text you would otherwise have sent.
You could just buy a box of cards
You could, and it would cost less. There is nothing here you couldn’t put together yourself, and the people who do it well are doing exactly that.
The rest of us have meant to for years, and not for want of knowing the date. The warning is never two weeks — your phone tells you the day before, when the only option left is a text, because the card needed buying on Tuesday and posting on Wednesday.
Two weeks would not save it either. It still leaves the card, the address, the stamp and the writing, and four jobs on a Tuesday in the middle of everything else is how a card slides to the weekend, and then to never.
A kit on the kitchen table is three of them already done and the fourth one waiting. That is the whole of what you are buying. It costs a few dollars a card more than doing it yourself, and unlike doing it yourself, it happens.
Billed once a year, spent as the dates arrive
Everything is included — the cards, the envelopes, the stamps, and the postage to get them to you. Nothing else to buy, and nothing left to remember.