…I Can’t Stand Not to One More Minute
As an adult, I have a weird relationship with packages, both mailed and personally delivered. I don’t open them right away, even if they contain something I ordered myself. I know it drives peeps crazy (hey, hubs!), but I like to savor the mystery of a wrapped box, gift bag, or envelope, sort of recreate the magic of childhood Christmases in a mortgage-paying-Hamburger-Helper-coffee-fell-on-my head world.
I also adore real mail, because it’s become so rare. I’m old enough to remember writing tons and tons of love letters back in the day to the object(s) of my affection, and sending them via the rapidly becoming extinct U.S. Postal Service. Long distance phone calls cost a fortune, and there was no Internet, or email, or even computers at your house. If your love was not near you, you pined away and wrote about pining away on real paper with a felt tip pen to match your mood, in that perfect Palmer penmanship that was drilled into you in fourth grade.
I let the suspense build, until last night when I was chatting via email with Megan, and it hit me: what if someone mailed me FOOD? Uh-oh. I vowed to stop circling the real mail like it was do-not-open-until-Christmas, and dived in.
Or would have dived in if some people didn’t tape things shut so well that I bet they could make waterproof shoes out of packaging tape. I would have panicked ‘cept I knew that one was a swap package, and the odds were high no food was in it, or the Corgi would have gnawed through it by now, even if it took her three days.
You guys, it was so better than childhood Christmas, so delightfully surprising and fun! Sheila sent me a real live thank-you note. Ally sent real live stationary and the wonderful Henri Mendel compact I won
, plus real live cards with pictures of her gorgeous gams on them, which I am so hanging in my office. Patricia sent a lovely long purple dress, and Charmaine sent a super swirly polka dot skirt. And Gracey, who dresses for work so wonderfully originally and stunningly, sent me two dresses that fit perfectly, and
a square horse scarf:
Gracey said I could give the horse scarf to my sis (the professional equestrian) but since my sis nearly fell out of a chair laughing at one of my posts, where admittedly I was taking bright blue a bit too far, and called me “Smurfette,” she’ll just have to look at this scarf on the blog. Plus, I need its mustard background to remain hip and cool this season. Yep.
You guys will never know how often you make a hard day better, with your posts, your photos, your comments, your emails, and sometimes, your magical surprise packages. I’m smiling now, and feeling blessed to be part of an online community comprised of the kindest, wittiest, and most beautiful fashionistas and friends ever.