Thursday, December 24, 2009


There is something special about a box coming in the mail. Maybe that is why so many people order from places like QVC and HSN as well as buy on the Internet. I use it because there are things I can think about which in all the tramping in Fargo, I simply would not find.

There is no one up man ship in gifting as far as I am concerned yet, for some families it becomes a spiral up or down to buy the biggest and best. With tree children and a grand daughter, there is a rotation of who gets the big gift that year. It is daughter's turn this year, and since she has already opened her gifts, I am hopeful she likes the Kindle and has time to read. It is something I remember of her, especially at Christmas as she lay under the tree reading by a 7.5 white Christmas bulb.

Packing boxes for shipment generally works very well, unless, of course, the items you want don't fit in the boxes. That is a wonderful reason for Tom, he makes boxes. And so, even though that umbrella is too big to use, it is a Monet pattern and did arrive in California without damage.

One year we sent a box to our home town. The post office called the people and said they had a lot of stuff that might be theirs. The box was broken and the stuff scattered. Yet, Kudos to the post office for their priority boxes and quick delivery. The priority boxes allow us to ship from the house. Yet, I still sit on a needle waiting for the boxes to arrive.

I was telling Lisa recently about how her grandmother used to send a box to us. Nothing was wrapped Everything was non breakable, non perishable. Small notes were attached to each gift with a common pin. It was the oooo and aaaaa box. The picture above shows Rachel, Bud, and Ryen ripping into the cherry chocolates. There are others where we all have our hands on the box but the pictures are not good enough to publish, although good enough to be part of the family albums. Sweet memories of the box and the lady that sent them.

Christmas Eve for Tom and I will be quiet. Although we are both grandparents, there will be no little people waiting for the clock to be turned to 7P so they can open gifts. The sound of rattling paper will be minimal; for years I have suggested one gift, we are there! Finally.

Tom is always concerned that what ever he chooses as a gift for me might not be a good one. One shouldn't say Bullshit and Christmas in the same sentence but I did. I know that what he felt was the right gift, IS the right gift. It is, after all, symbolic of the greatest gift to each of us.

Peace to you.


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