I'm sure I've shared this before but humor me once more. Please? I still laugh when I see this birthday card. It's from Randall. I have an old cartoon from The Far Side of a student at a school for the gifted. A boy with books under an arm leans into a door, pushing for all he's worth. There's a sign on the door that says Pull to Open. I kept the drawing all these years because it depicts how I am sometimes. This card . . . This card reminds me that IQ isn't everything. And it reminds me to laugh at myself no matter what.
Dear Randall, I held the card in my right hand and stuck my left index finger inside the hole. Hmm. I tried my thumb. Don't even ask yourself why. JC just watched, shook his head, and walked off after I let him look inside. Still laughing. Thank you for a super birthday card. It just keeps on giving. No, I will not reveal the answer to my true nature.
I never got around to writing about braiding garlic from my garden. Yes, I have pen friends who enjoying gardening as much as I do, and yes, we write of such things. All that garlic is gone now.
"There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure. But I don't know any of them." This was meant for someone who enjoys baths. I could not bring myself to rip it from the pages it nestled within. Dear bather, this one's for you. I couldn't put it in a letter.
I want to share my feelings about this gem in another post, but I could not let this chance to share it slip past again. It is a mazing what lines can do. This affirms my belief that we often share more of ourselves through letters than we do in person. People who lean in close hear you better than if you'd shouted. I will keep this card forever.
My second cardinal of the year! Thank you, Anna.
More boxes of letters trying to raise the roof.
A mail trolley. Still filled with mail.
Yes, the same boxed letters.
You got it. Hail to the mail!
Guess who wrote another single letter? They're like single women . . . Ba-da-boom!
This scene caught my eye when I glanced down from my ivied tower. White flowers, a white trellis, grapes, and a white ball. Forget the screen that's between.
Guess what. Whatever it is has a tail bone.
Parts. I will need help matching them.
Letters without envelopes are like doctors without borders. They do a world of good. I got one today. And a non-UPS package, the dino parts. First there was the package of dinosaur parts. I didn't answer the door bell then because I didn't feel like getting up from my chair. The second time I did, and there lay the letter. I think Fatima is my first declared BFF. I know that Alex and I go way back as BFFs. He told me so before he was old enough to come next door for a visit. He's seven now, and I feel like an old dinosaur that Alex thinks is twenty-one. Bless his heart. I rue the day he learns to match age with looks.
I bought boxes of the darlings last year. I "planted" a skeleton in an empty flower pot on the front stoop and had Alex dig to check on seeds I'd planted. He got a kick out of his first dig. Okay, so did I. We're gonna get pith helmets soon. Then we're gonna . . . Dig some more? Maybe. But he and Fatima are writing letters to their family in Mexico. Alex has already written a thank-you note to England, thanks to Anna, and they've written to Erin. Their first trip to Mexico taught them they have much in common with cousins their age, so you know I suggested keeping in touch my mail. (Patting myself on the back while typing with one hand. Oh my.) Write on children! Write on.
Wait. No wonder I can't get anywhere. I can't see where I'm going. (grin)