Although I, personally, have not met him, I just want to take a minute to say, Mr. Postman, thank you. Thank you for all that you do. Thank you for your dedication to opening (and sometimes) closing my mailbox on a daily basis. Thank you for so graciously exiting the warmth of your atypical mail car, the one that looks like a regular SUV except for the flip flopped driver/passenger seats and the little flashing light on it's hood, to HAND deliver an oversized package to my stoop steps. Your gentleness and careful placement of the taped up cube of cardboard is unmatched. Thank you for honoring the "Please Do NOT Ring the Bell, Baby Sleeping" sign on our door trim. Although, on this day, at this time, even with an actual baby sleeping in her crib, it would have been ok to ring my bell. You see, I've been waiting for you. Not for you, specifically, but for the gifts you bring. Although technically, not a gift per definition, today's delivery....
My heart is beating out of it's cave. All the blood in my body floats anxiously behind my eyes as the strips of sticky tape fly off the box. Flap one, open. Flap two, open. I felt like Charlie on Willy Wonka's Chocolate factory, about to win the golden ticket.
(Insert angelic music with trumpets and flutes pitched high)
Here's a small sample of the luscious fabrics I recently acquired.
What shall become of them you ask? Dresses? Ruffled Pants? A-line dresses with bloomers? Baby gifts? Applique tee's with matching flip skirts? Curtains? Throw Pillows? Yes. Yes. and Yes.