On a dark and not so foggy night I drove home from yet another motherly duty, or was it work, no wait - church? Who remembers! I'm too old for remembering past my last meal. Any way I do remember it being one of the few minutes of actual peace and quiet I've had in a long time.
As I topped the hill close to home I was greeted by the rows of cedar posts lining manicured lawns. Occasionally the monotony was interrupted by limestone pillars jutting out of the rock we call home. I round the corner to enter the neighborhood and saw the moonlight dancing off the metal of the mailboxes. Is it there? Could it be? My headlights glared off the reflective strips shouting "US POST". I had to stop and check. In the dim light of our eco friendly subdivision. Some rule about preserving the night sky. I put the key in the lock and gave a gentle prayer.
As I turned the key I had to squint in the tight slot where I usually allow mail to collect for rather lengthy periods of time. (So long there are times I have to go o the post office and collect it.) HALLELUJAH!!!! There's a key in the box!!! Who cares about all the other mail. The tag on the key directs me to one of the parcel boxes below. My heart races at the thought that my kit is so close. When I put the key in the slot I squeeze my eyes tight and shout a giant prayer "PLEASE GOD!!!!! WORK THIS TIME!!!!". I am so used to having a kit locked up tight in one of these boxes, but the key not working that I start devising a plan to free it from it's little metal jail. If the key doesn't work I'll just have to get a crow bar, or a blow torch. Maybe one of the neighbor kids can break into it for me. They have strange talents, maybe lock picking is one of them. OH! How about one of the cop neighbors could declare an emergency and get the post master down here to open it. On a side note - have y'all ever thought about how foolish I must look taking pictures of my mail box for you.
I put pressure on the key, twisting it to the right. CLICK, CLICK, CLICK as the tumblers roll inside the locking mechanism. "Thank you Jesus!!!!" I peer into the darkness to see the cavernous volume filled with flat rate boxes. A little ray of light peering back at me. Oh my goodness. What if it's not my kit. What if someone sent something else. What if DH ordered something and I didn't know about it. I can't even look until I get to the car. The boxes were so heavy that I barely could control the weight teetering in my arms as I opened the car door. I placed them on the floor board between the front seats. They seemed to call to me, "check my label", "open me", "three houses down is too far open me right now!". I was so distracted by their calls that I almost had a flat bed for a flower bed. I kept reminding myself that all I had to do was get in the house, up the stairs and I could play to my hearts content.
I got in the door and was promptly greeted with calls for "mom". "Tuck me in", "I need a kiss", "I need a drink". In the middle of my scrap room floor the kits sat - for days - untouched. They sat so long that the taunts started to fade. They had resigned to a life upon the shelf.
Finally a few moments without kids. I snuck upstairs, cradled the kits in my lap, smelled the cardboard, and decided I would take a moment and at least open them. I grasped the tab with my fingers. As I pulled the tab - it broke. OK punishment for waiting so long. The other side worked and I stared into a full box of scrapbooking supplies ready to explode from the box. I pulled at the tab for the second box. It broke. Not funny. Finally it opened. I thought I was going to have to shout at the box to get it to work. Beautiful sight. All those little plastic bags containing what is to be a scrapping madness
After careful removal of all my scrapping happiness from their little packages. Each item was placed in the official scrapping kit tub. Ready for Spring Survival to start. Bring it on Homegrown!!!
PS - I'm 2 weeks behind already on the program, but the election is Saturday and I'll have a life again after that. Scrapping away!!!