One of the charms of the house that I live in is the mail slot in the front door. So around 11:30 each morning, if I’m hard at work at my desk, concentrating diligently on whatever particular diversion I’ve chosen for the day, the mailman can scare the living crap out of me when he flips open the squeaky metal flap and drops the mail through. The first time I saw the mail slot I smiled, the first time the mailman used it I nearly jumped out of my skin, and now, nearly three months later, I’m beginning to wonder when my scare tolerance will begin to build up. But I’m getting better.
Like yesterday. I don’t think I jumped at all when the slot suddenly squeaked and in dropped one lone envelope. Nearly all of my mail has that familiar bill-shape, but this one looked different. Smaller, more square, more card-like then bill-like, so I headed right over and picked it up.
I’m not sure what takes me more by surprise - my age or some of the things that come along with it. Who could possibly anticipate that their one and only valentine (yes, one single valentine!) would drop through a mail slot in Oregon from someone they’d never even met from the far off land of ice and snow and 10,000 lakes. That same someone, it turns out, that I’d encountered while “researching” the whole blog concept and was trying to decide whether or not this was something I wanted to do. The same someone who I saw made the blog experience a personal one, and not just a collection of rehashed news articles and opinions.
Jodi, Jodi, Jodi! Thank you for the valentine! What a nice surprise!
If I was in Minnesota right now, I’d sweep you out the door and off to dinner. Well, depending on the weather and the time of day. Maybe I’d just shovel the walk and ask you to lunch. My only dilemma would be whether I would reciprocate your kindness and thoughtfulness with a bouquet of roses or or bouquet of books? Roses are nice, but books smell great for centuries. Wait, do they even arrange book bouquets? Well, if they don’t, they should.