It was about this time of the year in the mid 80's. I was at the Abilene WalMart while the boys were at preschool. I found myself beside a stack of cute country blue kitchen rugs. Ten bucks each.
I looked up and saw my friend Sandra Jane admiring the same thing. We chatted for a while as each of us had our hand on the rug. I don't know who started it, but the conversation progressed something like this.
"Aren't these cute?"
"Adorable!"
"It would match my kitchen colors perfectly."
"Mine, too."
(It would match every kitchen in Texas perfectly in 1980. Who didn't have a country blue theme?)
"I shouldn't be spending money on myself at Christmas."
"Me either...but I'd spend ten dollars to buy one for you."
"And I'd buy one for you!"
And so began the tradition of getting ourselves something for Christmas.
After we moved to the Dallas area in 1990, we weren't able to select our gifts together, so we just chose something and told the other one about it. No price limit, so the gifts have ranged from books to warm up suits. We don't plan for it, but every year we'd find ourselves out shopping and run across something we really would like to have, and think, "I shouldn't get this for myself" and then that little Christmas angel whispers...
"but Sandra Jane/Carolyn would love to get it for you!"
A few days ago, I received this thank you note. The thank you notes are almost as fun as the gifts.
Carolyn,
Please don't. You really shouldn't. I'm weary of pleading with you not to, but if you insist, I'll absolutely love to accept the darling black t-shirt with rhinestones so tastefully outlining a coffee cup and saucer and the words "Wake Up And Smell The Coffee" that's screaming my name at Cracker Barrel. It's a perfect Christmas gift from you and I will love wearing it! Have you received my Christmas gift to you yet?????
(I love you so much).
Happy Holidays, Sandra Jane
I replied,
I knew it was so you when you saw it! The mail is slow in Florida. I'm sure it will be here soon. love you!
Well, the package arrived last night at the Don CeSar resort gift shop. Our kids are here (wooooooooo-whoooooooooo!), so the girls and I were browsing while we were waiting for our table. My eyes went straight to a beautiful Brighton silver pen with a well.
Kyla and Terran ooooooed and ahhhhhhhhed appropriately. "That would be perfect for our guest book on the entry table."
They agreed.
"Forty dollars is a lot to spend on a pen..."
I put it back on the shelf and said, "I shouldn't spend that much on myself so close to Christmas..."
And then it hit me. Sandra Jane would love for me to have it!
I made a u-turn and headed to the register.
"Is this for you or is it a gift?" the clerk asked.
"Yes it is." I replied. She loved hearing the story. I made the guilt free purchase and went on my way rejoicing!
Dearest Sandra Jane, I am speechless! The fact that you took the time to select such a thoughtful gift means more to me than you'll ever know. The silver Brighton pen and well will be a beautiful reminder of our friendship. Through the years you have been my role model as a hostess and a writer, so it has an even sweeter meaning. I love you dearly! carolyn
HO! HO! HO!
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Just a Note...
How many times have you written or received a card with that little phrase at the beginning?
I am (still) going through boxes. Random receipts, photos, and a gallon freezer zip lock bag of cards were in the most recent box. This particular group of notes shared our prayer that we would use our new house on Denali as a way to bless others. Some were birthday cards for Drew and me that coincided with our move. Some were Swankie Blankie thank you notes.
Maybe it's the southern etiquette upbringing, but Mother instilled in Linda and me from the beginning that thank you notes were not optional. I witnessed the frowns and scowls from older women at baby showers who murmured, "I still haven't received a thank you note for her wedding gift...". Writing came naturally and was actually fun for me and I prided myself on getting my notes written in a timely manner.
Somehow, I forgot to pass that joy on to Drew and the boys. It was usually a chore. At the risk of totally throwing the boys under the article-bus, I'll let you guess which one I'm writing about. Frankly, both of them claimed handwriting disabilities and tried to get out of it.
Ask McSon about the night before he left for ACU. I had let some birthday thank yous slide. I usually included all three guys' family Christmas thank yous in with mine. When I suggested to Drew that he might want to write a personal note, he gave me the 'that's why I married you' look and I counted myself lucky to add his signature.
But I drew the line at high school graduation gifts. "You will not be allowed to leave for college until you get those notes written!", I promised. I reminded him on the way home from Sr. Sunday. He was too busy adding up his gift cards. I mentioned it throughout the summer and it was met with the best intentions to get them done as soon as he got back from camp, Trek, Kadesh, and the bathroom.
Sure enough, the night before the big day arrived. "I'll do them tonight, I promise." Then somebody called for one last goodbye, and he was out the door. Fast fwd to 2am. I'm sitting on the couch with his laundry that has yet to be packed. He walks in the door, wired and exhausted. I'm waving a stack on envelopes and a roll of stamps.
"Mom, I am SO TIRED!"
"I know you are. You're probably really sorry you put these notes off until the last minute."
"I'll do them in the mor..."
I jumped up on the couch and screamed, "NOW! YOU'LL DO THEM NOW! These sweet people went to the trouble of picking out a gift and getting it to you and as my last act of having you under our roof, I am sitting here with you until every last one is written!" It was like a bad Hallmark commercial.
And there we sat, while I read from the gift list and addressed the envelopes, until all 75 notes were written. By him. To this day, some of my favorite thank you notes come from high school senior boys with scratchy handwriting who obviously wrote them under durress.
I get it.
This wasn't the blog I intended to write. I was just going to reiterate the importance of written notes. Not just thank you notes, but 'how are you' notes and 'wasn't that fun' notes and 'your friendship is precious' notes.
It's the gift that keeps on giving when you are like me and Mildred James who've saved every single one we've ever received! We read them again and again, and then put some of them in a box with random receipts and photos until years later when we're cleaning out a closet only to find the box, sit for an hour and read them all over...again.
Fortunately, the boys married wonderful girls who write the most precious notes, and somehow got the boys to not only sign, but write their own precious notes on birthday, Father's Day, Mother's Day and 'just because' cards. I've saved every single one. I have a feeling there was no screaming or couch jumping involved.
Just a note? There's no such thing.
I am (still) going through boxes. Random receipts, photos, and a gallon freezer zip lock bag of cards were in the most recent box. This particular group of notes shared our prayer that we would use our new house on Denali as a way to bless others. Some were birthday cards for Drew and me that coincided with our move. Some were Swankie Blankie thank you notes.
Maybe it's the southern etiquette upbringing, but Mother instilled in Linda and me from the beginning that thank you notes were not optional. I witnessed the frowns and scowls from older women at baby showers who murmured, "I still haven't received a thank you note for her wedding gift...". Writing came naturally and was actually fun for me and I prided myself on getting my notes written in a timely manner.
Somehow, I forgot to pass that joy on to Drew and the boys. It was usually a chore. At the risk of totally throwing the boys under the article-bus, I'll let you guess which one I'm writing about. Frankly, both of them claimed handwriting disabilities and tried to get out of it.
Ask McSon about the night before he left for ACU. I had let some birthday thank yous slide. I usually included all three guys' family Christmas thank yous in with mine. When I suggested to Drew that he might want to write a personal note, he gave me the 'that's why I married you' look and I counted myself lucky to add his signature.
But I drew the line at high school graduation gifts. "You will not be allowed to leave for college until you get those notes written!", I promised. I reminded him on the way home from Sr. Sunday. He was too busy adding up his gift cards. I mentioned it throughout the summer and it was met with the best intentions to get them done as soon as he got back from camp, Trek, Kadesh, and the bathroom.
Sure enough, the night before the big day arrived. "I'll do them tonight, I promise." Then somebody called for one last goodbye, and he was out the door. Fast fwd to 2am. I'm sitting on the couch with his laundry that has yet to be packed. He walks in the door, wired and exhausted. I'm waving a stack on envelopes and a roll of stamps.
"Mom, I am SO TIRED!"
"I know you are. You're probably really sorry you put these notes off until the last minute."
"I'll do them in the mor..."
I jumped up on the couch and screamed, "NOW! YOU'LL DO THEM NOW! These sweet people went to the trouble of picking out a gift and getting it to you and as my last act of having you under our roof, I am sitting here with you until every last one is written!" It was like a bad Hallmark commercial.
And there we sat, while I read from the gift list and addressed the envelopes, until all 75 notes were written. By him. To this day, some of my favorite thank you notes come from high school senior boys with scratchy handwriting who obviously wrote them under durress.
I get it.
This wasn't the blog I intended to write. I was just going to reiterate the importance of written notes. Not just thank you notes, but 'how are you' notes and 'wasn't that fun' notes and 'your friendship is precious' notes.
It's the gift that keeps on giving when you are like me and Mildred James who've saved every single one we've ever received! We read them again and again, and then put some of them in a box with random receipts and photos until years later when we're cleaning out a closet only to find the box, sit for an hour and read them all over...again.
Fortunately, the boys married wonderful girls who write the most precious notes, and somehow got the boys to not only sign, but write their own precious notes on birthday, Father's Day, Mother's Day and 'just because' cards. I've saved every single one. I have a feeling there was no screaming or couch jumping involved.
Just a note? There's no such thing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)