Getting the mail is not fun for me. I don't get checks. Or packages. Or even nice, hand-written notes. Mostly, I get ads. Sometimes I get letters, but they're often addressed to 'Past Due' or 'Final Notice'. That's not even close to my name. I just throw them out.
Saturday, I trudged out to the mail box, hoping it would hold my Publisher Clearing House notice. Instead, I looked inside and saw this--
|(Yes, that's snow surrounding my mailbox.|
Ever had to make a path for your mailman?
They get very grouchy about having to step in snow. )
I knew right away what it was. I would've done a happy dance right there, 'cept I was standing in two feet of snow.
|It's so deep, you can't see how cute my boots are!|
I didn't even wait till I got inside. I ripped that baby open. I might have squealed a little.
I hurried inside and showed my kids. "Look! It's my friend's book!"
"Really? What friend?"
"Who?? Does she have kids?" (That's the standard for knowing who my friends are- who their kids are.)
"Yes. Danny, Jack, and Joey."
Puzzled faces. "Have we met them?"
"No, they live in Chicago."
"Have you met them?"
"No. They live in Chicago."
"Then how are you friends?"
I went upstairs to show the Handy Man. As soon as he saw it, he said, "Marianne sent you her book?"
"Yes. Thank you." (He gets a little confused about all my blogging friends, but the man comes through in a pinch!)
I opened it up and found it signed- to me! And, this was my happy face--
|(I did not mean to cover the author's names! Oops!|
by-Marianne Walsh and Julie R. Harrison)
-which will be buried in the book for the next day or so. Stay tuned for the review!
(Thanks Marianne! And, be assured that having your address does not mean I'll now be stalking you.)