Care packages
Another care package arrived today from my parents. They have been very good about sending me little trinkets in the mail ever since I moved out of the LA area. So I guess I shouldn't mock their generosity - this literally would be a case of looking a gift horse in the mouth.
And yet.
I'm only human, people! What would you do if presented with a shower squeegee in the mail? Particularly if you have never, in your life, expressed an interest in having or using one? What about sample hand creams that you distinctly remember your mom telling you she'd won at a raffle? A Pillsbury cookbook from November 1995? And I'll try not to take the "Fast and Helpful Household Hints" book personally, particularly as I have recently gone through a spell of possibly eating or drinking rotten food products.
(Pop quiz: You have just made pasta and poured the sauce directly out of the jar onto your dinner. It is only then that you happen to notice a very large green spore growing out of the pasta sauce jar's lid. You're *pretty* certain that the sauce you're eating hadn't touched the lid. Do you a) shrug, "You only live once," toss your head back, and eat the pasta anyways? b) immediately dump the pasta down the drain and wash your hands compulsively, unable to get clean? or c) start making phone calls and poll any friend or loved one unfortunate enough to have answered the phone as to what they would do in your situation?)
(Okay okay. If you were me, you would have started insouciantly off with a. But then, a few bites in, paranoia would set in and you'd jump to c. After having gotten a mixed bag of responses, you decide that a night in ER really isn't worth the twenty-seven cents or whatever the pasta actually cost you, so you end up doing b.)
Back to the care packages. My sister has the best story about them. While packing up her stuff after one weekend visit during her college days, she accidentally left a shoe behind. This was more like a construction boot - it was a fairly good-sized shoe. It was during California's short rainy season, so my mom says, "Honey, you're going to need that before you come back to visit again, so let me mail it to you." My sister takes her up on that offer. A few days later, a bulky package arrives in the mail. BeachBunny opens it up to see one construction shoe nestling in a huge pile of newspapers. She pulls out the shoe, only to find it's mysteriously crammed full with something. She investigates further to find that mom has put one of those HUGE Asian pears - you know, the kind that are like the size of a grapefruit on steroids? - inside the shoe. Not wrapped up in anything, mind you - just tucked away in the shoe. No note of explanation is included, leaving BeachBunny to sit there, wondering, "The hell?"
And yet.
I'm only human, people! What would you do if presented with a shower squeegee in the mail? Particularly if you have never, in your life, expressed an interest in having or using one? What about sample hand creams that you distinctly remember your mom telling you she'd won at a raffle? A Pillsbury cookbook from November 1995? And I'll try not to take the "Fast and Helpful Household Hints" book personally, particularly as I have recently gone through a spell of possibly eating or drinking rotten food products.
(Pop quiz: You have just made pasta and poured the sauce directly out of the jar onto your dinner. It is only then that you happen to notice a very large green spore growing out of the pasta sauce jar's lid. You're *pretty* certain that the sauce you're eating hadn't touched the lid. Do you a) shrug, "You only live once," toss your head back, and eat the pasta anyways? b) immediately dump the pasta down the drain and wash your hands compulsively, unable to get clean? or c) start making phone calls and poll any friend or loved one unfortunate enough to have answered the phone as to what they would do in your situation?)
(Okay okay. If you were me, you would have started insouciantly off with a. But then, a few bites in, paranoia would set in and you'd jump to c. After having gotten a mixed bag of responses, you decide that a night in ER really isn't worth the twenty-seven cents or whatever the pasta actually cost you, so you end up doing b.)
Back to the care packages. My sister has the best story about them. While packing up her stuff after one weekend visit during her college days, she accidentally left a shoe behind. This was more like a construction boot - it was a fairly good-sized shoe. It was during California's short rainy season, so my mom says, "Honey, you're going to need that before you come back to visit again, so let me mail it to you." My sister takes her up on that offer. A few days later, a bulky package arrives in the mail. BeachBunny opens it up to see one construction shoe nestling in a huge pile of newspapers. She pulls out the shoe, only to find it's mysteriously crammed full with something. She investigates further to find that mom has put one of those HUGE Asian pears - you know, the kind that are like the size of a grapefruit on steroids? - inside the shoe. Not wrapped up in anything, mind you - just tucked away in the shoe. No note of explanation is included, leaving BeachBunny to sit there, wondering, "The hell?"
posted by Her Ladyship @ 1:42 PM
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