Solstice greetings
8:42 p.m.
All the end-of-year letters are mailed. I totally eschewed greeting cards and just printed them on plain white paper and sent them off in No. 10 envelopes with printed address labels. Talk about lacking holiday spirit. Maybe next year.
I needed to buy postage, so we went to the post office (My what a novel idea, buying postage at a post office, what will they think of next!), and my lovely children, about whom I boast entirely too much, who happened to be accompanying me on this jaunt for reasons you will read later, asked, “Why are we going here? Why not to the pharmacy?” to which I replied at length about how when the postal counter at the pharmacy had opened, there was an attempt to close down the post office and the townspeople had signed petitions to keep it open, as we felt that part of the character of our town would be lost if it were removed, and also “because the man behind the counter always flirts with me.” Which he did, shamelessly. My son was scandalized.
Then we hit the grocery store where Little Princess acquired the necessary (or some of the necessary) ingredients for the pasta salad she was bringing to the holiday potluck supper her band was holding (she even made a beaded bracelet for Ed, who likes that kind of thing), and Buddy Boy acquired the ingredients necessary to the making of the cookies which are to be his presents for Brumalia. Speaking of which, the DVD’s I ordered for Hubby still have not arrived, and if they do not arrive tomorrow, there will be a paucity of presents for my darling under the tree on Monday. When I say a paucity, I really mean a dearth. This is not a good thing.
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