Christmas mail

Over the next 72 hours, the Cascade snow-pack will jump from zero to 3-4 feet of accumulation. That's pretty astonishing, if you stop and think about it.  The east slopes of the Cascades are under a winter storm alert, including Twisp, where they might get a foot of snow, maybe enough to close the schools. I imagine a couple of excited little girls today. In Seattle, even 6 inches paralyzes the city. But so far, just rain for us down here in the lowlands.

I'm slowly getting things ticked off my Christmas to-do list. I went to our local post office yesterday to mail cards and a package. Looking around at that chaotic scene, it seemed like a miracle that the USPS still manages to get most things where they need to go. At least, I hope so.

I was waiting in the long line, and a postal employee rushed up with a hand-held credit card machine and processed my priority mail box on the spot. She shoved a receipt at me, then left the package on the counter, with the trays and trays of Christmas cards people were dropping off.  I suppose that's what passes for good service these days, but it didn't leave me with a warm fuzzy feeling. Marji, I hope it arrives in once piece this time.

Christmas boxes were once a big part of our lives, both the sending and receiving.  Now I miss both of our mom's wonderful packages, sent every year.  Like so many things, at the time we took them more or less for granted.

Mom loved Christmas, and started shopping in August.  Every little gift was wrapped with a special note attached.  John's mom Wilda liked baking, so her packages were full of goodies and always decorated oatmeal boxes filled with pizzelles.  We never told her of course, but they were usually broken in pieces. John didn't care and ate every crumb, because she put extra anise (ugh) flavoring in his batch.

But I have to say, my all-time favorite Christmas package was the one Amanda sent from Grenada when she was in the Peace Corps.  We missed her terribly that first Christmas, and it was thrilling when her battered little package arrived.

Grenada is the "Spice Island," and she sent a souvenir spice basket, a tree ornament and some other little things I can't remember. But I'll never forget the totally exotic, lovely smell from that unusual combination of spices when we first opened the box. I'd never smelled anything quite like that before or since.  It just shouted: Grenada!