Getting Mail

We are talking real mail here, not email or texts.  

I mean pens and markers and pencils.  Different tools for different purposes. The grandkids get colorful postcards and note cards written in whatever ink strikes my fancy.  I used to keep my calligraphy supplies (a much loved but short lived hobby) in a drawer.  Now they are in the cups I've repurposed as desk accessories.  

I have a drawer full of stationary

and a collection of forever stamps 

bought just before the last price increase  (and whatever happened to our outrage about Mr. DeJoy?).

Little Cuter's colleagues sent Notre Dame swag for the Prince scholars' Colleges in Classrooms project.  I composed a generic, typed letter of thanks.  Along with two of these tiny magnets of the scholars at work and play,

 I sent each donor a personal note, on GRIN stationary accumulated over the last 12 years. 

One recipient sent Little Cuter a picture of her packet with the caption Day Made.

All too often it's flyers and solicitations and bills in the mail (I have a tendency to forget about emailed bills).  But every once in a while there's an envelope addressed to Grandma and Grandpa, or a postcard of a naked lady from someone related to Daddoooooo, who was on a lifelong mission to see what the USPS would consider pornography.  Those kinds of things tend to live on the kitchen island for a while, reminding me that we are loved.