Fan Mail

I received a package in the mail the other day. What joy and jubilation and felt. I was like a kid at Christmas. I have always believed it is more blessed to receive. I just love presents. Something happens when you have children. The gifts suddenly switch from your name to your children's names. Gone are days of fine gloves, silver chains, food processors, and gaudy watches. Hello to pom pom mittens, cowboy ropes, gummy candies, and still gaudy watches -- but with Batman and Hello Kitty. Well, no siree. This package was for me! It had my name on it and looked very official. I was elated, thrilled, almost even peed my pants. So I tore it open with no regard to the labels or packaging. And this is what lay beneath the wrapping.Donna Lawrence? Donna Lawrence? Was it shoes? Oh new red pumps! No no...it was leopard print sandals. Oh I know! Cashmere socks -- maybe a belt. I could not wait another moment. What did my faithful blog reader get me?
I could not have been more wrong. It was better than socks, belts, or even...yes, I am going to say it...better than shoes. It was a token of love from back on the farm in Southern Indiana. It was a little piece of heaven.



My boys immediately came to investigate? "What is it?" my baby inquires. "M R poop!" says my wise oldest boy.
"M R not!" shoots back my baby."O S it is. Smell em."

"L I B. M R poop!"
Silly city boys! How can you not know? Oh, I sat and smelled for hours. Closed my eyes and took myself back to heaven...I mean Indiana. Thanks Aunt B. You are the best!