Tomorrow morning - or afternoon depending on when Uncle David gets to stirring -- this is what you'll hear at 14 Hamlin Road once the colored paper starts flying:
"Oooooh. That's from Ledgewood Drive.
"Oh! I love that paper."
"Ugh. Someone taped to the box."
"It's the box wrapped like on TV!"
"Did I really get a box of cigars?"
There's a stash of Christmas paper in the basement that reaches back to the last millenium, and I'm certain some of the ribbon may be pre-World War one. There are boxes from department stores only the oldest of us remember being open, along with boxes that once held baby clothes and toys.
And now the entry that may win the award for best use of old paper:
That's five different remnants, at least one from days before I joined Team Reed. The ribbons are what was left over on the gift-wrapping table. Don't know what the box originally held. It could be anything from Amazonian treasure to duck calls. Only the tape is new.
I almost don't want to open it.
As Gary says, "The former Mrs. Reed would be proud."
In other Postcards from Maine, which is uncharacteristically raining and less-than-frigid, Alison added a twist to our annual cookie factory at Auntie Jen's. Can't spill the beans, but Jen is in on it. I won't tell anyone that she demanded a full share even after sampling the goods...
We've visited the breakfast place where I have banana walnut pancakes every year and Gary has his small omelette and Ali plays Jenga with the jelly. We're a few hours away from visiting with the Chinese buffet folks. Traditions are being checked off right and left.
Here's another: Merry Christmas everyone. Happy New Year, too!