organized chaos

Usually care packages are reserved for kids away from home. My Man is an only child and his parents have never really accepted that he is a grown man and since they live two states away, technically he is a kid away from home.

So we’ve always received care packages full of goodies the likes you’ve never seen. I thought you’d like to share in the bi-monthly excitement that is “The Box From Grandma Diana.” But a disclaimer from My Man: We don’t ask for the box. We never have. It’s a free will offering that only a mother can provide, lest you think him a spoiled child. Which he is not.

Join me.

First we have the usual shipment of office supplies. As you all know, I need these desperately. Sometimes I ask for specific things like three ring binders, but mostly she just has closets full of this stuff and it’s luck of the draw. That glue stick in the front? It’s about as thick as the fat end of a carrot. I’m still not sure what I’ll use it for. Maybe I can glue Jackelope to his chair at dinner so he’ll stop getting up and performing Jedi moves all helter skelter in the middle of devotions.

I can’t remember the last time I bought toothpaste. It’s one of her favorite things to send. And heck, I’m not picky, so it works out fine. Unless it’s sandpaper flavor. I’ve found that to be a bit–grating.

Oh, and that allergy medicine is supposed to be for My Man who sneezes 15 times in a row at times, but according to him, medicines are all placebos. That actually might come from the fact that his parents still buy their medicines across the river (Rio Grande River) and use out of date penicillin for colds and viruses. I’ve told them it’s not really effective for that, but you can’t buck tradition.

And The Box would not be The Box without the necessary snackage for the gremlins. She also thinks I use a lot of splenda because there was this one time when I did, but I’m out of that phase now. I just didn’t have the heart to tell her, so I keep getting sandwich baggies filled with splenda packets. And coffee mate that My Man and I would rather gag than use in our coffee. I’m all about the coconut cream people. Don’t judge me.

Then there’s my special sack inside the big box. The photo’s a bit blurred from my excitement over all that loot. Usually I get beef jerky, a special notepad just for me, some cash!, and a pain reliever of some sort to rid the gremlin induced headache. And apparently The Cuteness does not get his own sack yet, because all his baby junk was in my sack also. It was a bit of a let down, to say the least, when I opened my goody sack and pulled out baby plates and cutlery. But again–I got cash, so I’ll stop my moaning. And that blue comb?

Who knows where she found this jewel, but do you guys know I have always wanted a fancy blue comb with my very own name on it? Well I have! Don’t judge me.

Now here’s where I broke the rules a little.

This is officially Charlie’s bag o’ goodies, but I peeked in to give you nice folks the first look and the vast difference between the golden boy’s goody bag and my own. Notice the George Strait CD circa 1980’s. I think the puffy vinyl coat gives it away. And yes, Charlie was very excited about this goody. What a nerd. He also got some cool pencil leads and a Coleman watch for all his OCD treks out to the backyard.

And then there’s his second goody bag.

Now, I’m not much for chocolate. I’m weird like that. But she could of sent me a big bag of avocados or nachos supreme. I suppose that would get messy. Even so.

Ten chocolate bars for mom’s little sweetie. I think I’m tearing up. With tears. Actually I might need some of that pain reliever now that I think of it. For the throbbing headache of injustice.

Still. I’m grateful for the cash. Did I mention that? I am.