My sister was an excellent hostess. She gave us a tour of her shop. It's the candle-making shop, the wooden-puzzle-creating shop, the cork-trivet-producing shop, the place where she works on all sorts of creative projects! "I'll give you some of these candles to take home with you," she said.
We also got a tour of the local sights--the marinas with boats from around the world. The dear deer.
We got to see the beautiful marshes and pretty little beaches of Middlesex County, Virginia.
When we left for home, The Yard Man and I carried these scenes with us (in our minds' eyes, yes).
And in the back seat of the car, my sister's coat quietly made the journey north, too.
But no candles.**
A WEEK AGO (or possibly two),
the United States Postal Service transported two packages (and possibly more).
One of them left my house, destined for Middlesex County, Virginia, and carrying a coat.
The other arrived quite unexpectedly at my door!
"Here are your candles" said the scribbled note from my sis, "and your trick-or-treat candies.***"
...*(Back in the years when Shishe and I slept together in a bedroom with a built-in bed, Ike and Mamie lived in the White House. At the same time, another Ike was my father's right-hand man in his plumbing business. I'll bet you couldn't guess, Reader Dear, his full name [and that of his wife])
** (We both forgot.)
***"I just went and bought the cheapest candy I could find," said my sis. "We never get any trick-or-treaters!"