Sunday
May102009
Something amazing has happened.
Sunday, May 10, 2009 at 10:19AM
In case you're wondering if this post will eventually devolve into levity and goofiness, the answer is yes. But before we reach that point, permit me a departure into something that happened to me yesterday that brought tears to my eyes. (The Yarnista regularly alternates between laughing and crying, it's a character flaw.)
A box arrived.
This is not in and of itself remarkable -- boxes arrive at the studio almost daily. This box, though, was small, rectangular, and thin -- the type you might ship a hardcover bestseller in, not yarn or dyes or the myriad other items that we have delivered. Noteworthy, too, was the return address. A local friend and customer, she was usually on the receiving end of yarny packages from me, not I from her.
I tore open the box, doing the mental calculus about what could be contained inside. "I suppose she could fit some yarn in here if she really squished," I thought, "But why would she be sending me yarn?"
Inside the box were several small packages, all neatly wrapped with ribbons, and a card addressed to me. My mind was aflurry -- the package did arrive right before my birthday. "Chocolate, I bet it's chocolate!" I thought.
And I was right.
Next came my second great love: a sweet little card:
Containing the key to obtaining the nectar of the gods:
Someday my obituary will describe my death by chocolate and coffee. I hope.
And in an homage to these loves, an adorable set of sticky notes. I use sticky notes as prolifically as I consume chocolate -- how did she know this?
I will remember where these came from each time I reach for one.
I could've gone to bed a happy woman. My fundamental needs had all been met -- food, drink, something beautiful, and a friend who cared.
But there was more.
A small booklet and an envelope sealed with a dot.
Inside, an incredible gift, not only because of the care and thought that so obviously went in to picking it out (favorites were even highlighted), but because the gift requires me to do what I often forget to do, the thing I need the most: take some time to breathe, to relax, to refrain from checking my emails, to let someone else cook dinner and wipe the counters, to know that the packages, the yarn, the customers, the friends will still be there in a few hours time, and that I will be a better person for having done something for myself.
This ticket to paradise (and that's what it sounds like to me) was sent by an incredible group of customers. The last thing I opened was the card, and within three seconds I was tearing up and calling my husband at his work to tell him about this amazing thing that had happened to me.
It wasn't just the gift. For the gift, I am profoundly grateful. But it was also for the kindness and loyalty and good humor that accompanied the gift. Those are things I value so highly.
The card looked like this:
Inside, was a list of people near and dear to my heart. Also inside was a message that I intend to keep forever. (I have distorted the list of names on the left to protect my friends' privacy.)
The card -- and here is where this post begins to devolve -- was signed "Sheepnuts." Now, the Yarnista was no longer alternating between laughing and crying, she was doing them both simultaneously. My trusty assistant Michelle tentatively asked if everything was OK. She didn't sound like she believed me when I answered, "Yes, everything is great. Something amazing just happened."
Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. Both the incredible gift -- and your friendship -- means so much to me.
XOXOXO
-- Yarnista
A box arrived.
This is not in and of itself remarkable -- boxes arrive at the studio almost daily. This box, though, was small, rectangular, and thin -- the type you might ship a hardcover bestseller in, not yarn or dyes or the myriad other items that we have delivered. Noteworthy, too, was the return address. A local friend and customer, she was usually on the receiving end of yarny packages from me, not I from her.
I tore open the box, doing the mental calculus about what could be contained inside. "I suppose she could fit some yarn in here if she really squished," I thought, "But why would she be sending me yarn?"
Inside the box were several small packages, all neatly wrapped with ribbons, and a card addressed to me. My mind was aflurry -- the package did arrive right before my birthday. "Chocolate, I bet it's chocolate!" I thought.
And I was right.
Next came my second great love: a sweet little card:
Containing the key to obtaining the nectar of the gods:
Someday my obituary will describe my death by chocolate and coffee. I hope.
And in an homage to these loves, an adorable set of sticky notes. I use sticky notes as prolifically as I consume chocolate -- how did she know this?
I will remember where these came from each time I reach for one.
I could've gone to bed a happy woman. My fundamental needs had all been met -- food, drink, something beautiful, and a friend who cared.
But there was more.
A small booklet and an envelope sealed with a dot.
Inside, an incredible gift, not only because of the care and thought that so obviously went in to picking it out (favorites were even highlighted), but because the gift requires me to do what I often forget to do, the thing I need the most: take some time to breathe, to relax, to refrain from checking my emails, to let someone else cook dinner and wipe the counters, to know that the packages, the yarn, the customers, the friends will still be there in a few hours time, and that I will be a better person for having done something for myself.
This ticket to paradise (and that's what it sounds like to me) was sent by an incredible group of customers. The last thing I opened was the card, and within three seconds I was tearing up and calling my husband at his work to tell him about this amazing thing that had happened to me.
It wasn't just the gift. For the gift, I am profoundly grateful. But it was also for the kindness and loyalty and good humor that accompanied the gift. Those are things I value so highly.
The card looked like this:
Inside, was a list of people near and dear to my heart. Also inside was a message that I intend to keep forever. (I have distorted the list of names on the left to protect my friends' privacy.)
The card -- and here is where this post begins to devolve -- was signed "Sheepnuts." Now, the Yarnista was no longer alternating between laughing and crying, she was doing them both simultaneously. My trusty assistant Michelle tentatively asked if everything was OK. She didn't sound like she believed me when I answered, "Yes, everything is great. Something amazing just happened."
Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. Both the incredible gift -- and your friendship -- means so much to me.
XOXOXO
-- Yarnista
