However, some mail carriers seem to have an attitude. Last year, I left 70 cases of premium ice cream out by the mailbox, and my lazy, overpaid, nasty little mail lady left it there! She mumbled something unpleasant about it being "perishable." Perishable? So's your job, honey. Who sends anything by snail mail anymore? I always just roll up notes and stick them in one of the help's collar, then send them off, with bus fare, to wherever I want the note to go.
Anyway, give give give! Oh, I feel saintly now, like Jesus, except with better bust and thighs.
(Babs St Argent is the gal with it all, from the late Objets D'art blog! This post appeared there one year ago under the title "Pheasant Under Glass For The Hungry". Fireblossom would have posted a beautiful new original poem instead, but she will be lugging &%$#@ canned goods around all day and must conserve her delicate self for this