Charlie

As you can imagine, I have been going through stamps and note cards like CRAZY.  I ran out three days ago.  Today was stamp buying day.  Typically I purchase my stamps at the self serve kiosk because the lines are too long to talk to an actual person.  They are not cute stamps at the kiosk.  They are not even patriotic American flag stamps.  They are forever stamps that are large with a 1950's postman that look funny on my envelopes because they are too big.  The fact that they are the wrong size really bothers me. 

Right now you are thinking, "Sorry, Jenny McCarthy.  At the moment, my money is on genetics causing autism."  That's okay.  I'm not ashamed of my stamp fixation.

When I arrived at the post office, there was no line at all so I skipped the kiosk and went for the good stuff.  I told the gentleman behind the desk that I needed stamps.  Fancy stamps.  "Do you have any fancy stamps?"    I remember the old days when postal workers were cranky and that kind of question would have been met with a snarky response.  Not today.  The gentleman opened his drawer and pulled out all kinds of fancy stamps.  He showed me the flowered ones first, which were pretty.  I have had each kind growing in a garden at some point in my adult life.    Then he said he had muscle car stamps, which he didn't think I would like.  He didn't realize that when all of my kids are finally out of the house and I have snow white hair, I'm going to trade my mom mobile for a muscle car and a Vespa.  He also had some Johnny Cash stamps and...well, he's the man in black.  I bought some of each because I am a flower growin', muscle car wantin', Johnny Cash lovin' kind of girl. 

Charlie, thanks for pulling them all out so my envelopes can be on their way with the perfect stamp.