Fourteen boxes of Frangos this year. The list still includes doormen at three buildings where we no longer live. Marina gets the largest box, with “for the sleeve” on her card. Deb's grandchildren have been added, and there is one for the sergeant at the January CAPS meeting. I'm putting “Evidence” on that one. I've been waiting to use that since August.
Buying them takes about nine minutes. I tend to linger anyway. I remember when the mints were made upstairs on the thirteenth floor, and I like standing in Field's with a box in my hands, even if the box has come from somewhere else now.
I use the store wrapping for most of the list. Marina's, Deb's and the grandmother's I do at the dining table, with the paper from the drawer and the good scissors. My mother taught me to curl ribbon with the edge of a blade. She considered that, thank-you notes and parallel parking things a woman ought to be able to do properly.
The boxes are wrapped and waiting in the hall for this week's rounds. Marina will understand her card without my writing another word.
— Ash