A few months ago, I signed up for Blue Moon Fiber's Rockin' Sock Club, and my excitement about it has been building ever since. Members of the sock club receive a sock kit every second month that includes special yarn developed strictly for the club and a sock pattern created by a popular designer. Neither are available to the general public until the sock club year is over.
I put aside the sock club fee from some money that I received from a small editing contract, and then forgot about it. I got busy with writing and editing contracts. Christmas came and went. But every once in a while, I'd remember and get excited. Each stage of the process since has refueled my interest. At the beginning of January, I got the payment email. I transfered the money to my credit card and paid the fee through PayPal. On January 21st, the first installment was shipped from Scappoose, Oregon, where Blue Moon lives. Last week, I checked the mail on Friday, but there was no sign of it yet.
Today, I had my son check the mail and sure enough, a postal slip had arrived. I threw on my Sorrels, my parka, my mitts, and headed into the minus 30C weather to my car. After I started the car, I tried to unplug the extension cord, but it's one that is nearly impossible to plug in or unplug. *sigh* So I called my son out to unplug it for me, and once he wrenched it apart, I was off.
In this cold, my car becomes a Sherman tank. The tires are frozen so the bottom of the tire remains flat when the tire goes around. With every bump you go over (and the frozen snowy roads are full of 'em) the car lurches and the shocks groan but they don't move at all. It's kind of like riding in Fred Flintstone's car.
I got to the drug store, parked, and sprinted across the parking lot, not breathing (I didn't want my nostrils to freeze up). As I headed up the aisle toward the postal outlet, I felt stirrings of apprehension. The light looked dim over the postal counter. Surely the bulb is burned out I told myself. When I got closer I was relieved to see lights burning brightly in the back. I confidently strode up to the counter and tapped the counter bell for service.
"You want the post office?" I heard from the pharmacy counter behind me.
"Yes. Is it after 7?" (They close the post office at 7:00 p.m.)
"No, our postal employee was unable to make it to work today because of the weather, so we couldn't open the post office, " Dave, the pharmacist and store owner, replied.
Now, it's a good thing I'm not the type to freak out in these situations. Once in a while I get miffed, but in general I'm pretty laid back. I asked if the postal outlet would be open tomorrow and he replied that it would be. Dejected, I returned home without my much anticipated sock kit. *heavy sigh*
I can't be mad at Dave because he went way above and beyond the call of duty for me last spring. It was the Sunday that we were leaving to go to Ireland and I realized that I'd forgotten to pick up the prescriptions I'd phoned in at the other drug store in town. I had to have my meds before I left, but that drug store was closed Sundays. So our Dave, wonderful guy that he is, left the comforts of home on his day off, unlocked the other drug store (it's not open Sundays. And it's not his store), retrieved my prescriptions, and delivered them to his store where I picked them up later on the way to the airport.
Days like that are what make small-town living the best. Unfortunately, the price you pay is a day like today. Good thing they only happen once in a blue moon (pun intended!)
So, I'm curbing my excitement for tonight, and I'll get my first Rockin' Sock Club kit tomorrow. And, if the postal outlet is closed again, I'll have to go postal myself.