The saddest words...For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: `It might have been!`
This excerpt from a poem by John Greenleaf Whittier has been rolling through my brain for 3 days. Nancy and Steve and a few other Humzooers know why. I considered keeping the tragedy to ourselves but we're all friends here we don't need to keep secrets, right?
Last week before the Heinzels left Springfield, IL to go to Kitty Hawk, NC, Nancy and I worked out a little deal Humzoo stickers for treats. Now, before you think badly of Nancy, she did not expect anything for her generosity and sticker shipment-the idea of the exchange was entirely mine but she went along with the idea and gave me a shipping address to the realtor's office (we were concerned the beach house wouldn't be a mail drop). My stickers went into the mail and were happily received and the receipt was documented on Humzoo (don't we document everything here?), I baked and packed and shipped my package on Saturday, priority mail, along with four other boxes--all of which arrived at their destination on Monday.
I expected the shipment to show up on Tuesday due to Kitty Hawk's location (no major airport close by) but eagerly watched the box move across the country and excitedly wrote to Nancy on Tuesday morning "The Package Has Arrived!". We both eagerly awaited her pickup of the box and sharing of the treats. That's when the tragedy occurred. I got a second notification a few hours later "not deliverable as addressed". We emailed back and forth-confused. Did I get the wrong address from her email? Did I write the address wrong? Unfortunately by the time we discovered a problem existed-the post office was closed.
We both discovered the problem roughly at the same time the realty office has a PO box-not a street mail drop. Nancy talked to the realty office, I tried connecting with the Post Office via their website-but our attempts to grab the box before it was returned to Oregon failed. In frustration, I watched the package come back. My double-frustration was the waste of the return trip if we could only have gotten one person to work with us and redirect the package to a PO box (for a town of 3,000). But the days of postal carriers who drink coffee with their customers and pat neighborhood children on the head, calling them by name, have apparently passed into history. I can't fault the post office for being efficient and I did get the box back (much to my disappointment). Nancy and I kept hoping the package would magically appear at the realtor's office or PO Box-a Frank Capra movie ending to our saga-until late last night when I saw the package was back in Portland.
Nancy, Steve, Dave, Courtney and everyone else at the beach-I'm sorry we failed. Perhaps if we had gotten the Humzoo Express to be our carrier, we would have been assured of delivery. My hopes of sharing the famous Death By Chocolate Chunk Cookies (DBCC) with you and your families were dashed by the existence of a PO box.
My last secret to share. Nancy, I decided to send more than the cookies. I couldn't resist. My muse demanded it. I acquiesced. I also shipped a pan of Pecan Strawberry Shortbread Bars. I wanted the package to contain a surprise even if you knew the package was coming. My muse loves surprises. So, not only did you miss the cookies; you missed the bars.
(yes, the pan was quite beat up but the bars survived!)
The good news (maybe there is a Capra ending to this story), the cookies and bars appear to be edible even after two transcontinental flights and untold handling and temperatures. My co-workers have assured me they will sacrifice themselves to avoid waste-so the baking is not in vain. The cost can be equated to paying to see a disappointing movie or wasting some gas on errands-no harm, no foul. But I will end as I started this blog:
(paraphrased) "The saddest words, it might have been!" will, alas, be our epitaph for the attempt.