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Más vale tarde que nunca
While I was at my sister's, I casually remarked that the Latino market a block and a half from here sells a full assortment of turrones. I didn't bring any because I remember too many years where each of us brought all the things we thought would be special for Christmas and the combined effect was more than any of us could or should willingly eat. My sister told me she wished I had, and I told her I'd remember that for next year.
After she dropped me off at the airport and I stood in line half an hour for security, I realised I still had my mother's housekey. Once back in Chicago, I called Mom and asked her if she wanted me to send it. On the way to the post office, I had an inspiration. Minutes later, I was standing there sandwiching the key between two boxes of turrón (one alicante, one jijona) and stuffing it all into the $5 flat rate box. It arrived there today, three days ahead of the Three Kings.
After she dropped me off at the airport and I stood in line half an hour for security, I realised I still had my mother's housekey. Once back in Chicago, I called Mom and asked her if she wanted me to send it. On the way to the post office, I had an inspiration. Minutes later, I was standing there sandwiching the key between two boxes of turrón (one alicante, one jijona) and stuffing it all into the $5 flat rate box. It arrived there today, three days ahead of the Three Kings.