Special Delivery

The name "Jenski" comes from my Aunt Kitty. I'm not quite sure of it's origin, but my family has called me it since the day I was born. I've always embraced it and there are the few close friends who picked up the name from my mom, but never go out of my way to tell anyone outside of this virtual world my nickname. I have my Grandmother to do that. Now before i'm blasted for going on a tirade about my Grandma, I should qualify things by saying first and foremost I absolutely love my Grandparents. They're sweet and lovely people from a small town in central Wisconsin and I love them to death. Though my Grandpa has figured out how to send me emails, I still write them letters often. My sister always seems to one-up me by sending out a larger volume of letters, but I do my best to keep them entertained with tales of my life in Brooklyn.

Today I received a call from the receptionist at work letting me know I had a package waiting for me at the front desk. She's laughing as she's telling me this, but I think nothing of it an assume it's because she's just exchanged a joke with someone. I get to the desk and glance down at the package. To Jenski Dill. I stop wondering why she's laughing at me. I take the package to my desk, peel off the label and give it to one of my coworkers who already was privvy to my childhood monkier. I'll admit it - I thought it was a sweet gesture, but it's a little hard to try and get your colleagues to take you seriously with care packages with cookies being sent to your office. All it takes is a package from Grandma to make you feel like you're 12 again.