Envelopes are a wonderful container. When I had my practice I had cards made up the first couple of times but I was not always happy with them. I found a medical office supply catalog and discovered I could order a box of tiny envelopes, intended for dispensing pill samples. With my own name and address on them, I could hand them out filled with little hearts or stars. I used them for a lot of things and I still have some left, the address long out of date, where I can put in the odd screw or clock parts, today's vitamins, or just marvel at the edges of the box as it comes right up to the top, how the lid fits over snuggly and goes on the shelf in the cabinet.

My father was in commercial art and design for years, and often he dealt directly with the printers to follow through with a job or get a paper sample. He found certain print shops better for special projects. Then came the day that he filled the whole car with packages of the printer's cut off edges. All kinds of shapes, colors, sizes, textures, weights, coatings. There was a thin pink sheet, almost tracing paper that I used for writing love letters. A long light poster board (probably card stock), two shades of green, we used for birthday crowns. I sewed little books together of poetry and ink drawings, some brown, some ivory, some a blotter paper white. The whole basement was lined with these brown wrapped packages, a sample of the paper taped over the front. I could not imagine growing up without such a supply of paper.