Found Mom's shells!

I just knew there was at least one more box of shells to stub our toes on, and lo and behold I found them! Luckily, without having to stub my toe. Bonus.

And double-bonus...they're mom's shells! How do I know? Well, for one, the box has a shipping label sent from Milwaukee back in Feb '97 addressed to Karen Fredrich in Avon Park.

Two, there's a smaller box (I use the term "smaller" loosely) which was put into a brown paper bag, written with mom's writing marked...get this...DIANE'S SHELLS! Well, Diane, after all these years, you can finally be reunited with all your long-lost shells and assorted rocks. We'll give you a moment to wipe away the tears. Now, wouldn't you like them back so you can hand them down to your grandchildren?  (wouldn't James be thrilled?? lol)

And thirdly I know they're mom's because no Floridian buys a netted bag of shells (see pic). That's like blasphemy, I think.

The fourth reason I know they're mom's (aren't I the big detective, eh?): they're unorganized. All of Karen's shells were divided by size, shape and color; were labeled with a label maker; and were stored in all sorts of plasticware and containers. Mom's are all lumped together in big plastic bags. I'm sure she had every intention of sorting them...someday....

Oh, and the fifth and last piece of evidence that this box came from mom's....drum roll, please....it's got a piece of driftwood in it!! Aahhh...sniff...mom and her driftwood. I love it, too. Can you inherit love of driftwood? Seriously?

Ok, so there you have it. Mystery solved thanks to super-sleuth Kris.

Although I probably just dug my own grave here. Someone's gonna make me haul these 45 pounds of assorted pieces of shells to WI, aren't they? Who's it gonna be? Maybe I can sweeten the pot and lighten the load by offering to cull the best shells and leave the rest to the ocean. Yes?