I was trudging to the mailbox. My neighbor across the street was getting into her car. She saw me and hollered, "Hey Ms Neighbor, how are you?"
I croaked back, "It's a pain filled day, Myrna, a pain filled day." Then I stuck out my right thumb and asked, "Can I thumb a ride?"
Well she laughed, on cue, then said, "Why sure Ms Neighbor, come on, I'll give you a ride. How far are you going?"
When I replied, "To the mail box," she laughed for real. I laughed too, then waved her away.
Our mailboxes are those pitiful cluster things. I have to cross the street on a diagonal, then walk the length of one and a half houses to get there, but I wish the mail could have come to me.
When I unlocked and opened the plastic door, I saw a stack of mail about 5 or 6 inches high. Goody! I grinned. It was so hot out, the wind blew across my teeth and dried 'em off before I could close my mouth. It dried my gums too. So I smiled instead as I reached in. Postal crack! aka mail.
I knew I'd struck a mother lode the second I saw the stickers. Carter the Great had rewarded me with some of the best. The back was just as rewarding . . .
Please disregard the ripped flap. Okay, I was just that happy and excited. I got a little carried away. "Eat my rust." That's just plain funny. Right? But wait. It gets better.
Scroll down . . .
A real knee slapper. For real, huh? LOL!
This is too funny not to share. I know, I don't know all the rules among letter writers, but
I'm learning. I've been a private person for so long, if
y'all you all will bear with me a little longer, I promise to git get the rules down pat very soon. I've decided to show off my mail cache when I can't write much. I'm practicing a bit before hand, but this was a day-maker for me. And I want to share it with you. Y'all know who Carter the Great is, right? He's the little boy who sends major doses of postal joy via his aunt Misty. You know that if you've written to him. I won't share what he said, 'cause it's personal, and all communications from an honorary cowboy is strictly private. If I told, I'd have to put you down like you were a rabid rabbit.
There's a plus here folks. I almost bought this but wasn't who I'd send it to. Now I wish I had, because I'd like to share the beauty and my enjoyment of b&w photography. Thank you WK.
Mail is postal joy, and it's like a box of fine chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get, but when you do, you can't get enough.