25 March 2017
Hey TW — No special reason for writing today. Just found a blank postcard kicking around and thought I’d send it to you. But first I need to write on it. No one likes receiving a blank postcard.
You’ll notice that this postcard alleges to have been “mailed by mule”; this is not true. I mailed it from the regular post office at the top of the canyon, where trucks pick up mail. Mules get mail from the bottom … and that’s where I got this postcard, but I hiked out without writing it. Now I’m writing it to you, so there you go.
I found it when I was clearing out old stuff, making space on shelves in anticipation of the new baby’s arrival. I guess all babies are new babies. No one’s ever like, “Damn, you just gave birth to the oldest baby ever,” and then the baby complains about how much less expensive milk was when he was a fetus in the 1920s. Anyway, I had serious stuff to tell you, but now I’m out of room.
22 May 2017
Hey TW — I hope all is well with you. Due date is fast approaching. To help prepare fro the new baby’s arrival I have replaced the broken horn on the family wagon with an upgraded, louder model — safety first, and that’s why I opted for the Freeway Blaster. “¡La bocina extremadamente potente 133 dB!” Truer words were never written. I finally got that thing I always wanted.
05 July 2017
Hey TW — Enclosed here is a sticker that says “Toms.” Stick it on your stuff! That way everyone will know it’s yours. Add an apostrophe if you want to more clearly convey the intended possessive message. How are you? How is life? Are you doing a good job at fatherhood? Everything I’ve seen makes it look super hard, so if you have any tips please pass ’em on. Did you know that babies can’t drive? You have to take them everywhere they need to go!
15 November 2017
TW — We got to get you out here to canyon country. Or if you want, I’ll have some time in February during the off season and we can each just walk to a pre-arranged meeting point in central Nevada if that’s convenient for you. Central Nevada is about halfway between us, I figure.
09 May 2018
There in the woods he lurks … waiting … waiting … waiting to steal your beer. A twig snaps. You hear the fearsome hominid flee … but the threat isn’t over yet. Bigfoot could still strike at any moment, like a bolt of hairy lightning, pilfering your cooler and leaving you thirsty.
