Les Bonnes Choses

It's taken 4 years, but my first fan mail came at the end of last week:


Normally, a high-profile celebrity like me would be wary of an unsolicited packaged in the mail. But I'm not like other celebrities. I'm a down-to-earth kind of guy. I put on my pants one leg at a time, except on those lazy weekend afternoons, where I just can't be bothered to wear pants. But I was wearing pants when I went out to the mailbox, in case you were wondering. I opened up the package to find one of the best foodstuffs ever:


Jerky. If ever there was an upside to survivalist living, it's living off salty, dessicated strips of animal flesh, not much different from the chicken nugget that fell beneath your driver's seat last April. For some reason, I like the stuff. So does my eldest son. The younger one doesn't yet have enough teeth for jerky, but I wager he'll like it too, especially since he shares my taste for black licorice, and that stuff smells like a tire fire.

As I was planning out this blog entry after work, I naturally decided it would be appropriate to eat a strip or two. And because my dinner was still on the stove, I started to snack on some mixed nuts. I'm pretty sure I've now exceeded my salt intake for the day. The first clue was that I am now exerting osmotic pressure on the groundwater beneath the house. I'm leaving puddles everywhere I step.

Okay, I have a confession to make. I embellished a bit. I am not actually leaving puddles on the floor. And the jerky that arrived in the mail came not from a crazy fan, but instead from Rebecca's cousin and her husband. But it was a very generous gesture on their part, and I have convinced myself that my blogging had something to do with it. So I shall go to the post office tomorrow and set up a PO Box, should anyone else out there want to send me jerky.