Southpaw Jones

I hope this morning finds you rested and well. By the time you read this, I’ll probably be mowing old Mrs. Flomer’s yard down the block. It’s Wednesday, so I know you’ll be working the turnip patch by the time I return home. Might I suggest tuna fish sandwiches for lunch? Three cheers for celery?

I know our lives together have been rather boring since I quit my job as an international spy and you stopped volunteering for Accountants without Borders. Retirement is hard for married people, even those couples who enjoy each other’s kooky company as much as we do. Variety is the spice of life, and frankly, our spice rack is overrun with cobwebs. (I mean that figuratively, of course, but I realize while writing it that our actual spice rack is covered in cobwebs too. If you don’t get a chance to clear those out this morning, I’ll make it a point to add it to my afternoon agenda.)

Anyway, I don’t mean to take up so much of your favorite paisley stationary. I just want to reiterate that I love you very much, and I thank you for forcing me to watch American Idol last night. Usually, the sound of young people singing makes me break out in hives, but those kids do indeed have talent! They hold the microphone tightly like fat, untrusting corporate executives hold the trapeze at a team-building ropes course. They look straight into the camera, completely ignoring the live audience, and you know I love that. Some of them even play instruments and sing at the same time! I honestly don’t know if I can go back to scripted drama beyond my semi-annual viewing of the Murder, She Wrote collection. Idol is my new idol and God Himself dare not judge me for worshipping at its silver toe ring.

That’s all, really. You brought something wonderful and highly-rated into my life, and I need to be faster to thank you for such gifts. When does it come on again? Can we vote using our rotary phone? What was the name of that one guy with the hair? That one girl with the tattoo? We’ll discuss at lunch. 9:45? See you then.

Your loving husband,
Octavio

as reported in The New York Times

March 19, 1908
PADEREWSKI’S $7,500 CHICKS.
Four Sent to Wife of Pianist In Ordinary Crate.

One clue whose answer consists of two rhyming words:

That’s where they mix up the salad ingredients, there where the railroad tracks intersect with the road. What, you’ve lived here all your life and you’ve never heard of…

Highlight here for answer: [Tossing Crossing]


If Celebs Moved to Oklahoma
Johnny Depp

How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude!
But grant me still a friend in my retreat
Whom I may whisper — solitude is sweet.
William Cowper

EVERY DANG THURSDAY
with Matt the Electrician
8:00 PM
Flipnotics at the Triangle
4600 Guadalupe
AUSTIN, TX
(512) 380-0097
http://flipnotics.com