Got home from the Xmas crush, sort of rolling side-show for a holiday, and then, as I unpacked the big suitcase, I made note of “Thank-yous” I wanted to write.
I’d been saving a special thank-you note I’d found, had large spread with a very fine porcine example gracing the cover of the card and a suitable note printed inside. Eventually, since my mother likes pigs, I got around to that note.
She called, the other afternoon, just to let me know she received a fine envelope with nothing inside.
I merely pointed out that’s why I liked what she did, a printed note with an e-mail copy. So much for handwritten stuff.
Of course, I’ll blame the planets.
Bssomatic: Set the controls for the Heart of the Bass.
Quarter Century of Macintosh computers.