Tl;dr: skip to the hatchet lady killing people in Hollywood. Or the killer in Milwaukee. Or how to send away for a Confederate hat.
Gifts in the mail. Mysteries waiting to be opened. I always say that I care little about the day of my birth, I'm stuck here and can't do jack about it. I'll post the photos. Magazines from 1959--and I'm 59 today, how the hell could I have outlived Burt Reynolds?--are from Chris and Lenore Lohnes and the books were sent from my friend Amazon Warehouse Lexington. I don't doubt some hipster family names their new kid that one day. Poor slob. But those books came in late August, care of my good friend Wendi Tibbets and her Cubs fan husband Dan. I told Wendi I was waiting until my birthday, considering the closeness in dates and the fact that I was really letting mail just pile up because its been in the 80s and 90s here since forever.
Oh, and I bought myself my dream rug. And a collection of all of The Red Bee stories in print. I'm just doing this this one time. Hopefully this will all be over with soon. Maybe I'll post the photos out of order, just go with it. Oh, and Wendi and Dan have the skull of a coyote hanging in their yard as a pinata.