Yesterday on our way to school we were waiting at the crosswalk when a mail truck stopped for us. I waved to the driver of the vehicle, and as we made our way across the street Aaron came up along side of me riding his scooter and said, "Newman!"
It caught me off guard. What did he mean? "Newman." Then it hit me. Had this boy seen that many episodes of Seinfeld with his mother that he actually knew Newman was a postal worker? I hope it was just a lucky guess. When I asked him about it later, he told me he didn't know who Newman was.
It got me thinking about my mail. I have to agree with the majority of Americans. I hate junk mail - it only clutters my kitchen counter tops. It never stops! Each day they keep bringing me more. And every time I go to my mailbox with my mail key in hand, I expect to find something on the other side. I'm disappointed when my little box is empty. That's one thing I miss when the Christmas holidays are over. REAL mail. You know the kind. Envelopes that have been addressed by hand. Call me selfish, but I love REAL mail. Keep the real mail coming Newman!
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