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From: Steak Sampler Omaha <steakstag@lareddeoz.com>
Reply-To: steakstag@lareddeoz.com
To:  bruce@untroubled.org
Date: Fri, 9 Jan 2026 17:16:21 -0500
Subject: 0maha-Steaks Is Giving You A Steak SampIer - Get It Today - OnIy 500 Remain
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The morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the wooden floor. I sat with my notebook, the quiet of the house a blanket around me. Outside, a bird was trying out a new song, a series of short, inquisitive chirps that broke the stillness. I thought about the book I was reading, a dense history of a place I'd never been, and how it made me want to see the world differently. The protagonist, a cartographer from a century ago, was obsessed with accuracy, with capturing the precise curve of a riverbank. It made me consider the maps we make in our own lives, the mental sketches of our daily routes and routines. My coffee had gone cold, but I took a sip anyway, the bitterness a familiar anchor. The phone rang once, then stopped, a sound so abrupt it felt like a punctuation mark in the silence. I wondered who it might have been, then let the thought drift away. The neighbor's dog barked, a sharp, declarative sound that spoke of squirrels or passing cars. I stretched my arms above my head, feeling the pleasant pull of muscles. Later, I would need to water the plants on the porch, their leaves looking a little thirsty in the growing heat. For now, though, there was just this moment, this patch of sunlight, and the slow turning of a page. The cartographer in my book faced a storm that ruined his papers, forcing him to rely on memory. It was a lesson in resilience, in starting over with what you carry inside. I closed my eyes for a second, listening to the hum of the refrigerator, a sound so constant it had become part of the background music of home.
Omaha Steaks
Premium cuts delivered to your kitchen
A Note About Our Gourmet Sampler
We have a selection of samplers available through this program.
Omaha Steaks is providing a gourmet steak sampler to participants. There are 500 samplers allocated for this program. Each sampler is provided at no charge to the recipient. This is limited to one sampler per household. Please note this program concludes tomorrow.
Our process involves hand-selecting each cut, which is then flash-frozen to preserve its quality and flavor from our facility to you.
See What's Included
Sampler Contents
Four Filet Mignons
Four Ribeye Steaks
Four New York Strips
Six Top Sirloins
The sampler is part of a defined program allocation.
The typical value of a comparable sampler is above six hundred dollars.
We appreciate your interest in Omaha Steaks.
He leaned against the doorway, watching the rain sheet down the windowpane. "Remember that old bakery on Elm Street" he asked, his voice barely above the sound of the downpour. I nodded, not looking up from the puzzle spread across the table. "The one with the blue awning. They had those powdered sugar donuts on Saturdays." "That's the one," he said, pushing off the frame and coming to sit in the armchair. "I walked by there the other day. It's a florist now. All those roses in the window where the bread racks used to be." I placed a piece of the puzzle, a fragment of a blue sky that fit nowhere yet. Change was like that, constant and subtle, rewriting the map of a neighborhood one storefront at a time. We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the rain and the soft click of puzzle pieces. He picked up a book from the side table, flipped through a few pages, then put it down again. "I think I'll make soup later," he announced, as if it were a grand plan. "Something hearty." It was a good day for it, a day that felt tucked away from the world. The light was the grey, soft light that makes lamps seem warmer and more inviting. I found another piece, this one with a sliver of a tree branch. The puzzle was of a forest in autumn, a riot of oranges and reds that was a stark contrast to the grey outside. "Did I ever tell you about the time I got lost in the woods as a kid" he asked, settling deeper into the chair. I shook my head, my attention now divided between the puzzle and his story. "It was less dramatic than it sounds. I was maybe eight. I followed a rabbit, just for a few minutes, but when I turned around, the path was gone. Or I couldn't see it. Everything looked the same." He smiled at the memory. "I wasn't even scared. Just curious. I sat down on a log and waited. I figured someone would come along eventually, or I'd find my way back." "And did you" I asked. "My dad found me. He wasn't even mad, just relieved. He said I had a good sense of direction to have stayed put." The story faded into the quiet room, becoming part of the afternoon's texture. The rain began to let up, the heavy drumming softening to a gentle patter. He stood and stretched. "Soup time," he declared, and headed towards the kitchen. I looked at the puzzle, the growing patch of completed sky, and felt a simple, deep contentment. The world outside was changing, the bakery was gone, but here, in this room with the rain easing and soup on the horizon, things felt perfectly, peacefully in place.

http://www.lareddeoz.com/piriz

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The morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the wooden floor. I sat with my notebook, the quiet of the house a blanket around me. Outside, a bird was trying out a new song, a series of short, inquisitive chirps that broke the stillness. I thought about the book I was reading, a dense history of a place I'd never been, and how it made me want to see the world differently. The protagonist, a cartographer from a century ago, was obsessed with accuracy, with capturing the precise curve of a riverbank. It made me consider the maps we make in our own lives, the mental sketches of our daily routes and routines. My coffee had gone cold, but I took a sip anyway, the bitterness a familiar anchor. The phone rang once, then stopped, a sound so abrupt it felt like a punctuation mark in the silence. I wondered who it might have been, then let the thought drift away. The neighbor's dog barked, a sharp, declarative sound that spoke of squirrels or passing cars. I stretched my arms above my head, feeling the pleasant pull of muscles. Later, I would need to water the plants on the porch, their leaves looking a little thirsty in the growing heat. For now, though, there was just this moment, this patch of sunlight, and the slow turning of a page. The cartographer in my book faced a storm that ruined his papers, forcing him to rely on memory. It was a lesson in resilience, in starting over with what you carry inside. I closed my eyes for a second, listening to the hum of the refrigerator, a sound so constant it had become part of the background music of home.
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<h1 style="margin:0;font-size:42px;font-weight:700;letter-spacing:-0.5px;color:#8a1921;font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;">Omaha Steaks</h1>
<p style="margin:10px 0 0 0;font-size:16px;color:#787878;font-style:italic;">Premium cuts delivered to your kitchen</p>
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<h2 style="margin:0 0 8px 0;font-size:28px;color:#2e2e2e;font-weight:600;">A Note About Our Gourmet Sampler</h2>
<p style="margin:0;font-size:17px;color:#5a5a5a;">We have a selection of samplers available through this program.</p>
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<td style="padding-bottom:25px;">
<p style="margin:0 0 15px 0;font-size:16px;color:#3a3a3a;">Omaha Steaks is providing a gourmet steak sampler to participants. There are 500 samplers allocated for this program. Each sampler is provided at no charge to the recipient. This is limited to one sampler per household. Please note this program concludes tomorrow.</p>
<p style="margin:0;font-size:16px;color:#3a3a3a;">Our process involves hand-selecting each cut, which is then flash-frozen to preserve its quality and flavor from our facility to you.</p>
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<a href="http://www.lareddeoz.com/piriz" style="background-color:#8a1921;color:#ffffff;padding:18px 40px;text-decoration:none;font-size:18px;font-weight:bold;border-radius:6px;display:inline-block;box-shadow:0 3px 6px rgba(138, 25, 33, 0.2);mso-padding-alt:0;text-align:center;">See What's Included</a>
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<h3 style="margin:0 0 15px 0;font-size:22px;color:#2e2e2e;font-weight:600;text-align:center;">Sampler Contents</h3>
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<td style="padding:15px;font-size:16px;color:#3a3a3a;">Four Filet Mignons</td>
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<td style="padding:15px;font-size:16px;color:#3a3a3a;">Four Ribeye Steaks</td>
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<td style="padding:15px;font-size:16px;color:#3a3a3a;">Four New York Strips</td>
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<td style="padding:15px;font-size:16px;color:#3a3a3a;">Six Top Sirloins</td>
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<p style="margin:20px 0 0 0;font-size:15px;color:#787878;text-align:center;font-style:italic;">The sampler is part of a defined program allocation.</p>
<p style="margin:10px 0 0 0;font-size:15px;color:#787878;text-align:center;">The typical value of a comparable sampler is above six hundred dollars.</p>
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<td style="padding-top:20px;border-top:1px solid #e3dbd2;">
<p style="margin:0;font-size:15px;color:#5a5a5a;text-align:center;">We appreciate your interest in Omaha Steaks.</p>
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He leaned against the doorway, watching the rain sheet down the windowpane. "Remember that old bakery on Elm Street" he asked, his voice barely above the sound of the downpour. I nodded, not looking up from the puzzle spread across the table. "The one with the blue awning. They had those powdered sugar donuts on Saturdays." "That's the one," he said, pushing off the frame and coming to sit in the armchair. "I walked by there the other day. It's a florist now. All those roses in the window where the bread racks used to be." I placed a piece of the puzzle, a fragment of a blue sky that fit nowhere yet. Change was like that, constant and subtle, rewriting the map of a neighborhood one storefront at a time. We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the rain and the soft click of puzzle pieces. He picked up a book from the side table, flipped through a few pages, then put it down again. "I think I'll make soup later," he announced, as if it were a grand plan. "Something hearty." It was a good day for it, a day that felt tucked away from the world. The light was the grey, soft light that makes lamps seem warmer and more inviting. I found another piece, this one with a sliver of a tree branch. The puzzle was of a forest in autumn, a riot of oranges and reds that was a stark contrast to the grey outside. "Did I ever tell you about the time I got lost in the woods as a kid" he asked, settling deeper into the chair. I shook my head, my attention now divided between the puzzle and his story. "It was less dramatic than it sounds. I was maybe eight. I followed a rabbit, just for a few minutes, but when I turned around, the path was gone. Or I couldn't see it. Everything looked the same." He smiled at the memory. "I wasn't even scared. Just curious. I sat down on a log and waited. I figured someone would come along eventually, or I'd find my way back." "And did you" I asked. "My dad found me. He wasn't even mad, just relieved. He said I had a good sense of direction to have stayed put." The story faded into the quiet room, becoming part of the afternoon's texture. The rain began to let up, the heavy drumming softening to a gentle patter. He stood and stretched. "Soup time," he declared, and headed towards the kitchen. I looked at the puzzle, the growing patch of completed sky, and felt a simple, deep contentment. The world outside was changing, the bakery was gone, but here, in this room with the rain easing and soup on the horizon, things felt perfectly, peacefully in place.
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