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Date:  Thu, 1 Jan 2026 23:22:21 -0500
From: Steak Omaha Sampler <soskj@singlucy.com>
Reply-To: soskj@singlucy.com
To: bruce@untroubled.org
Subject: 0maha-Steaks SampIer - Get It Today - 5OO Remain
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The morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the wooden floor. I stretched, feeling the familiar ache in my shoulders from yesterday's gardening. The coffee machine gurgled to life, its sound a comforting ritual. Outside, a cardinal landed on the fence, its red feathers bright against the green ivy. I wondered if it was the same one from last week. The newspaper lay unopened on the table, the headlines about some distant political debate. I preferred the quiet of the kitchen, the smell of brewing coffee filling the air. My neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, waved from her yard, holding a pair of pruning shears. We often exchanged notes on our roses, though hers always seemed to bloom more vibrantly. She claimed it was the eggshells she mixed into the soil. The mail truck rumbled down the street, a slow, predictable sound. I thought about the book I was reading, a mystery novel set in a coastal village. The protagonist was a retired librarian with a keen eye for detail, much sharper than the local detective. The plot was thickening around a missing heirloom pocket watch. I took my mug and stepped onto the porch. The air was cool and carried the scent of damp earth. A squirrel chattered from the oak tree, scolding another for coming too close to its stash. It was a simple morning, the kind that felt full of potential without any specific demand. Later, I planned to tidy the garage, a task perpetually on my list. Maybe I'd find that box of old photographs I'd been meaning to sort. For now, the coffee was perfect, and the world was calm. The distant hum of a lawnmower started up, a sure sign of the weekend. I sat down in the wicker chair, its familiar creak a welcome sound. The day stretched ahead, quiet and entirely my own.
OMAHA STEAKS
Exceptional cuts, delivered to you
A Gourmet Sampler from Our Kitchen
We are providing a selection of our hand-selected steaks at no charge to a limited number of participants. This program has 500 samplers available, with one per household. Please respond by the end of the day Tomorrow.
Each steak in this sampler is chosen for its quality and flash-frozen at the peak of flavor to ensure it arrives in excellent condition. You will not be billed for this sampler; it is covered by the program for this offer.
See What's Included
Your Sampler Contents
The following cuts are included in the gourmet box, which is normally priced above six hundred dollars.
Four Filet Mignons
Six Top Sirloins
Four Ribeye Steaks
Four New York Strips
Quantities for this program are set by the allocation.
We appreciate your interest in Omaha Steaks.
The path through the woods was well-trodden, covered in a carpet of pine needles that softened our steps. My friend Alex pointed to a cluster of mushrooms growing at the base of an old stump. "Are those the edible ones" he asked. I shrugged, not trusting my own knowledge. We were looking for the creek, the one that supposedly had a small waterfall. The map on my phone was unreliable out here. The air was cool and smelled of moss and damp wood. A woodpecker tapped rhythmically somewhere to our left. We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being our footsteps and the distant call of a jay. Alex stopped to tie his shoe. "Remember that time we tried to build a treehouse" he said, laughing. It had been years ago, in his backyard. We'd managed a precarious platform about five feet off the ground before his dad made us take it down for safety. The memory felt warm and distant. We finally heard the trickle of water and followed the sound. The creek was smaller than I'd imagined, but the water was clear and cold. The tiny waterfall was more of a gentle cascade over a ledge of smooth rocks. We sat on a large, flat stone, eating the apples we'd brought. Alex talked about his new job at the library, how quiet it was in the afternoons. He was learning the archival system, which he found strangely satisfying. I told him about the pottery class I'd started, how my first vase was lopsided but I liked it anyway. The sun shifted, casting long shadows through the trees. It was time to head back before it got too dark. The walk back felt shorter, our conversation drifting to plans for the next weekend, maybe a movie or just hanging out. The simplicity of the afternoon was its own kind of gift, a break from the usual noise. We emerged from the woods just as the streetlights began to flicker on, our shoes dusty, our minds clear.

http://www.singlucy.com/backspaced-l

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The morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the wooden floor. I stretched, feeling the familiar ache in my shoulders from yesterday's gardening. The coffee machine gurgled to life, its sound a comforting ritual. Outside, a cardinal landed on the fence, its red feathers bright against the green ivy. I wondered if it was the same one from last week. The newspaper lay unopened on the table, the headlines about some distant political debate. I preferred the quiet of the kitchen, the smell of brewing coffee filling the air. My neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, waved from her yard, holding a pair of pruning shears. We often exchanged notes on our roses, though hers always seemed to bloom more vibrantly. She claimed it was the eggshells she mixed into the soil. The mail truck rumbled down the street, a slow, predictable sound. I thought about the book I was reading, a mystery novel set in a coastal village. The protagonist was a retired librarian with a keen eye for detail, much sharper than the local detective. The plot was thickening around a missing heirloom pocket watch. I took my mug and stepped onto the porch. The air was cool and carried the scent of damp earth. A squirrel chattered from the oak tree, scolding another for coming too close to its stash. It was a simple morning, the kind that felt full of potential without any specific demand. Later, I planned to tidy the garage, a task perpetually on my list. Maybe I'd find that box of old photographs I'd been meaning to sort. For now, the coffee was perfect, and the world was calm. The distant hum of a lawnmower started up, a sure sign of the weekend. I sat down in the wicker chair, its familiar creak a welcome sound. The day stretched ahead, quiet and entirely my own.
</div>
<center>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%" style="max-width:600px;margin:0 auto;background-color:#ffffff;border-radius:8px;overflow:hidden;box-shadow:0 4px 12px rgba(0,0,0,0.05);">
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<div style="font-size:42px;font-weight:bold;color:#7a151a;line-height:1;margin-bottom:8px;font-family:Georgia, serif;">OMAHA STEAKS</div>
<div style="font-size:16px;color:#6d6d6d;letter-spacing:0.5px;padding-top:8px;border-top:1px solid #d4a94a;display:inline-block;margin-top:4px;">Exceptional cuts, delivered to you</div>
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<td style="padding:40px 40px 32px;">
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%">
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<h1 style="font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:28px;color:#222222;margin:0 0 12px 0;line-height:1.3;">A Gourmet Sampler from Our Kitchen</h1>
<p style="font-size:17px;color:#3a3a3a;margin:0;line-height:1.5;">We are providing a selection of our hand-selected steaks at no charge to a limited number of participants. This program has 500 samplers available, with one per household. Please respond by the end of the day Tomorrow.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="padding:24px 0;">
<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:1.6;color:#3a3a3a;margin:0 0 20px 0;">Each steak in this sampler is chosen for its quality and flash-frozen at the peak of flavor to ensure it arrives in excellent condition. You will not be billed for this sampler; it is covered by the program for this offer.</p>
<a href="http://www.singlucy.com/backspaced-l" style="background-color:#7a151a;color:#ffffff;text-decoration:none;font-size:18px;font-weight:bold;padding:18px 40px;border-radius:6px;display:inline-block;text-align:center;box-shadow:0 3px 6px rgba(122, 21, 26, 0.2);margin:20px 0 30px;">See What's Included</a>
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</table>
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<td style="padding:0 40px 40px;">
<h2 style="font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:22px;color:#222222;margin:0 0 20px 0;text-align:center;padding-bottom:12px;border-bottom:2px solid #f5efe6;">Your Sampler Contents</h2>
<p style="text-align:center;color:#5a5a5a;font-size:15px;margin-bottom:24px;line-height:1.5;">The following cuts are included in the gourmet box, which is normally priced above six hundred dollars.</p>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%">
<tr>
<td width="50%" style="vertical-align:top;padding-right:10px;">
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%" style="border:1px solid #d8cec4;border-radius:6px;background-color:#faf6f0;margin-bottom:12px;">
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<td style="padding:16px;font-size:16px;color:#3a3a3a;">Four Filet Mignons</td>
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</table>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%" style="border:1px solid #d8cec4;border-radius:6px;background-color:#ffffff;margin-bottom:12px;">
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<td style="padding:16px;font-size:16px;color:#3a3a3a;">Six Top Sirloins</td>
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<td width="50%" style="vertical-align:top;padding-left:10px;">
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<td style="padding:16px;font-size:16px;color:#3a3a3a;">Four Ribeye Steaks</td>
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</table>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%" style="border:1px solid #d8cec4;border-radius:6px;background-color:#faf6f0;margin-bottom:12px;">
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<td style="padding:16px;font-size:16px;color:#3a3a3a;">Four New York Strips</td>
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</td>
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</table>
<p style="font-size:14px;color:#787878;text-align:center;font-style:italic;margin-top:28px;padding-top:20px;border-top:1px dashed #cfc6bd;">Quantities for this program are set by the allocation.</p>
</td>
</tr>
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<td style="padding:32px 40px;text-align:center;background-color:#fefcf9;border-top:1px solid #e3dbd2;">
<p style="font-size:15px;color:#5a5a5a;margin:0 0 16px 0;line-height:1.5;">We appreciate your interest in Omaha Steaks.</p>
<div style="height:4px;background-color:#7a151a;width:120px;margin:0 auto;border-radius:2px;"></div>
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The path through the woods was well-trodden, covered in a carpet of pine needles that softened our steps. My friend Alex pointed to a cluster of mushrooms growing at the base of an old stump. "Are those the edible ones" he asked. I shrugged, not trusting my own knowledge. We were looking for the creek, the one that supposedly had a small waterfall. The map on my phone was unreliable out here. The air was cool and smelled of moss and damp wood. A woodpecker tapped rhythmically somewhere to our left. We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being our footsteps and the distant call of a jay. Alex stopped to tie his shoe. "Remember that time we tried to build a treehouse" he said, laughing. It had been years ago, in his backyard. We'd managed a precarious platform about five feet off the ground before his dad made us take it down for safety. The memory felt warm and distant. We finally heard the trickle of water and followed the sound. The creek was smaller than I'd imagined, but the water was clear and cold. The tiny waterfall was more of a gentle cascade over a ledge of smooth rocks. We sat on a large, flat stone, eating the apples we'd brought. Alex talked about his new job at the library, how quiet it was in the afternoons. He was learning the archival system, which he found strangely satisfying. I told him about the pottery class I'd started, how my first vase was lopsided but I liked it anyway. The sun shifted, casting long shadows through the trees. It was time to head back before it got too dark. The walk back felt shorter, our conversation drifting to plans for the next weekend, maybe a movie or just hanging out. The simplicity of the afternoon was its own kind of gift, a break from the usual noise. We emerged from the woods just as the streetlights began to flicker on, our shoes dusty, our minds clear.
</div>
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