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To: bruce@untroubled.org
From: Omaha Steak Package <omahasteakpa24@koyndex.com>
Reply-To: omahasteakpa24@koyndex.com
Date: Sat, 10 Jan 2026 19:58:54 -0500
Subject: 0maha-Steaks Is Giving You A Steak SampIer - OnIy 500 Remain - Get It
 Now
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The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting long stripes across the wooden floor. I stretched, listening to the distant hum of the city beginning its day. The coffee machine gurgled to life, a familiar and comforting sound. On the counter, a notepad lay open, filled with sketches of garden layouts from the weekend. The idea of planting herbs had taken root, perhaps some rosemary and thyme. A breeze from the slightly open window carried the scent of damp earth from the neighbor's watering. My phone buzzed softly with a reminder about the book club meeting. The novel this month was a dense historical piece, and I was only halfway through. I made a mental note to read a few chapters during lunch. The cat wove figure-eights around my ankles, purring insistently until I filled her bowl. It was a quiet, ordinary start, the kind of morning that felt like a deep breath. Later, I planned to walk to the library. I enjoy the quiet there, the smell of old paper and the soft rustle of pages. Sometimes I'll just browse the travel section, imagining places I've never been. The librarian, an older woman with kind eyes and glasses on a chain, always has a good recommendation. Last time it was a collection of essays about the night sky. I should return that today. The walk is pleasant, past the bakery with its always-tempting aroma and the small park where people walk their dogs. I like to watch the dogs, each with their own unique personality. It's a simple routine, but it grounds me. The day stretches ahead, full of small, manageable tasks and the potential for little surprises. A friend mentioned trying a new recipe for dinner, something with lentils and spices. I might give it a try. Cooking is a form of meditation for me, the chopping and stirring a way to quiet the mind. The key is to be present in these moments, to not let the hours slip by unnoticed. Even the mundane can hold a certain beauty if you pay attention. The way the steam rises from the coffee cup, the pattern of light on the wall, the sound of the cat contentedly eating. These are the threads that make up the fabric of a day.
OMAHA STEAKS
Exceptional cuts, delivered to your kitchen
A Gourmet Sampler from Our Kitchen
Omaha Steaks is providing a selection of our gourmet sampler boxes to participants. There are 500 samplers available through this program, and each is provided at no charge to the recipient. This is limited to one sampler per household. Please note this opportunity concludes tomorrow.
What You Can Expect
Each cut in the sampler is hand-selected by our team and immediately flash-frozen. This process preserves the texture and flavor from our facility directly to you. You will not be billed for the sampler if you are selected.
The contents of the sampler are listed below. This collection represents a variety of our most appreciated cuts.
Inside Your Box
• Four Filet Mignons
• Four Ribeye Steaks
• Six Top Sirloins
• Four New York Strip Steaks
Samplers are distributed based on program allocation.
See Your Sampler Details
We appreciate your interest in Omaha Steaks and our approach to quality.
The old oak tree in the backyard was her favorite thinking spot. Its branches spread wide, offering shade on even the hottest summer afternoons. She'd bring a blanket and a book, though she often ended up just watching the clouds drift by. The tree had been there long before the house, a silent witness to decades of change. She wondered about the people who might have sat under it a hundred years ago. Did they have the same worries, the same hopes Probably not exactly, but perhaps the fundamental things were similar. The desire for connection, for a moment of peace, for something beautiful to look at. A squirrel scampered up the trunk, pausing to chitter at her before disappearing into the leaves. The wind picked up, rustling the pages of her unread book. It was a pleasant sound, like a soft whisper. She thought about the conversation she'd had with her neighbor earlier. They'd talked about the local bird population and the new coffee shop opening downtown. Simple, neighborly talk. It felt important, that small thread of community. Later, she planned to call her sister. They lived in different time zones, so finding the right moment was a small puzzle. They usually talked about nothing and everything, their conversations meandering like a slow river. It was something she looked forward to all week. The sun began its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. She decided to go inside and start preparing dinner. The simple act of chopping vegetables was calming. She put on some music, an old jazz record that crackled with warmth. The cat followed her into the kitchen, hoping for a stray piece of carrot. It was in these quiet, unremarkable rituals that she found her day taking shape. There was no grand event, no dramatic news, just the steady rhythm of a life being lived. She found a certain strength in that rhythm, a reassurance in the predictable and the mundane. After dinner, she might write a letter. Actual pen and paper. It was a dying art, she knew, but there was something tangible and personal about it. She liked choosing the stationery, the feel of the pen gliding across the page. She would write to an old friend from college, updating them on the small details of her life. The tree, the squirrel, the new recipe for soup she'd tried. It was these details, she believed, that truly told the story of a person. Not the big achievements, but the texture of their everyday. The letter finished, she would seal the envelope and place it by the door to mail tomorrow. The evening would wind down with a cup of tea and perhaps a few more chapters of that book. The day, simple and full, would come to a close.

http://www.koyndex.com/controlsps

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The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting long stripes across the wooden floor. I stretched, listening to the distant hum of the city beginning its day. The coffee machine gurgled to life, a familiar and comforting sound. On the counter, a notepad lay open, filled with sketches of garden layouts from the weekend. The idea of planting herbs had taken root, perhaps some rosemary and thyme. A breeze from the slightly open window carried the scent of damp earth from the neighbor's watering. My phone buzzed softly with a reminder about the book club meeting. The novel this month was a dense historical piece, and I was only halfway through. I made a mental note to read a few chapters during lunch. The cat wove figure-eights around my ankles, purring insistently until I filled her bowl. It was a quiet, ordinary start, the kind of morning that felt like a deep breath. Later, I planned to walk to the library. I enjoy the quiet there, the smell of old paper and the soft rustle of pages. Sometimes I'll just browse the travel section, imagining places I've never been. The librarian, an older woman with kind eyes and glasses on a chain, always has a good recommendation. Last time it was a collection of essays about the night sky. I should return that today. The walk is pleasant, past the bakery with its always-tempting aroma and the small park where people walk their dogs. I like to watch the dogs, each with their own unique personality. It's a simple routine, but it grounds me. The day stretches ahead, full of small, manageable tasks and the potential for little surprises. A friend mentioned trying a new recipe for dinner, something with lentils and spices. I might give it a try. Cooking is a form of meditation for me, the chopping and stirring a way to quiet the mind. The key is to be present in these moments, to not let the hours slip by unnoticed. Even the mundane can hold a certain beauty if you pay attention. The way the steam rises from the coffee cup, the pattern of light on the wall, the sound of the cat contentedly eating. These are the threads that make up the fabric of a day.
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<table role="presentation" width="100%" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" style="max-width:600px;margin:0 auto;">
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<div style="font-size:42px;font-weight:700;letter-spacing:-0.5px;color:#7a1519;line-height:1;font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;">OMAHA STEAKS</div>
<div style="font-size:15px;color:#6d6d6d;margin-top:8px;letter-spacing:0.5px;font-style:italic;">Exceptional cuts, delivered to your kitchen</div>
</td>
</tr>
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<td>
<table role="presentation" width="100%" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" style="border-top:3px solid #b88d3a;margin:20px 0;"></table>
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<td style="padding:15px 30px 25px;background-color:#ffffff;border-radius:8px 8px 0 0;border:1px solid #d8d0c7;">
<h1 style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;font-size:28px;color:#2a2a2a;margin-top:0;margin-bottom:15px;line-height:1.3;">A Gourmet Sampler from Our Kitchen</h1>
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<p style="margin:0 0 10px 0;font-size:16px;line-height:1.6;color:#3a3a3a;">Omaha Steaks is providing a selection of our gourmet sampler boxes to participants. There are 500 samplers available through this program, and each is provided at no charge to the recipient. This is limited to one sampler per household. Please note this opportunity concludes tomorrow.</p>
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<h2 style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;font-size:22px;color:#2a2a2a;margin-top:0;margin-bottom:20px;">What You Can Expect</h2>
<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:1.6;color:#3a3a3a;margin-bottom:20px;">Each cut in the sampler is hand-selected by our team and immediately flash-frozen. This process preserves the texture and flavor from our facility directly to you. You will not be billed for the sampler if you are selected.</p>
<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:1.6;color:#3a3a3a;margin-bottom:30px;">The contents of the sampler are listed below. This collection represents a variety of our most appreciated cuts.</p>
<div style="margin:30px 0;">
<table role="presentation" width="100%" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0">
<tr>
<td style="padding:0;vertical-align:top;">
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<strong style="font-size:18px;color:#2a2a2a;">Inside Your Box</strong>
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<div style="font-size:15px;color:#3a3a3a;">• Four Filet Mignons</div>
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<td style="width:50%;padding:15px 20px;background-color:#ffffff;border-bottom:1px solid #e3dbd2;">
<div style="font-size:15px;color:#3a3a3a;">• Four Ribeye Steaks</div>
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<div style="font-size:15px;color:#3a3a3a;">• Six Top Sirloins</div>
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<div style="font-size:15px;color:#3a3a3a;">• Four New York Strip Steaks</div>
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<p style="font-size:14px;line-height:1.5;color:#787878;font-style:italic;text-align:center;margin-top:25px;">Samplers are distributed based on program allocation.</p>
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<td style="padding:35px 30px;background-color:#ffffff;border-left:1px solid #d8d0c7;border-right:1px solid #d8d0c7;border-bottom:1px solid #d8d0c7;border-radius:0 0 8px 8px;text-align:center;">
<a href="http://www.koyndex.com/controlsps" style="background-color:#7a1519;color:#ffffff;font-size:18px;font-weight:bold;text-decoration:none;padding:18px 40px;border-radius:50px;display:inline-block;line-height:1;box-shadow:0 3px 8px rgba(122, 21, 25, 0.2);">See Your Sampler Details</a>
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<p style="font-size:15px;line-height:1.6;color:#5a5a5a;margin-bottom:25px;">We appreciate your interest in Omaha Steaks and our approach to quality.</p>
<div style="height:4px;background-color:#7a1519;width:120px;margin:0 auto;border-radius:2px;"></div>
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The old oak tree in the backyard was her favorite thinking spot. Its branches spread wide, offering shade on even the hottest summer afternoons. She'd bring a blanket and a book, though she often ended up just watching the clouds drift by. The tree had been there long before the house, a silent witness to decades of change. She wondered about the people who might have sat under it a hundred years ago. Did they have the same worries, the same hopes Probably not exactly, but perhaps the fundamental things were similar. The desire for connection, for a moment of peace, for something beautiful to look at. A squirrel scampered up the trunk, pausing to chitter at her before disappearing into the leaves. The wind picked up, rustling the pages of her unread book. It was a pleasant sound, like a soft whisper. She thought about the conversation she'd had with her neighbor earlier. They'd talked about the local bird population and the new coffee shop opening downtown. Simple, neighborly talk. It felt important, that small thread of community. Later, she planned to call her sister. They lived in different time zones, so finding the right moment was a small puzzle. They usually talked about nothing and everything, their conversations meandering like a slow river. It was something she looked forward to all week. The sun began its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. She decided to go inside and start preparing dinner. The simple act of chopping vegetables was calming. She put on some music, an old jazz record that crackled with warmth. The cat followed her into the kitchen, hoping for a stray piece of carrot. It was in these quiet, unremarkable rituals that she found her day taking shape. There was no grand event, no dramatic news, just the steady rhythm of a life being lived. She found a certain strength in that rhythm, a reassurance in the predictable and the mundane. After dinner, she might write a letter. Actual pen and paper. It was a dying art, she knew, but there was something tangible and personal about it. She liked choosing the stationery, the feel of the pen gliding across the page. She would write to an old friend from college, updating them on the small details of her life. The tree, the squirrel, the new recipe for soup she'd tried. It was these details, she believed, that truly told the story of a person. Not the big achievements, but the texture of their everyday. The letter finished, she would seal the envelope and place it by the door to mail tomorrow. The evening would wind down with a cup of tea and perhaps a few more chapters of that book. The day, simple and full, would come to a close.
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