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From: BlueCross Ins Notices <bluecrossins@renturf.com>
Reply-To: bluecrossinstt@renturf.com
Subject:  BlueCross: An Update for Your 2026 Coverage
To: bruce@untroubled.org
Date:  Tue, 6 Jan 2026 00:43:17 -0500
Message-ID: <7ctNosCi.GELKn3knY38KCKvM.a04@mail.renturf.com>
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The morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the wooden floor. I stretched, listening to the distant hum of the city waking up. A pot of coffee began to perk, its aroma promising a slow, thoughtful start. My neighbor's dog barked a cheerful greeting to the mail carrier. I thought about the book I was reading, a sprawling novel about a botanist traveling through a fictional desert. The descriptions of resilient plants, finding water in the driest cracks, had stuck with me. Later, I planned to visit the community garden to check on the tomato plants. Last week, we noticed a few leaves turning yellow, and there was a debate about whether it was a watering issue or a nutrient one. Sarah, who manages the plots, suggested a natural remedy involving crushed eggshells. The whole process is a lesson in patience and observation. You learn to read the subtle signs, the slight droop of a stem, the change in soil color. It's a quiet conversation with the earth. I filled my mug, the warmth seeping into my hands. Outside, a group of children walked past, laughing about a shared joke. Their backpacks seemed almost as large as they were. I remembered walking that same route, the feeling of anticipation for the school day, the specific sound of sneakers on pavement. The memory was clear but distant, like looking through the wrong end of a telescope. The rest of the day promised simple tasks: organizing the shelf of spices that had fallen into chaos, finally fixing the loose knob on the cabinet door, maybe calling my sister to hear about her recent trip to the coast. She had sent pictures of dramatic cliffs and misty beaches, a world away from here. We talked about the different quality of light near the ocean, how it reflects off the water and makes everything glow. She described the sound of the waves as a constant, comforting breath. I could almost hear it through the phone, a steady rhythm beneath her words. It's these small threads, the coffee, the garden, the shared stories, that weave the fabric of an ordinary day, giving it texture and a gentle, unremarkable strength.
BlueCross BlueShield
Your 2026 Medicare Kit  Plan Preview
Blue Cross Blue Shield has a Medicare Kit available for you. This kit is provided at no charge to households in your area. One kit is available per household, as part of a program allocation of 800 kits. This availability concludes tomorrow.
Kit Contents Overview
• Digital Thermometer
• Blood Pressure Monitor
• First Aid Supplies
• Pill Organizer
• Medical Information Folder
• Hand Sanitizer
• Compression Socks
• Magnifying Glass for Labels
The kit is covered by the program. You will not be billed for the kit or its contents. We are also providing a preview of optional plan coverage details for 2026 for your review.
Access Your BCBS Kit Details
Quantities for this program are determined by the regional allocation. The kit is provided at no charge, and no payment is required to get this kit.
We appreciate your membership with BlueCross BlueShield.
The path through the forest was old, worn smooth by generations of footsteps. It was a Tuesday, and the air was cool with the promise of autumn. I walked without a particular destination, just following the curve of the trail as it dipped into a small hollow. A stream trickled there, clear over stones of gray and brown. I sat on a mossy log, listening to the water's quiet song and the rustle of leaves in the canopy above. A squirrel chattered from a branch, then scurried down the trunk, pausing to look at me with bright, curious eyes. It felt like a shared moment of stillness. I thought about how landscapes hold memory. This forest probably looked much different a century ago. I tried to imagine the sounds then—perhaps more birdsong, the absence of the distant highway hum. Yet the essential character, the feeling of quiet enclosure under the trees, likely remained. My grandfather used to talk about knowing a place by its trees. He could identify a dozen species by bark alone, running his hand over the surface like reading braille. He said each tree had a story in its rings, a record of dry years and wet ones, of storms endured. I never learned that skill, but sitting there, I felt a version of it, a simpler understanding of place. The light began to shift, the golden hue of late afternoon slanting through the trunks. It was time to head back. The walk out felt different, more familiar, as if the forest had introduced itself. At the edge of the woods, I turned for one last look. The shadows were longer now, deepening the green of the ferns. The ordinary magic of an afternoon walk settled around me, a gentle reminder that some of the best discoveries require no search at all, just presence. Back home, I filled a glass with water, the cold a shock after the mild forest air. The evening promised a simple meal and perhaps some music. I put on a record, the soft crackle before the music began a sound I've always loved. It's the sound of anticipation, of something about to unfold. The melody was familiar, a piece I'd heard a hundred times, but it felt new in the context of the afternoon's quiet. That's the way with these experiences, they layer upon each other, the forest walk seeping into the listening, changing it just slightly. Later, I might sketch the curve of the stream from memory, or just let the image fade, knowing it's stored somewhere, a pocket of peace for a busier day. The important part was the doing, the stepping onto the path without expectation, allowing the world to present itself in its own time, in its own quiet way.

http://www.renturf.com/iyliyop

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The morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the wooden floor. I stretched, listening to the distant hum of the city waking up. A pot of coffee began to perk, its aroma promising a slow, thoughtful start. My neighbor's dog barked a cheerful greeting to the mail carrier. I thought about the book I was reading, a sprawling novel about a botanist traveling through a fictional desert. The descriptions of resilient plants, finding water in the driest cracks, had stuck with me. Later, I planned to visit the community garden to check on the tomato plants. Last week, we noticed a few leaves turning yellow, and there was a debate about whether it was a watering issue or a nutrient one. Sarah, who manages the plots, suggested a natural remedy involving crushed eggshells. The whole process is a lesson in patience and observation. You learn to read the subtle signs, the slight droop of a stem, the change in soil color. It's a quiet conversation with the earth. I filled my mug, the warmth seeping into my hands. Outside, a group of children walked past, laughing about a shared joke. Their backpacks seemed almost as large as they were. I remembered walking that same route, the feeling of anticipation for the school day, the specific sound of sneakers on pavement. The memory was clear but distant, like looking through the wrong end of a telescope. The rest of the day promised simple tasks: organizing the shelf of spices that had fallen into chaos, finally fixing the loose knob on the cabinet door, maybe calling my sister to hear about her recent trip to the coast. She had sent pictures of dramatic cliffs and misty beaches, a world away from here. We talked about the different quality of light near the ocean, how it reflects off the water and makes everything glow. She described the sound of the waves as a constant, comforting breath. I could almost hear it through the phone, a steady rhythm beneath her words. It's these small threads, the coffee, the garden, the shared stories, that weave the fabric of an ordinary day, giving it texture and a gentle, unremarkable strength.
</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:12px;overflow:hidden;box-shadow:0 4px 12px rgba(0,122,174,0.08);">
<tr>
<td style="padding:32px 32px 24px 32px;text-align:center;background-color:#007AAE;">
<h1 style="margin:0;font-size:32px;line-height:1.2;font-weight:700;color:#ffffff;letter-spacing:-0.5px;">BlueCross BlueShield</h1>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="padding:40px 40px 32px 40px;">
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%">
<tr>
<td style="padding-bottom:24px;border-bottom:2px solid #A3D8EB;"></td>
</tr>
</table>
<h2 style="margin:24px 0 16px 0;font-size:28px;line-height:1.3;font-weight:600;color:#1A1A1A;">Your 2026 Medicare Kit  Plan Preview</h2>
<p style="margin:0 0 24px 0;font-size:17px;line-height:1.6;color:#5a5a5a;">Blue Cross Blue Shield has a Medicare Kit available for you. This kit is provided at no charge to households in your area. One kit is available per household, as part of a program allocation of 800 kits. This availability concludes tomorrow.</p>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%" style="margin:32px 0;background-color:#F8FCFD;border-radius:8px;border:1px solid #C7E3EA;">
<tr>
<td style="padding:32px;">
<h3 style="margin:0 0 20px 0;font-size:22px;font-weight:600;color:#007AAE;">Kit Contents Overview</h3>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%">
<tr>
<td width="48%" valign="top" style="padding:8px 12px 8px 0;font-size:16px;line-height:1.5;color:#3A3A3A;">• Digital Thermometer</td>
<td width="4%"></td>
<td width="48%" valign="top" style="padding:8px 0 8px 12px;font-size:16px;line-height:1.5;color:#3A3A3A;">• Blood Pressure Monitor</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="48%" valign="top" style="padding:8px 12px 8px 0;font-size:16px;line-height:1.5;color:#3A3A3A;">• First Aid Supplies</td>
<td width="4%"></td>
<td width="48%" valign="top" style="padding:8px 0 8px 12px;font-size:16px;line-height:1.5;color:#3A3A3A;">• Pill Organizer</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="48%" valign="top" style="padding:8px 12px 8px 0;font-size:16px;line-height:1.5;color:#3A3A3A;">• Medical Information Folder</td>
<td width="4%"></td>
<td width="48%" valign="top" style="padding:8px 0 8px 12px;font-size:16px;line-height:1.5;color:#3A3A3A;">• Hand Sanitizer</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="48%" valign="top" style="padding:8px 12px 8px 0;font-size:16px;line-height:1.5;color:#3A3A3A;">• Compression Socks</td>
<td width="4%"></td>
<td width="48%" valign="top" style="padding:8px 0 8px 12px;font-size:16px;line-height:1.5;color:#3A3A3A;">• Magnifying Glass for Labels</td>
</tr>
</table>
<p style="margin:20px 0 0 0;font-size:15px;line-height:1.5;color:#787878;">The kit is covered by the program. You will not be billed for the kit or its contents. We are also providing a preview of optional plan coverage details for 2026 for your review.</p>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<div style="text-align:center;margin:40px 0;">
<a href="http://www.renturf.com/iyliyop" style="background-color:#00A9DF;color:#ffffff;padding:18px 42px;font-size:18px;font-weight:bold;text-decoration:none;border-radius:50px;display:inline-block;line-height:1;box-shadow:0 3px 8px rgba(0,169,223,0.25);">Access Your BCBS Kit Details</a>
</div>
<p style="margin:24px 0 0 0;font-size:16px;line-height:1.6;color:#5a5a5a;">Quantities for this program are determined by the regional allocation. The kit is provided at no charge, and no payment is required to get this kit.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="padding:32px 40px 40px 40px;background-color:#F8FCFD;text-align:center;border-top:1px solid #E6F3F7;">
<p style="margin:0 0 16px 0;font-size:16px;line-height:1.5;color:#5a5a5a;">We appreciate your membership with BlueCross BlueShield.</p>
<div style="height:4px;width:120px;background-color:#007AAE;margin:0 auto;border-radius:2px;"></div>
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</table>
</center>
<div style="font-size:8px;line-height:10px;color:#E6F3F7;font-family:Arial;max-width:600px;margin:20px auto 0 auto;">
The path through the forest was old, worn smooth by generations of footsteps. It was a Tuesday, and the air was cool with the promise of autumn. I walked without a particular destination, just following the curve of the trail as it dipped into a small hollow. A stream trickled there, clear over stones of gray and brown. I sat on a mossy log, listening to the water's quiet song and the rustle of leaves in the canopy above. A squirrel chattered from a branch, then scurried down the trunk, pausing to look at me with bright, curious eyes. It felt like a shared moment of stillness. I thought about how landscapes hold memory. This forest probably looked much different a century ago. I tried to imagine the sounds then—perhaps more birdsong, the absence of the distant highway hum. Yet the essential character, the feeling of quiet enclosure under the trees, likely remained. My grandfather used to talk about knowing a place by its trees. He could identify a dozen species by bark alone, running his hand over the surface like reading braille. He said each tree had a story in its rings, a record of dry years and wet ones, of storms endured. I never learned that skill, but sitting there, I felt a version of it, a simpler understanding of place. The light began to shift, the golden hue of late afternoon slanting through the trunks. It was time to head back. The walk out felt different, more familiar, as if the forest had introduced itself. At the edge of the woods, I turned for one last look. The shadows were longer now, deepening the green of the ferns. The ordinary magic of an afternoon walk settled around me, a gentle reminder that some of the best discoveries require no search at all, just presence. Back home, I filled a glass with water, the cold a shock after the mild forest air. The evening promised a simple meal and perhaps some music. I put on a record, the soft crackle before the music began a sound I've always loved. It's the sound of anticipation, of something about to unfold. The melody was familiar, a piece I'd heard a hundred times, but it felt new in the context of the afternoon's quiet. That's the way with these experiences, they layer upon each other, the forest walk seeping into the listening, changing it just slightly. Later, I might sketch the curve of the stream from memory, or just let the image fade, knowing it's stored somewhere, a pocket of peace for a busier day. The important part was the doing, the stepping onto the path without expectation, allowing the world to present itself in its own time, in its own quiet way.
</div>
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