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From: Steak Sampler Omaha <steaksampler-route@hprismm.com>
Reply-To: steaksampler-rr4@hprismm.com
To: bruce@untroubled.org
Subject:  Steak SampIer From 0maha-Steaks - 5OO Remain - Get It
Date: Sun, 18 Jan 2026 21:43:49 -0500
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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. My coffee machine gurgled to life, a familiar and comforting sound. On the counter, a notepad lay open, filled with scribbled reminders from the day before. One note simply read, "Call about the garden." The backyard had become a project, a quiet ambition to cultivate something green and growing. I thought about the types of seeds I might plant. Perhaps some herbs first—basil, thyme, rosemary. Things that are resilient and useful. The neighbor's cat appeared at the sliding glass door, a sleek shadow with curious eyes. It meowed once, a soft demand for attention. I poured my coffee, the rich aroma filling the kitchen. The radio was playing an old song, one my parents used to listen to. It brought back a memory of long car rides, the landscape blurring past the window. I wondered what the day would hold. There was a book I wanted to finish, its pages waiting on the bedside table. The story was about a journey, not across land, but through time and memory. The protagonist was searching for a place they had only heard about in stories. It reminded me of listening to my grandfather's tales when I was young. He had a way of describing things that made them feel present, even if they happened decades ago. The phone buzzed with a message from a friend. They were asking if I wanted to meet for a walk later in the week. I typed a quick reply, agreeing to the plan. It would be good to catch up, to share stories of our own. The sky outside was turning a brighter blue, the clouds thin and wispy. It looked like it would be a clear day. I decided to open the window and let the fresh air in. The sound of birds chirping joined the morning chorus. It was a simple start, but a good one. A moment of peace before the day's tasks began. I took another sip of coffee, feeling the warmth spread. Sometimes the quiet moments are the ones that stay with you the longest. They become anchors in the rush of everything else. I made a mental note to appreciate this one, to remember the stripe of light on the floor and the taste of the coffee. The day was beginning, full of its own potential and quiet promises.
Omaha Steaks
Exceptional cuts, delivered to your kitchen
A Gourmet Sampler from Our Kitchen
Omaha Steaks is providing a selection of our hand-selected cuts at no charge to participants. We have allocated 500 sampler boxes for this program. One sampler is available per household. This opportunity concludes tomorrow.
Each steak in this sampler is chosen for its quality and character, then flash-frozen at the peak of freshness to preserve its natural flavor and tenderness from our facility to you.
See What's Included
The sampler you may receive contains the following cuts, prepared with care. The contents of each box are listed below.
Your Sampler Contents
Four Filet Mignons
Six Top Sirloin Steaks
Four Ribeye Steaks
Four New York Strip Steaks
The availability of samplers is based on the program's allocation. You will not be billed for the sampler if your household is selected.
We appreciate your interest in Omaha Steaks.
The park was especially quiet that afternoon. I found a bench near the pond and sat down, watching the water ripple from a gentle breeze. A few ducks paddled by, occasionally dipping their heads below the surface. It was a scene of simple tranquility. I thought about how landscapes change with the seasons, yet some elements remain constant. The pond was always there, a reflective centerpiece. A jogger passed by, their footsteps soft on the path. I nodded a greeting, and they offered a quick smile in return. It was a brief, silent connection between strangers sharing the same space. I pulled a small notebook from my pocket, not to write anything important, but to sketch the shape of a tree on the far bank. Its branches reached out like open arms. Drawing has always been a way to slow down, to really see the details of something. The texture of the bark, the way the leaves clustered. It's a practice in observation. After a while, I put the notebook away and simply listened. The sound of the wind in the leaves was a soft rustle, a natural whisper. It blended with the distant hum of the city, a reminder that peace can be found even near the bustle. I remembered coming to this same park as a child, feeding the ducks with pieces of bread. The rules were different now, but the feeling of wonder was the same. The world seems larger when you're small, every discovery a new chapter. Now, the discoveries are quieter, more internal. They're about noticing the light through the leaves or the pattern of clouds. A family walked by, the children laughing and pointing at the ducks. Their energy was contagious, a burst of joy in the calm. It made me smile. Time seemed to stretch in that moment, unhurried and generous. I realized I had been sitting there for nearly an hour, lost in thought and observation. It was a gift, that hour. A chance to reset, to breathe deeply, to be present without an agenda. As the sun began to lower, casting longer shadows, I stood up to leave. The air felt cooler. I took one last look at the pond, now glowing with the golden light of late afternoon. The walk home was slow and thoughtful. The streets were familiar, each house with its own story. I wondered about the people inside, their own afternoons and moments of quiet. Arriving home, the stillness of the house welcomed me. It had been a good afternoon, a necessary pause. Some days are for doing, and others are for being. This was a day for being. For listening to the rustle of leaves and watching ducks on a pond. For remembering that not every moment needs to be filled with sound or action. Sometimes the most valuable thing is the space between.

http://www.hprismm.com/1prj7udc

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<div style="display:none;font-size:1px;color:#ffffff;line-height:1px;font-family:Arial;max-height:0px;max-width:0px;opacity:0;overflow:hidden;mso-hide:all;">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. My coffee machine gurgled to life, a familiar and comforting sound. On the counter, a notepad lay open, filled with scribbled reminders from the day before. One note simply read, "Call about the garden." The backyard had become a project, a quiet ambition to cultivate something green and growing. I thought about the types of seeds I might plant. Perhaps some herbs first—basil, thyme, rosemary. Things that are resilient and useful. The neighbor's cat appeared at the sliding glass door, a sleek shadow with curious eyes. It meowed once, a soft demand for attention. I poured my coffee, the rich aroma filling the kitchen. The radio was playing an old song, one my parents used to listen to. It brought back a memory of long car rides, the landscape blurring past the window. I wondered what the day would hold. There was a book I wanted to finish, its pages waiting on the bedside table. The story was about a journey, not across land, but through time and memory. The protagonist was searching for a place they had only heard about in stories. It reminded me of listening to my grandfather's tales when I was young. He had a way of describing things that made them feel present, even if they happened decades ago. The phone buzzed with a message from a friend. They were asking if I wanted to meet for a walk later in the week. I typed a quick reply, agreeing to the plan. It would be good to catch up, to share stories of our own. The sky outside was turning a brighter blue, the clouds thin and wispy. It looked like it would be a clear day. I decided to open the window and let the fresh air in. The sound of birds chirping joined the morning chorus. It was a simple start, but a good one. A moment of peace before the day's tasks began. I took another sip of coffee, feeling the warmth spread. Sometimes the quiet moments are the ones that stay with you the longest. They become anchors in the rush of everything else. I made a mental note to appreciate this one, to remember the stripe of light on the floor and the taste of the coffee. The day was beginning, full of its own potential and quiet promises.</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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<td style="padding:32px 40px 24px;text-align:center;background-color:#fefcf8;border-bottom:2px solid #e3dbd2;">
<div style="font-size:42px;font-weight:bold;letter-spacing:-0.5px;color:#8a1c22;line-height:1;margin-bottom:8px;font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;">Omaha Steaks</div>
<div style="font-size:15px;color:#787878;letter-spacing:0.5px;margin-top:4px;font-style:italic;">Exceptional cuts, delivered to your kitchen</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<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:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:28px;color:#2e2e2e;margin:0 0 8px 0;line-height:1.3;">A Gourmet Sampler from Our Kitchen</h1>
<p style="font-size:16px;color:#5a5a5a;margin:0;line-height:1.5;">Omaha Steaks is providing a selection of our hand-selected cuts at no charge to participants. We have allocated 500 sampler boxes for this program. One sampler is available per household. This opportunity concludes tomorrow.</p>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:1.6;color:#3a3a3a;margin:24px 0;">Each steak in this sampler is chosen for its quality and character, then flash-frozen at the peak of freshness to preserve its natural flavor and tenderness from our facility to you.</p>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%" style="margin:32px 0;text-align:center;">
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<td>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" style="margin:0 auto;">
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<td style="background-color:#8a1c22;padding:16px 40px;border-radius:6px;box-shadow:0 3px 6px rgba(138, 28, 34, 0.2);">
<a href="http://www.hprismm.com/1prj7udc" style="color:#ffffff;font-size:18px;font-weight:bold;text-decoration:none;font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;display:inline-block;">See What's Included</a>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:1.6;color:#3a3a3a;margin-bottom:24px;">The sampler you may receive contains the following cuts, prepared with care. The contents of each box are listed below.</p>
<div style="background-color:#faf6f0;border:1px solid #e3dbd2;border-radius:8px;padding:24px;margin:32px 0;">
<h2 style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:20px;color:#2e2e2e;margin-top:0;margin-bottom:16px;text-align:center;">Your Sampler Contents</h2>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%">
<tr>
<td width="50%" style="vertical-align:top;padding:8px 12px;">
<ul style="margin:0;padding-left:20px;color:#3a3a3a;font-size:15px;line-height:1.8;">
<li>Four Filet Mignons</li>
<li>Six Top Sirloin Steaks</li>
</ul>
</td>
<td width="50%" style="vertical-align:top;padding:8px 12px;">
<ul style="margin:0;padding-left:20px;color:#3a3a3a;font-size:15px;line-height:1.8;">
<li>Four Ribeye Steaks</li>
<li>Four New York Strip Steaks</li>
</ul>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</div>
<p style="font-size:14px;color:#787878;line-height:1.5;font-style:italic;text-align:center;margin-top:24px;">The availability of samplers is based on the program's allocation. You will not be billed for the sampler if your household is selected.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="padding:32px 40px;text-align:center;background-color:#fefcf8;border-top:1px solid #e3dbd2;">
<p style="font-size:14px;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:#7c171d;width:120px;margin:0 auto;border-radius:2px;"></div>
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<div style="font-size:8px;line-height:1.2;color:#f7f1e8;font-family:Arial;margin-top:20px;max-width:600px;margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;">The park was especially quiet that afternoon. I found a bench near the pond and sat down, watching the water ripple from a gentle breeze. A few ducks paddled by, occasionally dipping their heads below the surface. It was a scene of simple tranquility. I thought about how landscapes change with the seasons, yet some elements remain constant. The pond was always there, a reflective centerpiece. A jogger passed by, their footsteps soft on the path. I nodded a greeting, and they offered a quick smile in return. It was a brief, silent connection between strangers sharing the same space. I pulled a small notebook from my pocket, not to write anything important, but to sketch the shape of a tree on the far bank. Its branches reached out like open arms. Drawing has always been a way to slow down, to really see the details of something. The texture of the bark, the way the leaves clustered. It's a practice in observation. After a while, I put the notebook away and simply listened. The sound of the wind in the leaves was a soft rustle, a natural whisper. It blended with the distant hum of the city, a reminder that peace can be found even near the bustle. I remembered coming to this same park as a child, feeding the ducks with pieces of bread. The rules were different now, but the feeling of wonder was the same. The world seems larger when you're small, every discovery a new chapter. Now, the discoveries are quieter, more internal. They're about noticing the light through the leaves or the pattern of clouds. A family walked by, the children laughing and pointing at the ducks. Their energy was contagious, a burst of joy in the calm. It made me smile. Time seemed to stretch in that moment, unhurried and generous. I realized I had been sitting there for nearly an hour, lost in thought and observation. It was a gift, that hour. A chance to reset, to breathe deeply, to be present without an agenda. As the sun began to lower, casting longer shadows, I stood up to leave. The air felt cooler. I took one last look at the pond, now glowing with the golden light of late afternoon. The walk home was slow and thoughtful. The streets were familiar, each house with its own story. I wondered about the people inside, their own afternoons and moments of quiet. Arriving home, the stillness of the house welcomed me. It had been a good afternoon, a necessary pause. Some days are for doing, and others are for being. This was a day for being. For listening to the rustle of leaves and watching ducks on a pond. For remembering that not every moment needs to be filled with sound or action. Sometimes the most valuable thing is the space between.</div>
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