I have often referred to the mailbox as my top source of adventure every day, considering the mysteries that are often found there. (See Posts #359, #391, and #397). I admit to not being much of an outdoors-man or a risk taker, so I don’t often take chances like sky diving, mountain climbing, and even hiking to generate a rush of adrenaline.  Some may even say that my life is boring, despite the fact that I like to travel a lot. I spend my days wondering if my retirement nest egg will eventually crack under the strain of travel expenses and souvenirs. I seem content sitting inside alone watching documentaries and sports, yet there is this wandering spirit trapped inside me. I need to go here, see that, plan this, and think about my next destination. There’s always a travel brochure in my mailbox.

The mail box has weighed heavily on my mind these past few weeks. The certified letter to my “second family” was delivered and signed for yesterday, so I’m anxiously awaiting a reply. I also find myself ordering more things on-line so there will always be something exciting in the box. I haven’t yet gotten to the point where I’m staring out the window, waiting for the postman to arrive. I remember teasing my grandfather about his “old man” quirks like monitoring the electric meter and hearing the brakes of the mail truck squeak. These were things he looked forward to each day, and I’m beginning to understand. My other grandfather was a Postmaster, so maybe that has something to do with my fascination of mail. His daughter and my mother were both stamp collectors, and I am the beneficiary of their collections. I prefer collecting sports memorabilia instead, and am awaiting some packages and letters related to this interest. To me, the mailbox is like a treasure chest, and I look forward to opening it each day to see what’s inside. Sometimes I only know that it’s Sunday or a holiday because there is no mail to collect.

I should probably order a food service like Blue Apron, so I can also get food delivered to my door every day. My wife is tiring of my slow-cooker recipes. The thrill of getting a night off from kitchen duties is starting to fade. Last night she felt that the ribs I prepared were too soggy and suggested that I break away from “stewing” expensive cuts of meat. Granted, the slow-cooker has become a crutch, a lazy way to fulfill my weekly cooking obligation, but I also like soft, mushy food that doesn’t require a lot of chewing. The dentist has pointed out that my bite is off and that my teeth don’t come together on the left side of my mouth. All my chewing is done on the right side, if I chew at all. People are always astounded at how quickly I eat, and this is probably because I don’t like to chew. I like mashed potatoes, soft breads, soups, puddings, donuts, and other things that melt in my mouth. Plus, I’ve pulled off one too many crowns by eating chewy candies. For my wife’s sake, and to paraphrase Santana, “I need to change my cooking ways.”

Tonight would normally be “Date Night,” and neither of us would have to worry about cooking. Instead, she’s taking a client to The Book of Mormons and I’m meeting a friend at Buffalo Wild Wings to watch an IU Basketball game. Tomorrow night will be “Date Night,” even though we still have a lot of “soggy” ribs left in the refrigerator. I will have Sunday morning’s leftover breakfast sausage for lunch today, and find a special treat for our dog Tally, who’s celebrating her 8th birthday today. Normally, I might walk her down to Starbuck’s, but once again it’s raining here in Portlandia. I did sweep and dust the house this morning, and made an appointment for ZeroreZ to come tomorrow to steam-clean some upholstery, furniture, and floors. I had a few bucks left over after paying off some mounting credit card bills, mostly related to travel, by selling off a portion of my IRA. I’m spending it a lot quicker than it took to save it, but travel is what it’s for, after all. We also made some arrangements to hire a new house-sitter for the pets, since our regular options were not available. It’s just another travel expense when you are pet owners like we are.

I went out and fed the mailbox this morning with some checks to be mailed. I’ve found that an active mailbox is a happy mailbox. It’s the only source of potential treasure that I have, so I want to keep on friendly terms. In the meantime, I’ll watch some of the true adventurers continue to dig for buried treasure on Oak Island, and follow the Knights Templar bloodbath as they search for the Holy Grail. I’m exhausted just thinking about it!