Some people enjoy watching television, others enjoy playing sports, my beloved hobby is writing weird anecdotes to people. If you are a member of my family, or one of my friends, it is more than likely that you have received this kind of correspondence from me; emails, letters, cards or postcards I send them all.

Roscoe was working on the days when I painstakingly wrote out all the thank you cards from our wedding. Thus my strange may have run a little wild over the paper. I wrote to one dear friend thanking her for the gift of salt and pepper shakers and explained how our previous pepper grinder had met it’s somewhat grisly demise.

On the cream cardstock, I wrote that our old pepper shaker had in a fit of panic, thrown  itself from the top of the spice cabinet to the floor. Roscoe had been cooking a dish with scotch bonnet peppers just below. We think that the little pepper grinder confused the hot fumes coming off of the spicy peppers for a fire and so in an effort to preserve it’s life, flung it’s little shaker  self, grinder and all to the ground. However not only had it misjudged the severity of the situation, it also had misjudged the distance and thus it would season our dishes no more.

These are the types of things my family and friends received in the mail from me. Occasionally I decide not to sign the cards and so they’re left wondering what weirdo is sending them this kind of stuff in the mail.

I debated having mail Mondays, but then I thought some people might get confused when Unwashed followers were like “Yeah! It’s Mail Monday!” So the uninitiated might hear “male” and think that this was a blog where on Mondays we act like men and wear flannel shirts and go chop up bears with axes as manly men are want to do. And I really didn’t want to be responsible for people applying fake beards for no reason because they were trying to support my blog.

Then I thought “Throwback Thursdays” like on Holly Madison’s page. However “throwback” intimates that the material is from some time ago and I’m constantly writing new bizarre stuff and sending it to my family so that wouldn’t work.

But then I remembered a story my Great Aunt had told me when I visited her. She was in an IKEA and there was one of those little Swedish horses that was painted beautifully and it would have looked just like any other Swedish horse if it weren’t for the tattoo of the word “Mom” in a heart on one of it’s flanks. A woman who was also shopping at the IKEA walked by this horse and declared it “a travesty!”

So for the rest of that week my Great Aunt and I proclaimed everything “a travesty”. For those who are very attached to the concept of traditional, polite correspondence my writing could be considered “a travesty”. Thus occasionally on a Tuesday, you might read one of my travesties that I’ve sent out to those I know and love.