Dear B.,

Howdy, amigo, from Crawford, TX. I know you’re busy, which is why I’m writin you this letter and havin Laura scan it into the computer so I can send it by email, and then you can read it on your Blackberrypod while you’re takin a cigarette break or catchin your breath between basketball games or I don’t know. But however it gets there, I hope it gets there if it can (This Reader’s Digest compilation CD of great love songs that Laura sent away for just came in. LOVE it.) And, also, too, I hope this reaches you in well health. Seems like I’ve been hearin a lot about you and health in the news lately. I worry about you, B.

On Wednesdays, Agnes was in charge of the kitchen. She had voodoo hands and could whip up this potato salad that Marcus joked was like sucking the fungus off God’s toes. She made damn fine food, but only on Wednesday, because every other day of the week Agnes worked under Jason, her supervisor, who was

[continue reading…]