Quick note tonight:
Every year for the past three, the wife and I have participated in the Chicago's USPS's letter to Santa Program. I'm not sure how much of a program it is. It works like this: letters that are addressed to Santa are organized my the USPS employees and available for the public to answer. There's easily thousands of these letters that you can thumb through at you leisure. I'm not sure if this is common to other geographic areas, but my guess is most likely is.

So, the wife and I don't have kids, right? Well, a few years back, instead of buying more shit we don't need, we decided to buy for other kids that might need things a little more. It's not a huge deal. We find a few letters where the kids are asking for things like clothes and essentials. We get those and toss in a few toy trucks and what not. They get packed up and certified mailed to the recipient. Honestly, the selfish side of me wishes you could watch the packages arrive. But, that's not the point, right?

Well, this past weekend we grabbed a few letters. I spent a lot of time reviewing requests for Nano's, PSP's, Xbox's, and the like. And then there was the one where Mommy was shot and didn't look so good no more. After some time I ran across a rather unique name that stuck out. I pulled the letter to the side and kept fumbling.

My wife and I collected the winners of the process and sat down to make the final selections. I gave her my finalists without mentioning the familiar name. She glanced at it, looked up at me, and then back down.

Yup, what are the chances of pulling he same Joshura on 107th Ave. two years in a row?

Pretty fucking cool.