I aint herd if yer still traypsin’ around whilst some one else does all yer dirty work.

If you made it back to yer job all rite, it shud’nt take long to catch up.

With the soulstiss comin’ on and the sun workin’ dubble time, I reckon you can get in two days in one to make up fer all yer lolly-gaggin’ down in the Lesser 48.

When you was in Allabamma or where ever bein’ a newly wed, I reckon you may not of got out doors all that much.

If you did, I hope you had the scents to keep somethin’ on yer head.

I happen to know you aint much better endowed than me in the hair end of things. And bein’ a Youconner you probly aint useta runnin’ around without yer tooqe on.

Not many worse things than to see a big-time edditor with a southren-fryed brain pan.

In case you did scramble yer noodle and you aint thinkin’ too clear, you otta fit rite in with the folks hangin’ out in Mayo this week end.

Its the silly seeson again, time fer the Midnite Madness. What my old Anny Lake naybor Wilferd calls the Runnin’ of the Bull-headed.

Now it may not be the gods own truth, but when I lived in the Youcon first time round, back 15 years or so, I once herd tell of a feller who got up to some hanky and a bit of panky one nite.

Hard to beleave I know, but he was from Dawsin so it mite of happened.

Anyways when he finely made it back home near breckfast time, his wife lit rite into ‘im.

“Jest what the Sam Hill have you been up to all nite”? she says. Or words to that affeckt.

Wellsir, he figgers the jigs up so he says “Honey I cant tell a lie. I was havin’ a few drinks with some buddys and I met this gal, and Hank Carr was playin’ and we started dancin’ and one thing jest kinda led to a nother.”

Afore he even gets haffways done, she starts to holler. “Horse fethers” she says “you been in Mayo runnin’ that dam marrathon, aint you”?

What I’m sayin’ to you Darroll is, be carefull what you get up to under the midnite sun. It may not be all that good fer yer health.

Things has got gone a tad bit silly hereabouts as well. Maisy took to thinkin’ we need some chickins to make fresh eggs fer angle food cake when we need a brake from them apple pies she keeps stuffin’ down our gizzerds.

Of coarse Eva says they gotta be the organnickal kind and run free like a bunch of teen agers at the Kwanlin Mall.

More work fer yers truely, dang it. Now I gotta go set up a chickin run and lay out grit fer when the little peckers get here.

Like they say, theres no rest fer the wickid.

Yer pal,