At least I had one bright light today: I got a post card from Milwaukee!

When I travel I always buy postcards. Then I send the posts cards to people I know who live too far away to visit. I've gotten depressed knowing that once a person moves more than an hour's drive from friends, it's not likely to hear from them.

Petunia thinks I ought to be sticking post cards in our photo albums instead. Picture postcards have better pictures than the ones I take. She views sending postcards away as a waste of money. Once we leave home, I'm always buying postcards. One of her stranger memories about the first time we went camping was me sitting around the campfire, addressing first fulls of postcards.

When people send me a post card, it perks me up to know someone still remembers me. Often it's people on line that like me but I know that they're not going to physically see me. In a few cases it's "Look it's a postcard from abroad."

Last time I hugged that Milwaukee moma was in 2005 at Pike's Lake, Ohio and I haven't given her a hug since. Hey, she still gets my postcards and still likes me. Between then and now, she married a guy from Scotland, moved to Scotland until she divorced him and returned to Milwaukee. It confirmed my theory, Scotland is the pits.

If I had your mailing address, you could get a postcard too! Put it up on the refrigerator make people wonder why you're getting postcards from Dixie. Among the people on my list are the suicidal. When times get tough, it's nice to get a postcard.

Psst. Want a post card little girl?