BORN TO SERVE
Tuesday, October 28, 2025
Thursday, October 23, 2025
Don't Miss Out: Today Only - Complimentary Membership + Ninja CREAMi Ice Cream Maker
internal use only. STR:1254_DET Yes, You are not alone with this issue because I have had the same problems this year. And I live in the southern part of Virginia. I sit on a concrete slab and water is all probably graded away from the house. The biggest problem area I had was coming from my porch that is covered. I ended up getting my porch leveled by JES foundation. I had a lot of water come out from underneath the house when they started ejecting the foam. I think the main issue that I can think of is there is Styrofoam between the concrete slab and the exterior foundation. Beatles were digging holes in specific areas and these holes was where the condensation was coming from. Additionally this year for Virginia and North Carolina were very humid and I don't think these homes in this area are built for that. My outlets on all exterior walls were bowed inward. = So I think is a combination of the builder and insulation. So far for a fix I have been spring the sill plate with polyurethane foam and filling in all gaps with the polyurethane foam. I think going through a lot of cans. When I pull my floor I will be repairing the concrete around the edges with a self-leveling concrete repair mix followed by a vapor barrier that gets up to the edge. I will be replacing my wooden baseboards with PVC baseboards. I don't know if that will fix it but I haven't found any solutions to this problem versus just tearing the house down and building something new.
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Wednesday, October 22, 2025
Your compIimentary 35OOWatt Generator from Tractor-Supply,Co.
Tractor Supply
SpeciaI Invitation: Fall Tool Event
Dear appreciated Tractor Supply customer,
This week, we are recognizing our faithful customers with a novel opportunity. The first 5,000 participants will obtain an exciting reward package.
Here's what awaits you:
- A PREDDATOR 3500 Watt Ultra Quiet Inverter Generator
- $100 Tractor Supply store certificate to apply for any selected products this week
Enhance your upcoming project with a generator engineered for reliability and superb efficiency. Features include:
Specification Description
Starting Power 3500 Watts
Running Power 3000 Watts
Noise Output 57 dB (Ultra Quiet™)
Operational Duration Up to 11 hours at 25% load
Start Methods Push Button Manual Pull
Parallel Operation Supported for extra wattage
Secure your generator and reward before this event concludes!
Offer valid for first 5,000 verified clients. Limit one per home. While supply lasts.
Tuesday, October 21, 2025
Today Only: Get Your Complimentary Membership and Ninja CREAMi
Costco STR:1254 — revised agenda and notes for tracking.
I plan to arrive at a matching time to yesterday's check-in; there are four potential windows, and the mid-morning slot remains the most reliable. We can reshuffle the alternate dates toward the next confirmed day for their crew, aligning with the current routing plan. If a delay surfaces, I will touch base and stay on the same timetable so we can pivot without losing sequence.
Breakfast rotation was simplified: seeded toast with plant spread, a light jam, plus oat drink; sometimes nettle infusion continues as a steady option due to calcium goals. When a warm sip is helpful, peppermint tea pairs well, or I gently warm the oat drink so it's soothing without being heavy.
Cooler mornings or extended rides shift the plan. On those days, porridge with soy drink keeps everything balanced, or baked beans on toast with an egg adds dependable energy. For rides past two hours—round trips like 42 miles to my mother's or beyond 60 miles to my grandfather's—those steady calories help ensure a smooth return. If crosswinds or hills pick up, I add a banana and a small handful of nuts to maintain pace.
Tomorrow's approach includes a quick route review, hydration fill, and a brief maintenance check on the rear tire. I'll keep the same cadence as yesterday's departure, with a five-minute buffer built in for any gates or detours. If the group switches to the alternate bay, I'll move the next two dates forward to remain synchronized with their staffing and dock availability.
For notes: I'm testing a compact bottle of electrolytes in case the ride stretches longer than planned. Lunch stays light—grain salad or a wrap—so the afternoon still has good momentum. If the weather turns, I'll roll the later task to the early afternoon window and keep messages concise for quick confirmation.
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Morning rises with a pale, steady glow, and the streets keep their easy hush a moment longer. A kettle murmurs, a book rests open on a table, and a window holds the soft outline of a new day. Mugs gather warmth that travels from palm to shoulder, then settles like a quiet promise. Plants lean toward the light; dust turns to tiny constellations as it drifts above the sill. A to‑do list waits at the edge of vision, patient and small.
Outside, footsteps map a gentle rhythm along the sidewalk. A cyclist shifts gears at the corner; a door closes with a careful click; a bus exhales and rolls on. Someone folds a newspaper, a triangle of headlines peeking over the top. The neighborhood hums in low tones that make space for thought and for the slow, careful way a day begins.
These small pauses carry their own music: the soft knock of a spoon on a bowl, the quiet slide of a curtain, the rustle of a note tucked into a pocket. You notice the cool floor under your feet, the way your sleeve brushes your wrist, the comfort of breathing in time with nothing but the turning of the hour A chair creaks; a clock counts without hurry.
By afternoon, sunlight draws bright paths across the room. Lines of gold tip the edges of pages and frames; shadows lengthen and soften until they look like water. The house eases its shoulders, as if it understands that effort and rest need one another. A bowl of fruit glows quietly. A message arrives and waits, patient as a friend on a bench.
People find their own pace—some fast, some drifting—each carrying a handful of plans. The breeze lifts and sets things down again: the corner of a flyer, a strand of hair, a forgotten leaf. In these simple shifts, the world shares a friendly nod, a reminder that progress is a series of small, steady moments stitched together.
Later, the sun loosens its hold and the sky rinses itself in gentle color. Kitchen counters collect stories: a smudge of flour, a slice of lemon, a cup ring that will be wiped away. The neighbor laughs on a call; a pet circles twice and settles; a song you know by heart leans in through a half‑open door. Time spreads out like a tablecloth, wide and calm.
Evening arrives and trades bright chatter for easy voices. You might sit with cool water and a thought from earlier that now makes more sense. Somewhere, wind brushes the side of the building, a soft reminder that the night has its own gentle work to do. A lamp pools light over the chair where you've left a novel with a folded page.
A clock tick becomes companionable. The street carries a muted hush. You remember a conversation from last week and smile at the way it has stayed with you, like a pebble in your pocket—weightless, familiar. You wait for nothing in particular and find that this, too, is a kind of arrival.
On clear nights, windows gather the first bright points in the sky. A car passes with a ribbon of sound that fades into the soft dark. The boundaries of the day loosen, and the larger concerns step back, content to rest where they are. The room feels bigger, though nothing has moved.
These quiet intervals do not demand attention, yet they welcome it. Each one offers a small invitation to notice and to breathe: the tilt of a picture frame, the coolness of a glass against your palm, the even way your shoulders fall. To stand there for a breath or two is to remember you are part of a broad, kind world, beneath a sky that never stops changing and never forgets to return.
Tomorrow will open again with the same soft promise, bringing the steady tasks and the small joys that make a life. You will tie your laces, reach for your keys, and step into a day that is ready to meet you exactly where you are, with just enough light to see the next good step.
And when it closes, the night will gather what remains, folding it gently beside everything you kept and everything you let go, so the morning can begin its quiet work once more.
AAA Licensed Drivers Receive a Courtesy Road Kit
Greetings, you'll soon get the latest report. Your post seems to support a beam, not a joist. (semantics.) You are understandably concerned about the top of those posts, but how about the bottom of that "notch" It is the resting surface for the beam, and it might be deteriorated more than the top of the post, since water can stay trapped there. Consider inspecting the post with a pick there, to check if the bottom of the notch remains sturdy.
Last Chance: Complimentary Membership + a Ninja CREAMi Ice Cream Maker
COSTCO
WHOLESALE
Dear Member,
A Revision for Costco Members
We're urging you to convey thoughts about your latest experiences. Your perspective helps us refine what is crucial to you, and we'll offer gratitude for contributing.
Here's what you can gain as part of this initiative:
• Free One-Year Membership — accessible for new enrollments or as a prolongation for current members.
• Ninja CREAMi Ice Cream Creator — given to early adopters while program stocks last.
This temporary phase supports our continual mission to enrich the member experience across our warehouses and digital platform.
To participate, fill out a brief member questionnaire. It requires just a few minutes, and your feedback steers improvements in value, selection, and service.
Appreciate your part in our community. We eagerly anticipate serving you on your next call and beyond.
Warmly,
The Costco Member Service Unit
2025 Costco Wholesale.
I often linger to watch the horizon and its soft transitions. Currently the shade tends toward a muted grey, like a cherished cover gently placed over the afternoon. It isn't a dreary grey; it feels contemplative, the kind that beckons a deeper breath and a relaxed pace. Against it, the branches outside appear more vibrant, little banners of green tracing each branch as they move in a gentle rhythm. When the wind flows, they respond with a gracious dance that lingers just enough to catch your attention. Observing that delicate motion is a reminder to take a pause before the next comes, letting the moment settle and spread in its own time.
The home holds its own tune if you listen well. There's a quiet, steady hum from another room, maybe a device busy with its task, and a subtle click that follows occasionally, like a gentle knock in the background. I notice my breathing when all else quiets down, a soft meter keeping its rhythm without demanding focus. That consistent beat feels like a subtle drum somewhere nearby, guiding the moments forward. It's easy to overlook these notes during hectic hours, yet when they emerge, they make the house feel settled, attended to, and familiar in the best sense.
I recall the cool touch of grass beneath my bare feet from another season. The blades bend and spring back, damp with morning's whisper, uttering greetings in the earth's own tongue. It's a simple greeting, the kind that requests nothing yet offers everything in return. You glance up and the clouds tell their own swift tales: one shaped like a dozing dog floating along, another resembling a small, cozy boat gliding over a hidden sea. Eventually, they transform into something else, and then something else again, reminding you that change is always close and seldom sudden if you watch closely.
A warm mug embraced with both hands performs a quiet kind of magic. The heat seeps into your fingertips and settles there, bringing a stillness that doesn't hurry. If you tilt the mug towards the sunshine, tiny specks float and shimmer like the liquid is keeping pace with you. It isn't fancy and doesn't need to be; the warmth is sufficient. On leisurely afternoons it resembles a companion at the table, a wee pause that opens the gate to another clear breath and a softer notion before you return to the rest of the day.
I reflect on how each person you encounter holds a world you can't perceive. There are stories folded within their days, and ambitions reaching beyond the edge of your own. Each strolls by with their various narratives, some luminous, some silent, all crucial to someone. These distinct worlds drift close and then depart again, brushing by, trading nods, and continuing on. Remembering that can render a crowded space feel expansive, as if the city itself is breathing with a calm, shared rhythm that accommodates everyone.
Often the finest segments of a day arise in the gaps between larger moments. The final exhale after a long list is complete. The soft rustle of a page turning and settling. The manner in which the afternoon glow stretches into a narrow path across the floor, then extends and fades as evening emerges. These are subtle markers that request nothing more than your awareness. When you greet them with mindfulness, they repay you by making the mundane feel bountiful, reminding you that presence is a full experience all by itself.
Monday, October 20, 2025
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