Call Me Omar

The weekend has provided me with much to say about ice, proper footwear (for ice), warm attire (for ice), the stability of electric power (re: ice), the effect of gravity upon trees (encased in ice) and even a recipe (that does not include ice). However, I am compelled to confess something that must be true, because I read it in an email that came from the far reaches of the Internet(s): I love tents. Really. I must. Otherwise, why would I receive this unsolicited email:

To Whom It May Concern,

We have learned from the Internet that you are interested in tents.

Well, I never knew it, but I guess it is true. I love tents. I would share the website of the friendly company that sent this email, one that specializes in (what luck!) tents, but this is my own never-before-known and unheard-of fascination. Not yours. Get your own.

Note: Somehow, this post decided not to be published on Sunday.

  • Amanda

    Where the heck does Omar the Tentmaker come from? Is that some sort of literary thing? Or is it just a southern thing? Like, where fat women get their clothes. That’s the context I’ve always heard it in. What do you know about it?