I forgot to mention something.

A question this afternoon from Sam’s Aunt Adie prompts me to clarify a certain point regarding The Great Mailbox Caper. I neglected to mention that Silas’ car was NOT the same four-door Ford compact that was parked in front of our house on Thursday — the one that didn’t have any trunk damage so the police officer sneered at my story and refused to knock on my neighbor’s door.

Oddly enough, Silas said his car had no trunk damage, either, so my Einstein cop turned out to have the investigative skills of Inspector Clouseau.

The upshot is, buy a Ford Focus because they’re built like Sherman tanks.

And now I think I’ll whip up a Goofy Fruity Shake in my new blender and watch the U.S. Open. In case you’re not following the action, everybody’s making a huge hoo-hah of Rory McIlroy’s lead at 11-under. Apparently he broke a tournament record yesterday when he was actually 13-under for a while. However, this is NOT the first time 21-year-old McIlroy got everybody excited about nothing. At the Masters back in April he was 12-under — solidly in first place — heading into round 4 when his game collapsed on national TV and he started whacking balls into ponds, port-a-potties and back yards (see below), ending up so far down from the lead that he probably took home a check for $4.72.

McIlroy (on the right) is pictured here with his caddy trying to figure out how to get his ball out of somebody’s yard and back onto the golf course. The caddy is saying, hey, dude, just try not to hit the dogs, the patio furniture or the Escalade in the driveway. Seriously.

Thank you for reading this.

The Great Mailbox Caper: SOLVED.

There’s late-breaking news this morning from the crime scene here in Mesquite. The driver of the mysterious four-door Ford compact who whacked our brick mailbox on Tuesday (see previous posts here and here) showed up at the front door last night and admitted what he did. Apparently our next-door neighbor had to nudge him a little to come forward, but I’m sure that’s because the driver is a 17-year-old high school kid who probably thought nobody saw him do it. (At 17 I might have done exactly the same thing.)

Silas turned out to be a nice boy and a high school football star who responded to everything with a “yes ma’am” and then offered to pay to have the mailbox foundation repaired. I told him I’d get in touch when we had an estimate and that Sam and I would let him make payments if he wanted to.

So the case is closed, the crime has been solved, and I think I can safely call off the Mesquite Police, the FBI, the CIA, the FCC, the FDA, the Navy Seals, the Department of Homeland Security, the Channel 21 News Chopper and Interpol.

In other news, I received the following photo of Sam and his brothers this morning in an email from my sister-in-law Lisa.

Pictured from left to right, we have David, mom, Steve and (of course) Sam, who all met for lunch at The Cheesecake Factory somewhere in the greater Los Angeles area. For the record, in real life my mother-in-law does NOT actually have a fountain squirting out of her head.

There’s another heat advisory today in Dallas. The high will be 103° with a heat index of 110°, and since the National Weather Service is suggesting again that you check on the elderly, why don’t you come on over with a nice coffee cake around 2:30 and we’ll watch “People’s Court” and play cards in the dining room.

Everybody keep cool. Thank y’all for reading this.

The Great Mailbox Caper continues.

There have been THREE DEVELOPMENTS since I last posted about this crime on June 14.

Development #1. Although I haven’t heard back yet from our next-door neighbor about who was the jerk in the four-door Ford who murdered our mailbox and drove off into the night, yesterday morning our landscaping crew stood our fallen mailbox upright on the cement base and made it look almost as good as new. Sam was ecstatic when I told him because our landscapers always come to the rescue and we LOVE them. (They also fix leaky sprinkler heads.)

Development #2. Later in the day I called our handyman, who said he’d stop by before Saturday to give me an estimate. Gary has the thickest Texas drawl I’ve ever heard. This has nothing whatsoever to do with his ability to fix things, however, plus he’s cheap and exceptionally punctual.

Development #3. I went for a short drive this morning for a nice change of scenery and to get some cash at the bank, and when I got home — holy crap — THE CRIME VEHICLE WAS PARKED IN FRONT OF OUR HOUSE. I called Sam and asked if he thought I should contact the Mesquite police and he said yes, so that’s what I did. A nice officer came over and I told him what happened Tuesday night, but when he took a closer look at the Ford parked out front he said it couldn’t be the crime vehicle because there wasn’t any damage to the trunk ... even though I was POSITIVE it looked caved-in. He said no, not really ... the back end of a Ford Focus is just “naturally ugly.” At that point I pretty much felt like an idiot but I’m glad I reported the mailbox incident anyway.

Now you’re completely up-to-date.

I’m also pleased to announce that my left knee seems to be improving. I’d love to celebrate with ice cream but I don’t have any, so I’ll just make popcorn and watch a movie. Thank you for reading this.

A whole new way to meet the neighbors.

About an hour ago I was conked out in the family room watching The Story of Alexander Graham Bell — starring Don Ameche, Loretta Young, Spring Byington and Charles Coburn — when I was rudely awakened by the sound of someone pounding on the front door. Turns out it was Clark from across the street, who introduced himself and told me he was mowing his front lawn when he saw a blue compact four-door Ford back into our brick mailbox and knock it over. KA-BLAM, the poor thing is laying on the grass like a gigantic concrete cadaver. Clark said whoever was driving the Ford had been visiting one of the college-age daughters who lives next door to us on the north, so I called and left a message for the homeowner.

Stay tuned for further developments. We may need to hire Nick and Nora Charles to get to the bottom of this.

There’s really not much else to report from Howdygramland tonight. I went for a drive this afternoon and talked myself into stopping at a Braum’s ice cream shop for a scoop of sugar-free vanilla. After sitting in line at the drive-through for 15 minutes I got all the way to the cashier’s window when they told me they just ran out. Feeling thoroughly despondent — how the hell could they run out of sugar-free vanilla! — I drove home and ordered Mongolian Chicken for dinner. Mongolian Chicken is the perfect substitute for just about ANYTHING, sex included. (Don’t tell Sam.)

Thank you for reading this. Seriously.