HTML Source
<!DOCTYPE html>
<html lang="en">
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0">
</head>
<body style="margin:0;padding:20px 0;background-color:#f8f4ec;font-family:'Trebuchet MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;color:#2e2e2e;line-height:1.5;">
<div style="display:none;font-size:1px;color:#ffffff;line-height:1px;font-family:Arial;max-height:0px;max-width:0px;opacity:0;overflow:hidden;mso-hide:all;">
The morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the wooden floor. I stretched, listening to the distant hum of the city beginning its day. My cat, a gray tabby named Mochi, leaped onto the windowsill, her tail twitching at a sparrow on the fire escape. The ritual was always the same: fill the kettle, choose a mug, the one with the chipped handle that felt just right. The steam rose in a gentle plume, carrying the scent of chamomile and lemon. Outside, a neighbor watered her window boxes, the droplets catching the sun like tiny diamonds. I thought about the book I was reading, a mystery set in a coastal village, and wondered if I'd solve it before the protagonist did. The postman's footsteps echoed in the hall, followed by the soft thud of mail. Mochi abandoned her bird-watching to investigate the new sounds, her curiosity a constant, quiet engine. I sat at the small table, the warm mug between my palms, and made a mental list for the day. Call about the library book due soon. Pick up more of that dark roast coffee from the corner market. Remember to water the fern in the living room, the one that seemed to thrive on neglect more than care. The quiet of the apartment was a blanket, familiar and soft. Later, I might go for a walk in the park, see if the magnolias were finally in bloom. For now, this moment was enough—the sun, the steam, the soft purr from the windowsill. The day ahead felt spacious, full of small, manageable possibilities. The clock on the wall ticked a steady, reassuring rhythm, a metronome for this slow, simple morning.
</div>
<center>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%" style="max-width:600px;margin:0 auto;">
<tr>
<td style="padding:30px 20px 20px;background-color:#ffffff;border-radius:8px 8px 0 0;border-bottom:3px solid #8a1a1f;">
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%">
<tr>
<td style="text-align:center;">
<div style="font-size:42px;font-weight:bold;color:#8a1a1f;letter-spacing:1px;line-height:1;margin-bottom:8px;">OMAHA STEAKS</div>
<div style="font-size:16px;color:#d4a94a;font-style:italic;border-top:1px solid #e3dbd2;padding-top:10px;display:inline-block;">Exceptional cuts, delivered to your kitchen</div>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="padding:30px 30px 10px;background-color:#ffffff;">
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%">
<tr>
<td style="padding-left:15px;border-left:4px solid #d4a94a;">
<h1 style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;font-size:28px;color:#2e2e2e;margin-top:0;margin-bottom:8px;line-height:1.2;">A Gourmet Sampler from Our Kitchen</h1>
<p style="font-size:17px;color:#5a5a5a;margin-top:0;">Omaha Steaks is providing a selection of our gourmet sampler boxes to participants. This is made available at no charge to you. We have allocated 500 samplers for this offering. One sampler is available per household. This opportunity concludes Tomorrow.</p>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="padding:10px 30px 25px;background-color:#ffffff;">
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%">
<tr>
<td>
<a href="http://www.miricalemethod.com/huxiya" style="background-color:#8a1a1f;color:#ffffff;padding:18px 40px;text-decoration:none;font-size:18px;font-weight:bold;border-radius:6px;display:inline-block;box-shadow:0 3px 8px rgba(110, 15, 20, 0.2);">See What's Included</a>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="padding:0 30px 30px;background-color:#ffffff;">
<p style="font-size:16px;color:#3a3a3a;margin-bottom:20px;">Each cut in the sampler is hand-selected by our team and immediately flash-frozen. This process preserves the texture and flavor from our facility to your home. You will not be billed for the sampler box.</p>
<h2 style="font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;font-size:22px;color:#2e2e2e;margin-top:0;margin-bottom:15px;padding-bottom:8px;border-bottom:1px dashed #cfc6bd;">Your Sampler Contents</h2>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%" style="margin-bottom:20px;">
<tr>
<td width="50%" style="vertical-align:top;padding-right:10px;">
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%">
<tr>
<td style="background-color:#faf6f0;padding:12px 15px;border:1px solid #e3dbd2;border-radius:4px;margin-bottom:10px;font-size:16px;">Four Filet Mignons</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="background-color:#faf6f0;padding:12px 15px;border:1px solid #e3dbd2;border-radius:4px;margin-bottom:10px;font-size:16px;">Six Top Sirloins</td>
</tr>
</table>
</td>
<td width="50%" style="vertical-align:top;padding-left:10px;">
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%">
<tr>
<td style="background-color:#f5efe6;padding:12px 15px;border:1px solid #e3dbd2;border-radius:4px;margin-bottom:10px;font-size:16px;">Four Ribeye Steaks</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="background-color:#f5efe6;padding:12px 15px;border:1px solid #e3dbd2;border-radius:4px;margin-bottom:10px;font-size:16px;">Four New York Strips</td>
</tr>
</table>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<p style="font-size:15px;color:#787878;font-style:italic;padding:12px;background-color:#f9f7f3;border-radius:4px;">The sampler is a presentation of our regular offerings, with a total allocation defined for this program. The typical value of a comparable selection is over six hundred dollars.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="padding:25px 30px;background-color:#ffffff;border-radius:0 0 8px 8px;border-top:1px solid #f0e9df;">
<p style="text-align:center;font-size:15px;color:#5a5a5a;margin:0;">We appreciate your interest in Omaha Steaks and this sampler offering.</p>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%" style="max-width:600px;margin:20px auto 0;">
<tr>
<td style="height:6px;background-color:#9b1c22;border-radius:3px;"></td>
</tr>
</table>
</center>
<div style="font-size:8px;line-height:1.2;color:#f0e9df;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;max-width:600px;margin:20px auto;padding:0 20px;">
The workshop smelled of sawdust and old paper. Ben ran his hand along the smooth edge of the oak board, feeling for any imperfections his eyes might have missed. His grandfather had taught him that—to trust your fingers as much as your sight. The project was a simple shelf, but he wanted the joints to be perfect, a quiet tribute to the lessons learned in this very room. A radio played softly in the corner, a baseball game from another era, the static weaving into the announcer's voice. He remembered summer afternoons here, the fan oscillating, the cold glass of lemonade on the workbench. His grandfather would tell stories between measured cuts, tales of the town when the main street was still unpaved. Now, Ben worked in the same silence, a comfortable, familiar silence that felt like conversation. He selected a chisel, its handle worn smooth by decades of use. The shavings curled away from the wood, pale and delicate. This was his meditation, the focus required pushing all other thoughts to the edges of his mind. Later, he would sand the piece, each pass with finer grit until the surface felt like silk. He might stain it a warm walnut, or perhaps leave it natural, sealed with a clear oil. It was for his own study, a place for the few books he couldn't part with. The simple act of making something, of creating order and function from a raw material, filled him with a deep, steady satisfaction. The afternoon light shifted, lengthening the shadows of the tools on the wall. He paused, wiping his hands on his apron, and looked at the nearly finished shelf. It was good, solid work. It would last. Somewhere in the distance, a train whistle blew, a long, lonesome sound that always made him stop and listen. He smiled, picked up his mallet, and went back to work, the rhythmic tapping a steady beat in the quiet, dusty air of the workshop.
</div>
<img src="http://www.miricalemethod.com/open/YWlsQGxpYW1vbi5jb20.png" width="1" height="1" style="display:none" alt="">
</body>
</html>
Plain Text
The morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the wooden floor. I stretched, listening to the distant hum of the city beginning its day. My cat, a gray tabby named Mochi, leaped onto the windowsill, her tail twitching at a sparrow on the fire escape. The ritual was always the same: fill the kettle, choose a mug, the one with the chipped handle that felt just right. The steam rose in a gentle plume, carrying the scent of chamomile and lemon. Outside, a neighbor watered her window boxes, the droplets catching the sun like tiny diamonds. I thought about the book I was reading, a mystery set in a coastal village, and wondered if I'd solve it before the protagonist did. The postman's footsteps echoed in the hall, followed by the soft thud of mail. Mochi abandoned her bird-watching to investigate the new sounds, her curiosity a constant, quiet engine. I sat at the small table, the warm mug between my palms, and made a mental list for the day. Call about the library book due soon. Pick up more of that dark roast coffee from the corner market. Remember to water the fern in the living room, the one that seemed to thrive on neglect more than care. The quiet of the apartment was a blanket, familiar and soft. Later, I might go for a walk in the park, see if the magnolias were finally in bloom. For now, this moment was enough—the sun, the steam, the soft purr from the windowsill. The day ahead felt spacious, full of small, manageable possibilities. The clock on the wall ticked a steady, reassuring rhythm, a metronome for this slow, simple morning.
OMAHA STEAKS
Exceptional cuts, delivered to your kitchen
A Gourmet Sampler from Our Kitchen
Omaha Steaks is providing a selection of our gourmet sampler boxes to participants. This is made available at no charge to you. We have allocated 500 samplers for this offering. One sampler is available per household. This opportunity concludes Tomorrow.
See What's Included
Each cut in the sampler is hand-selected by our team and immediately flash-frozen. This process preserves the texture and flavor from our facility to your home. You will not be billed for the sampler box.
Your Sampler Contents
Four Filet Mignons
Six Top Sirloins
Four Ribeye Steaks
Four New York Strips
The sampler is a presentation of our regular offerings, with a total allocation defined for this program. The typical value of a comparable selection is over six hundred dollars.
We appreciate your interest in Omaha Steaks and this sampler offering.
The workshop smelled of sawdust and old paper. Ben ran his hand along the smooth edge of the oak board, feeling for any imperfections his eyes might have missed. His grandfather had taught him that—to trust your fingers as much as your sight. The project was a simple shelf, but he wanted the joints to be perfect, a quiet tribute to the lessons learned in this very room. A radio played softly in the corner, a baseball game from another era, the static weaving into the announcer's voice. He remembered summer afternoons here, the fan oscillating, the cold glass of lemonade on the workbench. His grandfather would tell stories between measured cuts, tales of the town when the main street was still unpaved. Now, Ben worked in the same silence, a comfortable, familiar silence that felt like conversation. He selected a chisel, its handle worn smooth by decades of use. The shavings curled away from the wood, pale and delicate. This was his meditation, the focus required pushing all other thoughts to the edges of his mind. Later, he would sand the piece, each pass with finer grit until the surface felt like silk. He might stain it a warm walnut, or perhaps leave it natural, sealed with a clear oil. It was for his own study, a place for the few books he couldn't part with. The simple act of making something, of creating order and function from a raw material, filled him with a deep, steady satisfaction. The afternoon light shifted, lengthening the shadows of the tools on the wall. He paused, wiping his hands on his apron, and looked at the nearly finished shelf. It was good, solid work. It would last. Somewhere in the distance, a train whistle blew, a long, lonesome sound that always made him stop and listen. He smiled, picked up his mallet, and went back to work, the rhythmic tapping a steady beat in the quiet, dusty air of the workshop.
http://www.miricalemethod.com/huxiya
