On foggy mornings such as this, it's easy to let the mind wander and fancy myself a rider galloping through a mysterious realm on a spirited steed. I picture myself in a timeless mountain valley where ghosts and magic are ready for an encounter, just beyond that 30 yard horizon. As I advance on this quest, I feel the crisp air against my skin, sharpening the senses. The world is smaller in this pocket of space which time forgot and my imagination is free to fill the blank. Alas, this magic moment lasts but a short while. As I drive up the hill that leads to the office, I notice that like a sharp battle axe, cutting through soft flesh the sun is breaking through the clouds; claiming victory in this mythical battle. The vision fades away like a distant dream.
But wait! It appears not to be a dream after all. Evidence can be found at my desk. Sir Jim Johnson (donut boy) has delivered a bounty of delicious donuts. This treasure awaits in gold-plated oak chests (actually they’re yellow LaMar’s cardboard boxes… but humor me). So come on down and enjoy the magic.