Parking Lot Nostalgia

Hey Matt Smith.

I was coming back from a performance site yesterday -- my first day of teaching -- and we were driving right behind a truck whose mud flaps were manufactured in Goshen, Indiana. And, inevitably, I thought of you. Not because you're the only person I know who's from Goshen, but because I suddenly thought that maybe you're actually the only person who's EVER come from Goshen. You're really the only person who lives there, aren't you? When you're away at school, the town pretty much shuts down 'cause there's no one there, right? Just checking.

A few things I should let you in on:
1) I have unpacked. And a few of your assumptions do indeed hold true. There are quite a few boxes in my room -- although I think they'd more rightly be called crates -- but all of them are empty and now have other purposes than they originally did. One is a bookshelf, one is a shelf that holds photos and such, and another holds a bunch of candles. None of them hold up a television, because, as one may have gathered, I no longer own a television. Nor do I own a VCR. I have left all of my countless videotapes with my sister, and I miss them (and my sister) greatly.
2) I have left Matt, Emma, and Me, Too at home in Pittsburgh. Emma lives with Lori (but Marty lives with Matt, so look out Jane Street) and Me, Too lives with my sister. She loves him. Or she should. Because I'm not there to. And I can't bring him here, the poor kitten, for assorted reasons... so I'll have to send Kitty Support Checks and let my friends and family love him until I get back.
3) I do have bouts of nostalgia and the gas prices do fluctuate. It's funny you should mention both of those things. For one, I have the bouts of nostalgia at the most random times. Today, I had one while walking through a grocery store parking lot. It was sad. (Which is horrible because I don't think I'm allowed to be sad or lonely here. The natives just won't put up with it.) And also, the gas prices are STRANGE. There's a gas station at the end of the street that I live on, and I swear, the gas price changes twice daily. It's one price when I go out early in the morning, and by the time I come home in the evening, it's changed. One day it changed four times. I've seen it go from $1.70 to $1.86 and back down again during the course of a day. Spooky, yes?
Oh, and 4) The menorah's not mine. It's Melissa's.

Work's pretty okay. Yes, being a troll all week has its advantages, but I often find myself slipping into Troll Speak (which sounds a lot like Dave Katzin's Transylvanian Portugese accent, but I never intended it to) at the oddest points in my day. Never try talking to a check-out girl that way. She just won't know what to do. Trust me.
Yes, being a troll and a pirate and a goat actually are teaching strategies with the company I'm in. So far, so good. I think the message is getting across (today I taught self-control -- yes, con-TROLL -- to kindergarteners) and it's uncanny how comfortable I am doing what I'm doing. I might even say I was good at it.

But that's the only time you'll hear me say it.

Love,
Meredith