I am enjoying the P-C travelogue very much.

I can't remember my SAT scores. It was enough to get me a free ride at the state school. Likewise on the LSAT. Library school, however, I had to borrow a large sum to attend.

A friend of mine was accepted at Princeton. In her first meeting with whatever counselor, she realized that her recommendation letters had been mixed up with a woman who had the same name. She never figured out if that woman had also been accepted or not, just knew that she wasn't attending Princeton.

Dear Robin Lastname would work, I think, even without the honorific.

I thought of that but it kind of makes it seem as if the letter was computer-generated, you know? It's probably the best option.

The P-C travelogue is fascinating.

I did very meh on the SAT's. Didn't study, didn't prep, and took them on three hours of sleep. I think I got a 1290 or some such. Only years later did it occur to me that I could have actually made an effort and improved my score.

I recently learned that part of my problem with standardized testing may have been the (very undiagnosed) ADHD. My eyes skip around the page and miss little details. I'm not making excuses, but I wish I'd been aware so I could have done something to compensate.

I read Polter's description of the village, think of all the stuff in my house, remember I'm considered below average in income, and realize that some worlds may never meet.

lisah, is there a title you could use? Dear Emigration Officer Lastname or something?

Dear Emigration Officer Lastname or something?

I'll suggest that to him. I don't have the letter he is responding to so I can't search it for clues.

I'm just hoping I don't prevent him from becoming the Canadian of his dreams!

P-C, you write so beautifully. This should be a travel piece. In, like, a major magazine. The "between squalor and luxury" line was perfect.

Thank you. I really don't think it's all that great, since physical description is by far my greatest weakness, but the squalor line's my favorite. I do love it so.

I read Polter's description of the village, think of all the stuff in my house, remember I'm considered below average in income, and realize that some worlds may never meet.

Oh yeah. It really does put things in perspective. There are people who live in even worse conditions, too. And the thing is, they're perfectly happy because they don't really know what they're missing. It's the way it's always been, and they're fine.

Also, Sparky is newly tagless.

I work in a provincial immigration office. We get emails from people from around the world addressed to Dear Mr. (boss' first name). I think putting Dear Robin Lastname would be just fine.

I could probably make some pretty creepy confections. Sugar is my art, and I did once make a cake shaped like a rat, with red eyes and blood on its teeth. Getting them across the country would be a challenge, though.

Sugar is your art. You make cookies and cakes with your hands, day after day. That final chocolate chip. That look of perfection. Part of you is desperate to know: What's it taste like? Where does it lead you? And now you see, that's the secret. Not the nuts you didn't throw in or the vanilla you didn't include. Every Buffista... has a sugar wish.