My mother is one of the best mothers a student or traveler can have because SHE LOVES TO SEND CARE PACKAGES (many of my recent roommates/suitemates/hallmates can testify to this). Two days ago, I received a box. I was expecting one – I’d left my contact lenses and a few other little things behind. All of the extra space, however, was stuffed with scooby doo fruit snacks. This was a significantly more successful endeavor than the time my parents tried to fill the extra space in a box with mac ‘n’ cheese, removing the contents of the pasta boxes and placing them into small plastic baggies; every single baggie but one exploded, and I was removing tiny, elbow-shaped noodles from everything I owned for the rest of the semester. This time, everything remained in tact; and, as a result, I averaged about five fruit snack bags an hour for the next few days. (Though I didn’t realize it until I looked at my desk):
(Also, my family knows how firmly I believe that the blue ones are the best. The first ten bags I opened had a maximum of one blue gummy each. Just now, as I was sitting down to quickly post this, I opened one with five! Hoorah!)
Tonight, our neighbor/landlady/the breakfast chef at the inn prepared fish and sent some extra over to feed me and the other woman I live with. She explained to me at breakfast that the fish she’d be preparing all day was “St. Peter’s Fish,” the kind they catch in the Sea of Galilee. It was sweet that she wanted to feed us, but…I’ve never eaten fish that still looked like fish before. In fact, if you know anything about my dietary development over the last few years, you know that the miracle of me eating fish at all actually rivals someone pulling a coin out of the fish’s mouth or nearly sinking a ship with a sudden swarm from a previously empty sea.
But – in keeping with my new and improved and significantly less picky culinary identity, I ate St. Peter’s fish with relish.
(you can also see the giant, unidentifiable bug bite on my hand in the above picture)