Pam,

I cried into my pillow, not on my letter. Happy?

Michael doesn't have a tattoo. He was really disturbed when his temporary one rubbed off in the bath (thought you should have that mental image since I was forced to have it). For a while he was just walking around with Marvin the Martian's feet and half of a bulldog's face on his back, but now it's all gone and he's wearing his shirts normally again. After Dwight explained how tribes chiseled tattoos into skin, Michael kind of lost his drive for the whole thing. Now he thinks he wants a mohawk. To intimidate the competition. I put a picture of his temporary tattoo in with this letter and I will definitely include one if he gets a mohawk. Dwight says he might get one too (which means Michael probably won't do it now). (Damn it, Dwight!)

Work has been pretty slow otherwise. Everyone's starting to worry about downsizing more and more. Not sure where I'll go if Scranton gets the ax (which it probably will). I was thinking of moving down to Philadelphia. A friend of mine from college got a job at a newspaper there and says the sales people make decent money. But I'm trying not to think about it yet. It's weird because I feel like I might actually miss the place. Not... not really though. Know what I mean? I guess I'm just used to it. Anyway, whatever. It's only paper.

You, however, have something to be excited about! That antique store stuff sounds interesting and any job that you can paint at has to be pretty cool. Maybe you can find an antique frame to put my watercolor in. Because, yes, I will be framing it and hanging it on my wall. These oil painting pictures you sent are really good. I'm impressed and proud, like a parent at a T-ball game. Only, you know, without the inappropriate amount of competitiveness. (Seriously though, you know I think you're great.)

And thumbs up for some younger friends. Before you know it you'll have friends in their 30s and 20s and you'll be the coolest kid on the block. It's also cool that you can talk about art and stuff with the professor's wife. You need someone to talk to, I bet. Let me know what she says. You'll go far, Pam. I know it. Nobody puts Pam in the corner. (Sorry, it was on TV last night.)

I'm working on getting a rich benefactor. So far I've gotten a birthday check for $25 from my aunt, so I'm on my way. A couple more and I should be in business. But I won't lie, I'm probably going to waste it on a new iPod.

I miss you. Wish you were here.

with love,
Jim