To Cobb

It was noted some time back that the location of my residence for the next year was undecided. Since then, you may have been among those who have been told that Meghan got a job in Cobb County. And thus, that will be my home for the next year.

When I was growing up in Nashville, I used to hear these vague references from my father about locations where he used to live. Once distinctly vague reference was somewhere on the west side of Nashville.

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I recall that my sister-in-law lived in the neighborhood near the end of her time at Vanderbilt. One day my dad pointed west across I-440, and told me that he used to live in blah blah blah just beyond that bum bum-ba blah blah. He sounded like he had been running from the law.

I don't know that I ever envisioned myself moving quite this much. Between the ages of two and sixteen-years old I had lived in two permanent dwellings that were within one mile of each other. Since sixteen, I have lived in nine (9) other places. That doesn't particularly bother me in the current context, since some sort of ease in the habit of moving appears to be in the not-too-distant future.

While I am not terribly excited about leaving Athens again, I am tickled to be moving to a place that will be near dear friends, still in Georgia, and within three-and-a-half hours of Nashville. The five-hour drive has made getting to Nashville difficult. It is time to jump back on that horse.

Most importantly, Meghan has found a very interesting job in a place that appears to provide a steady but challenging job. She is excited about it and I am too.

So, put your friends in the 30062 and surrounding ZIP codes on notice. We're coming arriving sooner than you think, and one of us doesn't like onions.