James is leaving.

I don't deserve such kind words from him.

My father is cooking. I think I smell herbs, wine sauce, chicken. It's cooking in the huge iron pan. It smells so good.

Today after work, I hiked to my dad's office. I stuck my hand in my pocket and shouted schei�e as I pulled out a key to one of Special Collection's annexes. My bosses there aren't allowed to go home until all the keys are back, so I ran back to the library over icy steps, risking my little neck. I worried they'd think I'd want to sneak into the annex and make off with turn of the century Geologic survey maps or something.

I thought, "They don't know how lucky they are, this isn't the key to the first editions of Willa Cather. O Pioneers! O Pioneers!"

I want to be a book collector.

Dinner.

2003-01-07, dinner

before / after

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