Tuesday, September 14

the relative significance of movements

A few days ago, Jesse called to say his son had been born.

Saturday night, CarolAnn and I sat in the Hiway Diner until about 3:30 drinking coffee and tea and talking about everything. After I dropped her off at the dorm she woke up her roommate, who probably still isn't talking to her.

Tonight Mike wrote from Iraq saying my writing has gotten better and he has stories to tell and I should knock off talking this Peace Corps nonsense and he can't wait to be back.

On Thursday, Cornfed, my ultimate frisbee playing compatriots, are going to pile into sundry vehicles and strike out for Columbia, MO and Club Sectionals. I'm missing this one because tomorrow afternoon I'm bound for Winfield, KS, and four days of the Walnut Valley Festival.

The weekend will be exactly a year since we drove all night back from Winfield, me and Levi and Andy the quiet funny German kid, so I could go to Omaha and stand in the airport, blasted out of my mind on fatigue, while Molly walked through security and got on a plane and left the country.

p1k3 / 2004 / 9 / 14