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11/21/01
9 DAYS TO GO
I spotted a guy selling Real Change yesterday and crossed the street to buy a copy.
"I'll take a copy," I said, full of generosity and smug self-satisfaction. (I had just finished thinking about some difficult personal problems and eaten a mess of tiny donuts, fresh from the grease at Daily Dozen.)
The guy, older with yellowing white hair and a flannel shirt, perked up noticeably. We exchanged a mutually pleasing moment of eye contact and smiles as I fumbled for a buck in my wallet.
I pulled out a ten.
Then a five.
Then the ten again.
It was too much. I felt like fuckin J.P. Morgan. My blush was warming a three-block radius.
I pushed the money at the guy, whose name I missed because I didn't look at his badge. I pleaded with him for forgiveness, "I'll give you five for it, OK?"
He said, tucking the sawbuck in his shirt pocket, "Thank you, and you have a nice day."
11/20/01
10 DAYS TO GO
I am in love with the Blaschka marine invertebrates and plants. I'm currently planning trips to Harvard and Cornell to steal them all.
My own cabinet of curiosities is deluxe, with skulls of all sorts, wasp nest, old microscope, human rib bone, emu egg, South American salamander in jar with crayfish, baby sand dollars in vials, musty natural history texts, and many more oddities.
But wouldn't it be boss to own all the Blaschkas?
11/14/01
Road Blog, Finis
New York City was wonderful. I especially liked Williamsburg, a neighborhood in Brooklyn, and the hot nut vendors. We spent many wonderful hours visiting friends.
Back by Bieber Bus to Pennsylvania, then I was off on my own by train to Montreal. The train ride was 12 hours long, and I was captivated by the upstate scenery. Our leaves don't turn color, really, in Seattle. They just get brown and fall off, the quicker to make a lovely, slippery mulch that coats our shoes until May.
In Montreal, I attended the World Fantasy Convention, my last as a bookseller. It was kind of sad, but really nice to see some of my favorite people.
J and her mom joined me a few days in, and they saw the sights while I did lots of schmoozing. We sent J's mom off on the train back home, and we took off driving. We were tired, and determined to make it back home as quickly as possible. So instead of driving back by way of Canada, where the weather looked dicey, we threaded the Great Lakes, zipped past Chicago, and joined the mighty I-90.
Highlights: the Canterbury Inn in Madison, WI; Mud Pie in Minneapolis--the last veg food we'd see until Missoula; and North Dakota, which turned out to be lovelier than you'd think.
But the best moment of all was stepping back into our own house. It was the road trip of a lifetime, three full weeks of good books, great conversation, big skies, thunderstorms, rolling farmland, autumn leaves, sparkling cities, and entrancing people.
NOW. 12 more days of work, including today.
Wish me luck.
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