10:49 a.m. - November 28, 2002
Football break
Spent time with Bathsheba yesterday and it was just like old times, a relief. She doesn't like my driving but we talked and laughed and the drive to Portland and back was pleasurable.
It was good. I relaxed.
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Came across my little poetry book while browsing at Powell's and thumbed through the pages like looking at a scrapbook. Since it was published I haven't picked up my own copy more than once or twice but I relished this read, reviewing my favorite poems and finding yes, I know the entire book even after all these years. Wasn't critical of the errors; in fact, they didn't register until the drive back to Seattle. Nostalgia is good.
I miss my poetry and handwriting in my leather journals and the craft of writing. The writing here lacks the earnestness with which I once tackled thoughts and emotions perhaps too seriously.
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Bathsheba, the birthday present means far more to me than I can say. I hope you know that.
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Cousin due to arrive shortly for Thanksgiving. I must be nice even if she annoys me for grandmother's sake. It can be done. An effort, yes, but can be done.
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Happy Thanksgiving, Americans. For all you others, have a good day at work. Grin.
