I just returned to the library from a very wet, very cold day at the farmers' market, giving books to eager, wet children. I see a whole lot more than falling numbers cascading down the page. From here it looks like little letters dribbling and dripping down the sides of the bookwagon. Before I start hallucinating even more, I'm going to go home and take a nap. Only then will I tackle the drive to Salt Lake City to deliver an anxious Tom to the grandparents for a week.

Eiseley