Mendo just to pickup papers– what a waste, I’m thinking, but relief more so the semester’s over. Sitting in the classroom, I’m not looking at this goddamn stack of papers. Have to grade. And the other stack I have to get from Solano. Don’t think about it, Mike. Just think about you baby– Emma. At home waiting for me. Tomorrow I’ll drive to Dolano early, one of my nice meditative drives. Thinking about nothing, nothing but her, writing, making her and her brother, little Jack, my subjects, my studies. Just looking st Emma teaches me and I wonder why I’m this fortunate, to have her and the moments with her, the house to bring her home to. Here’s where the writing expands and explodes for all of our fortune.