I love borrowing books from Bathsheba. Just now, reading from Atonement, a card slipped out from the book into my lap. The card�an invitation to a certain event�was designed by Bartholomew Klakk. How lovely this thing is. How lovely, in the soaking rain of today, ripe with melancholy and peace, to have a small piece of serendipity fall into my lap. A good luck charm, borrowed at that.

Last night was fun. We drank beers and ate pizza (food! We had food!) and eventually, finally, we got down to the business of putting stuff into the blank journal. I want to have a party full of lively folk where we all make journal pages. Good clean fun, folks. That's what I'm talking about.

All morning I wrestled with technology. The blasted label making machines, arcane and irreplaceable, refused to work. So many books needed book jackets. The new books must be ready by tomorrow morning. Jibbidi boo. No time for anything. I feel anxious. Like the small anxiety I feel coming to an intersection on foot, knowing I have to get across, knowing I will, but still. That small hum of nerves won�t leave me be.

The rain began as I walked to lunch. I did not pull out my umbrella. I let my hair steam up into a poof of frizz and let my clothes stick close to my body and woo, baby. I watched a skinny girl with short hair ride her bike through the most torrential downpour, straight through the biggest puddles and she was laughing a full-throated joy. Lovely, serendipitous day.