I washed my hair today. Which was good because it had been about a week
since the last time I did. It doesn’t get as icky after that amount of time
in the arid climate of Colorado, but by the time I returned to the South, it
was obviously past its time.

Because of this, my hair was down when I went to school to return a book to
the library. Instead of getting my grades, I got a little card in the mail
saying I had a problem with the library. I called them this afternoon when I
got up and found out that they couldn’t find a book I’d checked out for my
research paper. I’d checked out a bunch of books for that paper from UM and
the public library. A pile that reached past my knee when stacked up, as a
matter of fact. I’d returned them all after the paper got turned in. Well,
MOST of them. I found one under the seat of my car this morning after
talking to the library people on the phone and discovering that a book was
still missing.

I called Mark before I left, since I talked to him on the phone last night
saying I might come see him at school the next day. Leaving a message on his
voice mail, I drove off for school, wondering how the heck I’d find him.
He’s in a new trailer (the girls live in dorms, the guys in cottages and
trailers), and I had no idea which one. But as I prepared to get out of my
car in front of the library, he approached my vehicle. “Hi!” I said, opening
my door. Brad followed up behind him. “Jonah,” breathed Brad, “You look
like a chick.” I guess I did with my hair down and shorts and white Nikes
on. “Nice legs,” he added. “Nice legs,” Mark concurred. “Thank you.” “I
was expecting the jeans, flannel shirt,” commented Brad. “Yeah, well it’s
hot today,” I answered putting my purse with checkbook inside over my
shoulder. “You’ve even got a purse today,” Brad continued.

We went in to the library. “This is late,” I said sliding the book to the
lady across the counter. It was indeed almost two weeks late. She and the
workstudy looked in vain for its card. Then the lady who’s like second in
command over there came over to help. She found the card where she’d pulled
it waiting for me to call back. Satisfied, she crossed out my name on a bad
list and marked some other things. “Okay,” she said looking up at me.
“That’s it?” I asked. “Yes, we won’t make you pay a fine. We’re just glad
to have it back.” “Cool,” I smiled. “Now run before I change my mind,” she
ordered. I left the library quickly with Mark and Brad in tow.

We went over to Mark’s trailer. Girls aren’t allowed inside, but he lives so
far back now that no one notices. It’s pretty nice with a full kitchen.
Brad and I talked about relationships and meaning while Mark played
alternative music tunes on the classical guitar he checked out of the music
dept. Then he went to eat at the snack shop and I had to go home and cook
dinner.

In other news a quest I’ve held for a couple of years now finally came to
completion. I’d been searching for the perfect chocolate chess pie recipie
and found it tonight, quite inadvertantly. What I really wanted was a
chocolate chip pie recipe, so I flipped through cookbooks radomly trying to
find one. My mom has a whole cabinet dedicated to cook books, most of them
gifts she never uses. I finally cried out in triumph as I flipped to the
correct page. As I rolled out the pie crust, my mom asked what I was making.
I refused to say, as always. My brother, who is fairly perceptive, didn’t
ask but came over to the cookbook and started reading off the ones on the
page. “Chocolate chess?” he wondered allowed. “Chocolate chess?! Where!” I
demanded. There, right above the one for the chocolate chip pie, it was.
Since the pie crust recipie is for two crusts, I made one of each. We had
the chess tonight. And it was good. Real good. I’m happy with it, and
quite satisfied with myself.