Being a compendium of what Glenn Ingersoll is thinking and reading and you know whatever.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Kent is stretched out on the couch reading me bits from the latest New Yorker. Sundy is between his legs. Sutra, on the floor to my left, sat up to scratch his chin with a hind foot. Flash is on the wood floor in the dining room gazing placidly at the couch.