A week or so ago was Chandler’s reading at the Minnesota Center for Book Arts. Her father did most of the reading and embarrassing-video-of-Chandler-as-an-aw-shucks-youngster-playing, but it was Chandler’s book that was the star of the evening.
It was September first when last I rode my bike — I think that the last day in August was the one where I found out that my brakes work terrifically as I flew over the handlebars and into the path of an oncoming car. Fortunately they had a stop sign.
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