God, I love Def Leppard.

Today was my last day of work. None of the kids cried, but that may be because I don't think it registered with them that they were never going to see me again�ever. Small children don't really pay much attention to transitions anyway. Most of them just go with the flow. Seven-year-old Leah, my favorite, said she'd miss me, but she wasn't going to cry. "I never cry when I lose a buddy," she explained.

That's resilient.

And somehow I've found myself painting John Svec's house while drinking PBRs and planning my exodus to Grinnell and missing people who've gone: Leisel and Susie and Leah, of course. But also pre�mptively, like Jaime and Jill and Pat and Ransom. But I'll see them all again soon enough.

I don't cry when I lose a buddy.

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