August 2, August 2

Yesterday I went to the library and borrowed Raymond Carver's Where I'm Calling From. I wanted to reread "Cathedral." I started "Feathers" instead, stopped a few pages from the end. I just finished it now—it's been a while since I've read Carver. There was a great part about the friend's immense, ugly baby; that was pretty funny, but I laughed out loud at the part where the narrator's wife "chucked the baby under one of his chins." One of his chins!

I was about to start "Cathedral" when my eye fell on the About the Author page. It was only then that I remembered: Raymond Carver died twenty years ago today, on the day I turned 18.