Your cocktail sir,

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2002-08-26 - 10:36 a.m.

I started my morning by talking about food, and now Iím insatiably hungry. I thought about combating it with some hot chocolate from the little pouches, but itís made me maudlin. Hot Chocolate from the pouch reminds me of camping, waking up just before dawn and climbing down from the bunk bed in the Winnebago, trying not to wake up my sisters. How hard it was to work the latch on the door. Sitting there in the chill morning breeze with my father. The rushing of the propane stove and the bubble of the percolator my father used to brew coffee. Or more often then not, tent camping with my motherís family at Woodward. How my fingernails would attract dirt and the only way to get them specifically clean was to swim in the lake. Swimming on the inflatable island, getting to drive the boat.

I apologize for the insipid banality of my childhood tale. We have visitors from France this week at the office, plus an Employee Activities Team meeting concerning the upcoming picnic, so hopefully Iíll have something to mine for entry space.

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