Why I Came Home For Thanksgiving

Or, Where I Got My Taste In Books Me: Dad, I’m borrowing some of your books. Dad: No, you’re not. Me: I’m sorry, I phrased that badly. Daddy, I picked out some books of yours that I want. Can I have them? Dad: No. … Which ones? Me: About half of that shelf? Dad: No! …Which half? Me: Well, I’ve been jonesing to reread all the old Mercedes Lackey… Dad: Maybe. You’re not touching my Tamora Pierce. Me: Fine, I’ll borrow those from Jess. Dad: Great, she can fight with you to get them back. Me: No, we’re not related;