"When I said 'get your heart rate down,' I meant it, and now. Don't make me haul you off this machine and beat you." - Laura-the-trainer

In the week I've been working out, I've learned about as much about Laura-the-trainer as she has learned about me. Although I cannot definitively say what her waist size is (knowledge that she has about me), I can say one thing for her: she appreciates mornings almost as much as I do.

Which is to say, not at all.If I come in for an early workout, our exchanges are often more grunted than spoken. But she's there, and I'm there, and that's apparently what counts. However, when awake, she is fearsome.

I'd just finished curling my biceps into entertaining little squiggles and moved on to the triceps machine when Laura materialized to my left. She was grinning, in that particular I-have-an-evil-secret way that I've learned to recognize after less than a week.

"You'll never believe what I did last night."

There is one last Colorado story I plan to tell, and it's one that I've been holding close and quiet, because the time wasn't right to tell it. That is no longer the case.

In this life, at least, like attracts like. I won't say that most, or half, or even many of my friends have an extraordinary event in their past that affects their adult lives, but some of them do. For those who do, though, the friendship is subtly different; a different level of protection and guardianship than what is found among those who don't understand.Sometimes, you don't even have to know what the event was to recognize the effects. Our hobo language of survival isn't always visible to the rest of the world, but once you learn it, you know what to look for. The presence - or absence - of particular words. The inability to joke about a particular subject. A subtly self-destructive pattern of behavior.

I knew things were a bit more serious than my original reckoning when I realized that over half of the skin of my bottom lip had come off in a single piece. Stupid, stupid girl; what in the previous twenty-four hours had failed to convince me that I'd had a major lapse in self-control? Did the insomnia and the twenty-four hours of shakes not serve as warning enough?

Stupid, stupid girl.

Day two of caffeine withdrawal. On the phone last night, in the middle of something that smelled halfway between chastisement and argument, I admitted to the voice on the other end of the phone that I should probably start treating caffeine with the same wary respect that most people give to alcohol.

"The house was different without you here. At night, the only sounds were the sounds of the house settling. It was kinda spooky."

"Got used to my late-night noises, hmm?"

"Yeah. A bit of music, and the taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap of keys. Wasn't quite the same without them."

- Jeff

"Stretch your hands out, spread your feet apart, and look straight ahead."

It was a formality, really. Sure, wand me down. I wasn't carrying anything metal; I know better than to do that in the age of burning planes and buildings. (I only taunt fate in ways that don't matter.) The only metal on my body was the clasp holding my jeans together.I don't like taking my wedding and engagement bands off, but they were in the smallest compartment of my backpack, nestled in with my spare change in the hopes of making them harder to find by anyone who might choose to rifle through my pack. In the dance to prepare for the airport security check, they are the last things to come off, after the watch and the shoes, and the first to be put back on.

twinkle, twinkle, little star

you're older than you feel you are

Christmas, twenty years ago. Events stay the same. It's we that change.

I am, however, required to notify you all that due to circumstances beyond our control, Chris and I are sponsoring a new holiday this year. Say hello to Christmas 2: Electric Bugaloo.