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.

"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.

The fortunate part about not knowing what lies ahead of you is that sometimes, not knowing makes it possible to muddle through a difficult situation. Sometimes foreknowledge only makes what is coming more difficult to bear.

Whether or not what I have could be correctly termed "Martian Death Flu" is somewhat irrelevant; anything that forces you to sleep for over eighteen hours a day - while you're on vacation, no less - counts, as far as I can tell.

For those of you who hated the sunny, cheerful phone calls I made from the beach, revenge is yours. I have spent the last 24 hours huddled up on Noah and David's couch, under blankets, alternately sneezing and snuffling, and making the blindingly-obvious statements that I always make when somewhat feverish.If ever there was a hint that perhaps it was time to go home, this is it. True, I need sleep, as I also need hydration and probably a few calories (hard to get interested in eating when all food tastes like unsalted cardboard), but what I really, really need right now is some kitty ministrations.