Hello to my peoples, of whom not one, not ever, has told me about the dangers of microwaving a hard-boiled egg. One would think, in my 24 years, four months, one day and seven hours, someone would have told me how to explode an egg. But no, it had to wait until this very night. My sister in law spent the evening in the kitchen, scrubbing and de-cluttering and bemoaning the fact that this was the very most lame way she could spend a Friday night. B and I spent it at the rec center with every one else who have nothing better to do of a friday night. I got home after my workout and a session in the steam room, followed by a swim, all rejuvenated and if not hungry, at least with an appetite. Something high protein, I tell myself, opening the fridge and locating two week old hard boiled eggs. The perfect dinner. A plate and a fork, nothing else to mar the sparkling kitchen. A minute and a half in the microwave, then I grab my fork and plate and start for the living room, preparing to mash my two eggs into a yummy protein pulp... when POUF! I find myself standing stupidly in the middle of a ten foot radius of pulverized egg. Egg on the fridge, egg on the stove, egg on the walls and into the living room and in the basket with the few leftover halloween candies the trick or treaters did not take. Egg on the floor in a perfect circle around me. And only a few bits of shredded egg white left on my plate. It took a moment of staring about me at the bits of clinging egg to fully realize what had just happened to me. Everyone here seems to think I should have known that is what would happen. Should I have?

Keystone opened today. The last day of an easy left hand turn was yesterday. The skier parking lot was full today, far too full for one run. I am tempting myself with going tomorrow, even though it might be to crowded to really enjoy it. Of course, we will work tomorrow as well, and go to church in the morning. And I am tired. A full eight hours of work (brutal, i know...) two hours of running, rowing, leg presses and crunches, a dinner of unexploded leftover tuna salad, a half hour of egg removal in the kitchen, and an orange julius (of sorts) with a splash of coconut rum...and it is getting late, and I am warm under my blanket on the couch... and my eyelids keep dropping. Goodnight, my loved ones. I shall write more later, perhaps the next time I explode something.