It's a vacation day. Why am I hurrying? I wanted and planned and intended to watch the World Championships on ESPN (2:00 - 4:00) at Tony's house. My father left the keys to his car for me. They don't have cable TV; neither do I. And Tony's house is so welcoming with purring cats and a great big television I don't think he uses often.

>But I slept, and now it's 1:45 and I am unshowered, sitting sleepy and ponytailed in the sun-filled office and considering breakfast. The house is quiet; my parents are out visiting someone and I'm alone with the cats.

They sleep in the same places every night, although I open my door to them when I'm here. Fontaine likes the carpeted hall outside my parents' bedroom; Griffin curls into a big upholstered chair in the living room; Grace, for reasons beyond my grasp, stretches out on top of the piano. How odd.

When I'm awake, I'll go to Tony's, and we'll go out and see Spy Game and get some dinner and lament the onset of Holiday Shopping Hell. First order of the day is definitely a shower, though.

Last night was much laughter and the Great Mr. Turkey Re-heading Project (a story for another day; Tony says we're very strange and I'm inclined to agree) and discovering that triptophan (tryptophan?) does indeed make one sleepy. My grandmother is still the funniest person I know next to my mother. I am thankful for laughter, as I am every year.

But as usual, there is much sorrow. There is so much sorrow that everyone is juggling and taking turns and handing off as if our sorrows were hot potatos: no one can hold them all at once, no one can hold one for too long, and we all have burned hands.

I am alive. I am loved. I have wonderful family and wonderful friends. I am thankful. I am grateful.

I am afraid.

And so much for all that. I'm off for my shower.