We did not exchange gifts this year. For the first time in three years, Christmas did not come wrapped in memories of IVs, hospital smells, or the face of pain…that was gift enough.

We received a digital photo frame from Nick's parents last week. Resizing pictures from "the early days", there are lines on our faces that were not there before. We joke that we've aged each other. How dare you make me smile so much that it stays on my face long after the moment has passed! As we embark on our fourth year together, he can still surprise me.

Unloading groceries last night, he hands me an envelope. "I meant this to be for Christmas, but it did not come until Saturday." I reread the first line a few times in disbelief. He donated money for Cancer research in my mother's name. It was one of the most thoughtful gifts I have ever received. I started tearing up and his lower lip trembled: he knew.

He did not know her well. I wanted them to meet, but Mom was insistent that she wanted to wait until she felt better. She was in denial that the end was so near, and I suppose that I was too because I rescheduled the meeting for some future date when the nightmare would be over.

Instead, he met her once in the hospital when she promised him, "Next time you see me, I'll be doing somersaults," and the next time he saw her she was delirious and heading into a coma. Yet, for a woman that he didn't know, and a girlfriend that he knew less than a month, he never left my side. He just seemed to understand what needed to be done.

He always does. Thank you, Nick.

Happy New Year!

Nearly one month ago, my father purchased a laptop...his first ever computer. Now, being a member of gen-y, I had the benefit of growing up with a computer in the home. My parents hired someone to set up that big clunky computer in our home office sometime during third or fourth grade. My father, after a few rounds with DOS, decided that it was not for him. He never tried to use a computer again—a little shocking for someone who owns his own business, no?

Needless to say I am pleased as punch that he has decided to join the digital age. He has mastered the touchpad on the laptop and even exclaimed with glee that it seemed much easier than that separate "rolly thing".

…man after my own heart.

Nick and I spent several hours with him right after he brought the computer home, and I set up a wireless network for him and increased the font size on the screen. I created an email account for him, though I doubt that anyone but me has his address! He plays solitaire daily and calls me regularly to tell me the score--so far, the game has won way more than he has. He also likes to search for Moen faucets and Farm-All tractor parts, but I don't like to talk about that.

He left a message for me at work yesterday wondering if I would be available to celebrate Grandma's birthday in a week. I, evil thing that I am, sent him an email and left a message on his cell to check there for my reply. He was the cutest thing! He called during lunch in a panic because he couldn't figure out how to look at email—every time he tried to type his password it came out as stars! "What am I doing wrong!?" he cried.

No doubt about it, I am closer to my father now than I have ever been. Relationships take effort and open minds. When Mom died, I truly felt orphaned. Not that my father has ever been a poor father, merely that I was blinded with grief for the parent that doubled as my best friend. My vision is clearer now, and I can see the pragmatic, kind, and generous man that he is…so many qualities that I respect and hope that I in some way possess.

I really was blessed with my parents, both of whom I deeply admire. The word that comes to mind when I think of them is "pure". Not that anyone is perfect or deserves to be put under that expectation, but they never pretended to be someone who they were not. Honest in their shortcomings and accepting of mine, I could not love my parents more. I now consider my father one of my best friends. I am happy to share with him the secrets of the digital age…finally.

Friday, I wore my first pair of tights of the season. The air is chilly and the foliage afire. I really hate the cold, but how can anybody hate autumn? Unquestionably the most beautiful of the four, it is the only season I missed while living in North Carolina.

It puts me in the mood for Fall snacks. Nick and I made pumpkin-raisin cookies the other night for him to take into work, and now I cannot be stopped. I love the spicy sent of Worcestershire sauce baking in a cozy kitchen. After a housework-productive but otherwise lazy morning, I decided I would venture out to find ingredients for Chex Mix.

Now, you must understand my love affair with Chex Mix. I have loved it longer than I've loved almost anything. Crunchy, savory goodness in every bite. How could one not fall headlong in love? I told Nick I would drive into Madison to buy my supplies because the local grocery store gets a little snarfy with my wallet.

So I venture out. I don't know if it's that I've accepted that I won't have children, or too many years living in peace, but the screaming kids, yelling parents, and bickering spouses drove me bonkers. So completely oblivious to anyone around them in the cramped aisles! Oh, and CONTROL YOUR CHILDREN, THEY'RE MAKING A MESS OF THE DORITOS. I did not realize it was a code that every irritating person in the world converged upon their nearest grocery store on Saturday afternoon. I know now.

In the past, I've always made the Chex Mix (hereafter CM) juice from scratch, but I've become slothful in my old, late-twenties age. I prefer the packets now (with extra Worcestershire sauce of course). Do you think I could find a packet? NO. Of course not. How can I really pay attention with out-of-control children running so erratically that I feared running one of them over with my cart! I could not find a store associate to ask, and the crowd (AND NOISE) had me feeling all twitchy-like. If Nick had been with me, he would have fist-pumped me saying, "cats are the way to go."

So I check out after the lady in front of me had the cashier scan about 50 coupons, all of which turned out to be expired. I was feeling testy as my turn came. The little machine asked me if I wanted cash back. Well, I did...but the hell if I'd ask for it. I didn't want anything more to do with that place. Just give me my bags and live me the **bleep** alone.

I stalked to the end of the parking lot with my things, cooling down none at all. I stashed everything in the back and jammed my key into the ignition. Merging onto the highway upon which I usually love to speed in my cute little red car, I went the speed limit exactly. Not even five over. I would have been more considerate had there been traffic behind me, but I was free to be as poky as I please. I was totally and utterly spent. The NOISE! Does it ever turn off?? Sophie barely even meows!

The light turns green and I am rationalizing that I have all the ingredients at home to make the CM "juice" from scratch. An intersection later and I'm pissy (yes, I said pissy) all over again because no, I don't have everything. I used the rest of the butter the other day to make PUMPKIN-RAISIN COOKIES. I slam my palm against the wheel and color the inside of my Mazda with a little noise of my own.

I am resigned to stopping at the small-town grocery store now. It's the only option I have left—that, or abandon the project all together, which would have had my banging my head against a concrete wall that I put myself through all that chaos for nothing. I have another term that describes it better, but the world need not know that I can swear like a sailor when my ire is good and gotten.

So, I whip into the small, poorly designed parking lot and slam my door outside the little and expensive local store. The automatic door slithers open with the softest hiss…and inside? Muted conversation, the soothing hum of the lights. In short, sanity. I walk down the cereal aisle for kicks and giggles and right away, right where they should be, should always be, was a bevy of flavor packets. TONS of them. I think I stuffed 10 of 'em in my basket. Off to get the butter/shortening substitute, I pass the cheese curds.

Hmm. Yes. After my afternoon, I could stand a little sqeaky cheese. I throw a bag in my basket before grabbing the Smart Balance. Rounding my way back to the registers, with a much more sprightly, Laura-like outlook, I pass the spirits section. Hmm. Yes. Some of that too. I grab a sixer of John Adams Cherry Wheat.

I check out, having an altogether delightful conversation with the cashier. Humming happily, I walk to my car. Serenely pulling from the lot, I navigate home. Of course the store I initially sought to avoid should be the saving grace of my excursion. Life is nothing if not ironic.

Home. The quiet place. The place I love. Nick helps me carry in groceries as I tell my story, my dander ascending all over again. I saw sympathy in his eyes, sympathy and relief that he did not have to endure the wretches of that Madison store along with me. We both just really like quiet.

Swallowing some cheese and tossing back some beer, the tension began to release, and I began mixing my ingredients.

The spicy scent of Worcestershire sauce does smell so heavenly upon the crisp autumn air!

Apparently sitting before her food dish to eat is just too much work.

Sophie has taken to lounging while she eats. She stretches on her side, pulls her food dish to her with one paw, and dips that paw in so that the little food pellets fall before her face.

If she were Egyptian, she'd have a shirtless servant feeding her grapes.

I should be bothered at the laziness, but I am more impressed that she's figured out how to eat with even less effort. She's an efficient little fuzzball.

I don't know that Nick was much on coffee pre-Laura, but nowadays he's good for a cup every morning. Two years ago I remember needing to get more coffee filters for the coffeemaker. I reached for the 500 pack, and Nick cried, "500!? We'll never get through those!" I remember thinking to myself, Oh, Please... I grabbed a piddly 200 pack instead.

We needed coffee filters again as of last weekend. We were at Sam's club to buy salmon and tilapia and we came upon the coffee filters. Eagerly, I reached for the 1000 pack. Nick, predictably, had a fit. "1000!? That's A LOT!" Then, he surprised me, pointing at another location on the shelf. "Let's get the 700 pack instead."

I think he's beginning to realize that, coffee filters in bulk? Yeah, we'll get through those.

The cashier rang me up, saying, "That'll be $9.50 even."—one of those moments when you smile and pretend that that last statement made sense.

Later at PetSmart, that cashier rang me up, saying, "$14.00 even." I nearly paid an extra 50¢ purely for making sense.

This is from our trip on the Kickapoo River this past weekend. When we got home we thought the video(s) where something out of a video game. All we needed was to have guns mounted on the boat and we would be set.

(posted by Nick)

In the mood for a little Andrea Bocelli this morning, I played "Con te Partiro" from my iTunes library. I love this song more than words can adequately portray. I do not know a stitch of Italian, yet the first time I heard the song in the late '90's I felt a connection. This song sounds like goodbye. Goodbyes are hard, even if they are good for you. Their memories are bittersweet.

So there I sat with my laptop, eyes closed and tears welling, when I feel something not a little fluffy at my hip. Sophie stared intently at the computer that was producing the noise, before closing her eyes and beginning to purr. I doubt she knows any more Italian than I do…but then, hearts need very little translation.

I am done with econ. I handed in my final last night after spending most of yesterday writing and refining my essay. I planned to finish marketing yesterday too, but as always, econ used more of my resources than I was expecting. I typed up 500 words and then my brain clamped shut and I spent the last two hours of my night limp on the couch. This morning? My head is pounding and I feel a little sick.

I have exorcised you, econ!