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I celebrate the holidays with my friends with an annual fondue party. Everyone brings something to dip or the dip itself. One person noted at last night’s get together that we’ve mostly known each other now for twenty years.
Perhaps because we’re from Colorado, or simply our generation, not sure, but we are an athletic lot. Not necessarily healthy. A fair number of us have replacement body parts. Several have artificial knees and ventured how it would be cool to eventually get blade runners. So much of our talk centers on our sports pursuits and our decaying health. Half my group of friends could easily pass for under forty by looks, but to listen to us talk you’d guess closer to sixty. Ask us how we’re doing and replies come back enumerating blood counts and protein deficiencies. This has to be a sign of aging.
My friends are well educated and all lateral thinkers, so conversation can steer in any direction. But we tend toward the inane and don’t often discuss politics. With that said, I barely arrived last night before being asked if I believed in God, and the Russian investigation did come up at one point. Maybe we’re maturing. Probably not though. As discussion turned toward the recent spate of celebrity sexual abuse allegations, there were no deep thoughts on the need to establish equality and respect for women in general. It was all jokes, with the most ribald coming from the ladies. Apparently aging and maturity are two different things.
For my part, trying to come off sounding clever and sophisticated, I brought up bitcoin and blockchain tech, letting everyone know of my recent Amazon order for a hardware wallet. I was immediately challenged to explain the value of this virtual commodity. I couldn’t. Honestly, I don’t even understand how we derive value from fiat currencies. Some things though are like time travel, trying to understand how they work ruins the story. I’m not investing in bitcoin. I just like to participate in tech to better understand it. That’s what writers do in order to speak to things. They experience it. I’ll purchase less bitcoin than I spent on the wallet.
In the end, it didn’t matter what we talked on, the talking itself was the means to the end. Seeing everyone doing well and sharing in laughter has launched my holiday season with good cheer. Karen has our house looking festive and I’m excited now to visit family at the end of the year. Happy holidays everyone.







Want to flatter a writer? Send them a selfie reading their book. Works for me. This man has nerd written all over him. My target audience. My tribe.
I find myself this morning faced with an epic moral dilemma. I don’t play facebook games. Those analog chain letters with specious purpose. At their worse, they propagate stealthy adware. At best, they strive to trend a positive mood for the world.





Heil Valley Ranch presents a runner with pine trees. Not aspen. Fall still shows herself though in the slow, burnt-orange grasses. Trail runners feel entitled to watch the change of seasons, to heighten their discernment of the dimming light. Upside down from spring growth, life is pausing toward winter death. Trail runners know the color of this pending cessation. They’re not satisfied until they smell the air, and feel it on their skin. My running has kept pace with the fall cycle, winding down until my legs are in preservation mode. Immersion in the season with a mountainside view makes everything okay.
How big is your wallet? Look at the objects on this tabletop. I bet your wallet is not as big as Dmitri’s is. I don’t really know his name. Like any other guy, I was minding my own business in the hotel lobby when I was engulfed by a gaggle of techies attending some international conference for the betterment of humanity. This guy sits in front of me, blocking my view of equally attractive people, and proceeds to pull out his wallet. Seemingly to make room for, not just one, but two smart phones.








I continued my hiking with Rob on the Continental Divide Trail (CDT) near Steamboat Springs this past weekend. We’ve been hiking northbound generally but the most efficient car shuffle for this outing suggested a southbound route. We hiked two sections southbound, first 15 miles from 




































With Zach up from Austin, we thought he’d like to see what Colorado looks like, from the top. So we hiked up 13,223 foot 









Trails will kill you if you’re not careful. In this photo, biologist Bob examines the skeletal remains of a deer that we ran by just short of two miles on the Picture Rock Trail this morning. Keith, Joey and I didn’t wait around for the lecture to finish before we screamed up the mountain at a strong pace, that is until Joey stumbled over a rock near four miles and landed hard. We took the final mile up a bit more conservative. I should mention that Joey is only in Middle School. Don’t think I ran more than three miles until my sophomore year of high school.