Greetings from the homeland.

Came to my parents house for the night so dad could do a little maintenance on the old Cavalier. I, uh, did a little damage to the power steering last week whilst stuck in a blizzard-laden parking lot. English translation: whoops. Turns out you shouldn't crank the shit out of the steering wheel when trying to get out of the snow. You break things. SNAP. Just like that. But $90 and one MacGyver of a dad later, and it's good as new!

So, thanks, dad! Also thank to my parents for the pizza (with extra cheese), the two loads of clean laundry and the late-night viewing of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

This is why I love coming home. I love the smell of home. The food at home. The snow at home. The Christmas tree at home. The dog and cats at home. Everything at home is shinier. Prettier. Like, literally. Seriously. You should see the HD on this flat screen. Ridiculous. And don't even get my started on the Wal-Mart in this uppity town. Even the Wal-Mart is shiny and pretty. And clean. And bearable. And I cannot believe I just said that.

Sigh.

Home.

I'll be back in four days for Christmas. CHRISTMAS, you guys. How did that sneak up on us so quickly? Wasn't yesterday, like, July? And I was basking in the sun at the local pool? Getting tanlines from tanktops on 18-mile training runs?

Speaking of, I ran 14 miles this morning. Just busted 'em out like a bat out of hell. Only 22 left to go before the big 1-0-0-0. Yes. Yes, I am patting myself on the back. That's what blogs are for.

OK, you crazy kids, you. Time to finish watching some Harry Potter. I'll close my eyes when Dumbledore dies. And in the meantime, enjoy this fine picture of my furry brother, Ozzie. He says hi.