Unfortunately, all of my witty plans for entries from stories from the last couple of weeks have evaded me. Runningwise, I conquered half of Pikes Peak twice, up to Barr Trail without too much trouble (although I did flex my walking muscles a fair bit), as well as competing in a race on the Fourth of July. I adventured through Northern California, tasting the sweet grapes of Domaine Carneros, dipping in serene pools in the Sonoma Valley, jogged with co workers through vineyards and forests, played with doggies named Merlot, dominated at bocce, and had a field day in San Francisco. San Francisco, by the way, is quite the treat. I recommend going there for the best ever pumpkin curry, attending GOOD parties, and meeting crazies. I am currently in the process of moving my home, and discovering all the glories of painting (picture to come upon completion).

Please do not proceed reading this post unless you have read through Book 6 of Harry Potter, and seen through Season 3 of the OC!

My latest pondering is such: as small children, we make friends with imaginary characters. Is it reasonable to continue to have imaginary friends as an adult? I have found that in my “adult” life, I have grown to have the same emotional attachment to characters that are in movies and books, and that I sometimes connect with them even more than with real people in my life. It is not every character, or even every character that I like, but I have two relationships that I hate to have lost. Marissa Cooper, and Albus Dumbledore are two people that I really do miss. I will plead in my mind for them to reappear in a dream sequence or in the afterlife, anything so that I can keep loving them. What causes this attachment to characters. Sometimes I feel like I am on glue when I miss them. Is it a well created character that grips the mind and heart so much, or is it a mental disorder that I have? The jury is still out, but if you have any thoughts, let me know.