What a long strange week it's been (with apologies to the Grateful Dead)

It's been a long, strange week. My daughter is growing in understanding every day while I watch, stunned. It's cliche, I know. But I had no idea it would happen this fast.

And she's a Daisy scout now. And she has a best friend. And a little guy with a crush on her, and she on him.

Also, I'm physically exhausted. My dear Liv has taken to waking me at 2 am to crawl into bed. I enjoy holding her very much. It's a great feeling right up until the alarm rings at 0600 and it's time to start another day running.

I've taught a ton of classes, did a ton of training (for work) and actually hurt my own abdominals while teaching abs class today. That almost never happens. I guess my students will not be thinking fondly of me tomorrow when they wake up.

There's a movement afoot to make me move from water to land classes (sounds like evolution, yes?)-- just weight routines, not aerobics. Probably too late for this session, but the idea is appealing. With my teaching schedule and other comitments, I don't get much time in the weight room anymore. This might fix that.

In other news, I heard from someone I used to know well a long time ago-- just popped up out of the blue, thanks to electronic networking. There's nothing like it to make you remember who you were so long ago. I was young and so much hadn't happened to me yet. It's lovely to think back to those happy, halcyon times.

There was a whole group of us-- completely inseparable. We roamed like a pack. I'll never forget my roommate's look of terror the first time he got a tattoo (Trader Bob's in the City). Poor SOB. We all laughed so hard and he got so mad. Beer can towers in my apartment. Playing three man. Seeing our favorite bands. Pale Divine's farewell concert. We never got to a bar before 11 pm at the earliest. Nothing good happened before then, anyway. We played cards and talked trash (and I changed clothes about a million times) until it was time to head out. The boys placed over/under bets on my wardrobe changes for the evening, I believe.

And then there were a thousand misdeeds that we somehow got away with. It seemed all so daring and romantic back then. We were young, good-looking (well they sure and the hell were spectacularly so; maybe I was) and absolutely fearless.

Okay, if I burst into any song from "The Way We Were," somebody slap me. But they were very good times and, now that I've heard from the one most dear to me, I think I can be forgiven a little nostalgia and a little regret for letting that all float away somehow.

Good memories. A little sad.