They know me, they *really* really know me!

I apologize for this week's harried schedule, but I only just flew in late last night (truly, from a place where I could not have reached out and touched the Interwebs even if I had begged, bribed and shown tit) and here I am again, for the second time in four days, telling a taxi driver to "book it, please" to Reagan National for another early morning flight to the nation's most dangerous - and oversized-fleece-henley favoring - city.

Though I planned to spend last night exclusively with Monte working through the abandonment issues trips like this inevitably conjure up in his precious, sensitive soul, I couldn't help but sit down for a few moments and share with you just how fortunate I feel to have friends who know me well -- who really, really know me well.

I only hope my presents made their recipients feel a fraction of how special these five below made me feel.

I saw, I mentioned, and holy sh*t, I received! If only all things in life were this simple. Now before you prattle on about how unsightly my unmentionables' drawer is (packing will do that, don't you know), why not focus on the milestone that is this stacked heel. On my foot. In a non-ironic fashion statement. A first but definitely not a last thanks to E2's introduction. If you too would like a taste of the Modern Vintage, head over to heels.com and check out my pretty (not so) little pumps for yourself...

Hot Redhead Lawyer brought my fantasy of the Cathy Horyn lullaby to life. I can actually hear the purr of her "Al-berrr El-baaaaaz" as I carefully take in all my new favorite picture book has to offer.

D's encouragement of what Brooke dubs my "bad taste" in movies has me seriously considering a Thu-Sun move back to the Midwest. That and our shared love for all things Miller not in a glass, thank you. But for serious, if you're an '80s action film aficionado like I am and missed the first on-screen Swayze/Grey magic like I somehow did, MapQuest yourself a field trip into the deep-red of Virginia to get your copy of the new collector's edition of Red Dawn at any one of the Wal-Mart or Super Wal-Mart locations in zat zing zey call suburban sprawl.

What's left to say that isn't covered by, "He's in bed by 8pm" and "He'll appreciate you more than any man your age"? Leave it to C to rummage up this gem.

And most unexpected and touching of them all was the gift of R's faith in my future success. "New York dreams for the new year," the card read, and there, just below his signature, folded neatly in half -- a DC/NYC round-trip ticket on the Acela.

For those of you who are headed home today for the holidays, have a safe flight, move to the right of the moving-walk if you wish to stand, and please, for goodness sake, resist the urge to share your EvangeCube with the person seated next to you. Not only could you possibly be proselytizing to a woman whose only belief in higher powers extends to that which was imparted to her in All Dogs Go To Heaven but you're also setting a really awkward tone for when you later ask to read her copy of Bazaar.

Great to be back,

Johanna