AR: Do you train year-round, or is there an off-season/on-season?

SE: I might perform better if I took a month or two off each year – most of the top competitors do. But I’m really more interested in doing what I love – running – than in winning races. I do cross-train (bicycle, ski, snowshoe, aerobics) whenever the running starts to feel stale or tedious.

AR: Do you have a coach now?

Since I’ve been ultrarunning, I’ve had two coaches, each for a relatively brief period of time. Both taught me a lot about the sport, improved my running form and made me faster and stronger. But both experiences took some of the joy out of running for me. I started to forget that I run because I love it and not because I need to win.

AR: How much does it cost (time/money/bodily sacrifice/emotional/mental)?

SE: The biggest cost is in time. I think it would be very difficult to balance ultrarunning with a full-time job, a family and other interests, but I know ultrarunners who do. For Peter and me, it’s a way of life. We both love running (and a variety of other sports) and we’ve structured our lives around it. Emotionally and mentally, ultrarunning has only been to my benefit. There’s nothing like a long run in the Boulder foothills to clear the mind and cheer the heart.

AR: Describe to me the best race moment ever?

SE: Finishing Leadville the first time. It was my second 100-miler. My first was Rocky Racoon in Huntsville, TX. I had a ball there – no problems. I said to myself, “I was made for this sport.” Leadville was different. I suffered a lot during that race. I threw up for 60 miles. When I finished that race, I felt like I could do anything.

AR: What about the worst race moment ever?

SE: The worst moment was also at Leadville. I was in third place at mile 87, the last aid station. I realized that I was so far ahead of fourth place that I could probably walk every step of the last 15 miles and still be third. I took comfort in that plan until my crew said, “Second place is laying on a cot, and first is only 13 minutes ahead of you.” After momentary elation, the horrible reality set in. Instead of settling into a death slog to the finish, I would have to bust my butt to try to catch number one and stay ahead of number two. I ran every step to the finish. Unfortunately, so did Amanda MacIntosh. She beat me by 12 minutes.

AR: What are the top five best things about being an ultra runner?

SE:

1. You can always get there from here (no worries if your car breaks down).

2. You have a kind of “freak-show” appeal at dinner parties.

3. It’s cheap entertainment.

4. You can eat anything you want.

5. You always know what you’re going to do on the weekends.

AR: Five pieces of advice for people looking to ultra-run or who are signed up for that first race?

SE:

1. Someone once said to me, “The key to finishing a 100-mile race is take it really easy for the first 30 miles.”

I responded, “Who are you kidding? The key to finishing a 100-mile race is to take it really easy for the first 100 miles.”

I stand by that statement.

2. If you keep going when you want to quit you’ll only suffer until the end of the race. If you quit, you’ll suffer for a whole year until you have a chance to prove yourself at that race again. (This is paraphrasing Ken Chlober, the race director for the Leadville 100 Trail Run.)

3. Just keep going.

4. Don’t forget to use sport slick [to avoid painful chafing)!

5. Don’t forget your shoes – anything else you can beg, borrow or steal.

AR: What’s the average age of ultra runners, and what do you think accounts for this?

SE: I’d guess 30-50. There are very few top ultrarunners in their 20s. I suspect that this is because ultras require a certain amount of patience that usually comes with age. I’ve noticed that the best women ultrarunners tend to be in their childbearing years, when pain tolerance seems to be particularly high.

AR: How fast do women run compared to men?

SE: As in other sports, women are consistently slower than men. There are a few women…well, one, Anne Trason, who seems to be closing the gap, but this is not the norm. Nonetheless, I think women make terrific ultrarunners –they tend to pace themselves better than men and often have a better ability to overcome adversities that arise during a race.

AR: How long do you see yourself doing this competitively?

SE: Well, my Dad is 68 and competing in 100-mile and 24-hour races. I just hope I have some of his great genetics ’cause I’d sure like to be cleaning up in my age group when I’m 70!

AR: How, when and why did you get involved in ultra-running?

SE: I started to get the ultra bug in 1996. I’d been running longer and longer runs and doing some races – a few 10K’s, half-marathons and longer trail races like Imogene Pass in Ouray/Telluride. I’d noticed that the longer the race, the better I did and the more I enjoyed it. I also went to a lecture that year by Alene Nitsky in Fort Collins about her experiences running Leadville. I thought, “I can do that!” And, when she said that her favorite training food was Twizzlers, I knew that it was the sport for me!

AR: What was your athletic background previous to that?

SE: I get my love of the outdoors and of physical challenges from my Dad, a longtime runner, mountaineer and outdoorsman. In my early teens we climbed a lot of fourteeners together.

I met my husband, Peter Bakwin [a gifted, all-around athlete], when I was 16 and have spent the last 22 years trying to keep up with him – on foot, road and mountain bikes, skis and snowshoes, and in canoes and rafts.

Running has always been my mainstay though. It’s strongly connected to my sense of who I am. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t run.

AR: Why did/does it appeal to you?

Ultrarunning suits my running strengths and personality. I’m not a speedy or gifted runner, but I have great endurance, a high pain threshold and a strong will. I also just really love to run – the more the better – and, frankly, I’ve never been one for moderation. As my husband’s uncle says, “If it’s worth doing at all, it’s worth doing to excess.”

I also enjoy observing and experiencing the human drama that unfolds during an ultra. It’s a microcosm of life – you experience joy, fear, despair, exhilaration, anger, frustration, excitement and ecstasy…all in the course of a day.

AR: What was your first race experience - when, and how did it go?

SE: I ran my first ultra, the Platte River 30 mile, in October of 1996. It was 30 miles of concrete through the industrial sections of Denver. There were only four of us entered in the solo division, and I won by attrition. The following week I could barely walk, but I was hooked.

AR: How many races do you do a year now?

I do between six and eight races each year ranging in distance from marathon to 100-mile and 24-hour races.

AR: What are your top finishes?

SE: I placed second at Leadville in 1999 (22:17), only 12 minutes behind the winner. My time made me the 7th fastest woman ever to run Leadville. In 2000 I was third at both Leadville (23:19) and Western States (the largest and most prestigious ultra in the U.S) (21:45.) I was especially proud of the latter as I competed against (and beat) some of the top ultrarunning women in the country and world. Probably my best performance in ultrarunning was at the 1999 Across the Years 24 hour race. I ran 128.99 miles, winning the race overall (men and women)and setting the woman’s course record (which still stands.) It was the seventh best all-time 24 hour performance by a North American woman.

AR: What are your goals for the future?

SE: My primary goal is to stay healthy and injury-free so I can continue to run ultras for many years to come. There are so many races that I would love to do – Hardrock, the Spartathalon (150 miles from Sparta to Greece), a six-day track race, and the Trans Gaule, an 18 day stage race across France.

AR: What does it take to be a successful ultra-runner?

SE: Really the only requirement is that you LOVE to run, because you’re going to spend a heck of a lot of time training. Mental toughness is useful too. It’s often said, regarding a 100-miler, that the first 50 miles are physical while the last 50 are mental.

AR: How do you train - describe a typical week?

SE: As I said, I’m a woman of extremes. I tend to undertrain or overtrain, and I’m still trying to find a balance. Last year I was in the throes of massage school and found it difficult to get the miles in. I ran when I could – almost always with a huge stack of study notecards. I raced well because I was fresh physically and psychologically – I was getting by on fewer than 50 miles each week and was chomping at the bit to do a long race. On the other end of the spectrum, last fall I started working with a coach. My program included speed work, hills, tempo runs, no rest days and weekly mileage between 100 and 120 miles. I was in the best shape of my life until, of course, I got injured. It was a wake-up call for me. I do best when I don’t worry about the miles –when I listen to my body, run how I feel and enjoy the process.

…to be continued

Our body produces fingernails. They are a fibrous protein called keratin and one of the body’s strongest tissues. Like the rest of the body, nail health depends on getting the proper nutrients to maintain their natural color and shape.

Many of us use our nails to open containers, scratch off stickers, pull out staples or type on keys all day. We have tried the Gelatine hardener formulas and even taken Gelatine supplements, as it is said to have proteins that strengthen our nails. Yet we have also found it has not stood up to its claims of miracle nails in a week. The reason is it doesn’t have the sulphur containing tryptophan and other amino acids necessary for nail formation.

Fingernails may reveal a lot about the state of your health. Vitamin B deficiency may result in ridges. Lack of calcium can result in dryness, brittleness and white patches. A deficiency of zinc, Vitamin B6 or Folic acid, can be the perpetrator of hangnails. Pale, spoon shaped, grooved nails could be as sign of anemia and the need for more iron or B12; while thick, hard nails may suggest circulatory problems, perhaps related to arteriosclerosis or diabetes. If they’re also yellowed, they may be infected with a fungus (most often in toenails), a fairly common problem, which affects about one in 25 people, particularly older adults. If you see white streaks that run the length of the nail, it could indicate heart disease. A bluish tint may be a sign of asthma or emphysema.

Over the years, the body has a harder time holding on to moisture, resulting in thin, brittle nails. You can help preserve the youth and usefulness of your nails by keeping them short — so they’re less prone to cracks and breaks — and wearing gloves when doing chores that involve harsh cleansers.

A balanced diet goes a long way toward healthy, good-looking nails. Make sure you are eating foods that provide your nails with these nutrients. B vitamins, particularly B6, can be found in tuna, bananas, rice bran and prunes. B12 can be found in fish, meats and eggs. Folic acid is plentiful in lentils, black beans and asparagus. Vitamin C is present in sweet peppers, watermelon, sunflower seeds, blueberries, pumpkin and strawberries.  Eat poultry and meat  for iron and soy products, yogurt for calcium. Increase your intake of omega 3s and omega 6s, the fatty acids if you find your nails cracking. Good sources of these are primrose and flaxseed oils.

Some herbal remedies that can be used will be a drop of tea tree oil or Lavender oil spread on the nail two or three times daily to treat infections. Or to strengthen nails, try a cup of Oat Straw horsetail or nettle tea daily.

White Blood Cells breaks down into three sets of songs: the first 7 songs; three slower, less inspired numbers in the middle; and then a stretch of six, marginally more experimental songs. In the first set of songs, the fourth track, “Fell in Love With a Girl”, is a traditional rocker with a fantastic screeching chorus. It makes me want to throw paint. The seventh track, “the Union Forever”, features spoken word performances by Jack White which fall between Leonard Cohen and Lou Reed in style and substance. This track’s vocals alternate between rapid spoken word and the slower, bluesy voice Jack White exhibits when he is not screeching desperately. During the spoken word parts, the song acquires a theatricality that is picked up again in the third set of songs on the album. In this opening set of seven songs, the White Stripes mix it up: the opener “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground” is a screechy blues number, the second, “Hotel Yorba”, possesses a country sensibility, and the third, “I’m Finding it Harder to be a Gentleman”, churns slowly. The superior production of this album has vastly broadened the range and texture of Jack White’s voice. On the sixth track, “Little Room”, White’s vocals sound live and almost confidential, paired with only percussion.

The middle stretch of songs fall flat. While the vocals are plaintive and the songs pretty enough, they don’t go much of anywhere. The eleventh track, “I Think I Smell A Rat”, breaks up the pattern and ushers in the final sweep of experimental songs. This one sounds like it was intended for a musical or the cabaret. The next track seems to be instrumental. And it is experimental in the sense of being largely unlistenable, a gurgling, distortion-heavy piece of industrial stuff. The country inflection returns in the fourteenth track, “Now Mary”. And the last track, “This Protector”, introduces Meg White joining Jack White on vocals, backed by Jack White on piano. It is simple, intimate, and compelling.

A number of things go unanswered. The liner notes contain an uncredited paragraph about a brother and a sister. The picture of a metamegakaryocyte suggests that large white blood cells are the album’s focus. The red and white theme seems to have something to do with De Stijl, an artistic movement of the 20s and 30s focused on minimalist design, often in primary colors. I guess minimalism finds its way into the music. But it is not really minimalism. If Son House and Loretta Lynn write minimalist music, then that is the spirit of minimalism the White Stripes evoke.

The White Stripes material is not topical. They do not write whimsical songs of fleeting youth and wilted relationships. They are not a sentimental band. But they are teaching us something about authentic songs and the kinds of traditional material belted out by bluesmen and countrysingers. They are taking the urgency and magic of those songs and learning how to adapt it to their own uses.

It is quite tempting to imagine Jack White forming an indictment against the frontier mentality here, but it could be that his girl likes gold, petrol, boats, and fancy houses. By choosing to write songs of oblique but intense drama, The White Stripes fall well outside the parameters of successful acts in music. By choosing to write songs in the larger spirit of Son House and Loretta Lynn, The White Stripes have created the minimal sound of rock today.
Can’t keep away from this girl These two sides of my brain Need to have a meeting Can’t think of anything to do My left brain knows that All love is fleeting She’s just looking for something new And I said it once before But it bares repeating

Word. This is a great album. Buy it and listen to it.

Sue Torrence, MS, PT, ATC, of Boulder Center for Sports Medicine says that she often recommends that her athlete-clients use a hot tub if they have access to one.

“(Using a hot tub) is good especially after exercising,” she said. “It helps increase blood flow to the tissue, promotes healing and (the transport of) nutrients, and decreases muscle tension and stiffness while increasing general mobility.”

Michael Gummerson, MS, PT of PRO Physical Therapy in Boulder agreed with this assessment. In addition, he said, hot tubs can help decrease muscle spasms and soothe aching muscles.

“There is no question that when it comes to sore muscles, the hot tub is the best,” avowed local Ironman triathlete Brad Fawcett. “At the peak of my racing, I use it three days a week (post-workout). But I’d turn to Jell-O if I sat in the hot tub before working out!”

Fawcett has the hot-tub routine down right, according to the experts. He uses the hot tub preventatively and post-workout to treat his workout-induced muscular aches and pains. Torrence stressed that athletes should not sit in the tub immediately before a strenuous workout, nor should they transition directly from workouts or competitions to the whirlpool. Instead, athletes should allow their bodies time to cool down, stretching out their muscles before they hit the tub.

In addition to the possible negative effects of overheating, dehydration and increased fatigue to be aware of when you go for a soak in the whirlpool, both Gummerson and Torrence warned of the potential harm that can come from sitting in the hot tub following an acute injury.

“If you have an acute injury I wouldn’t recommend (the hot tub) – it can increase inflammation,” said Gummerson. “If you have a specific injury during practice or competition, I would get ice on it first.”

For chronic injuries, Torrence often recommends that athletes ice the painful area immediately after finishing an activity that places stress on it. They can then follow the icing with heat – including a session in the hot tub – later.

As for tub do’s and do not’s, they’re pretty simple. A general rule is not more than 10-15 minutes per soak. The water temperature should fall between 98 and 104 degrees, and alcoholic beverages should not be part of the picture (they can increase dehydration and impair judgment in more ways than one). People with heart or lung conditions, or any serious illness or medical conditions should consult with a physician before using a hot tub (as should pregnant women). For more specific safety guidelines, please visit the Web site www.arthritis.org/answers/water_exercise.asp.

One last caveat: while they seem sexy, hot tubs have actually been fingered as culprits in cases of male infertility – it seems that the little guys like it cool. So if your honey’s trying to conceive, it’s probably best to forgo this particular luxury for a time.

Otherwise, after your next hard day, as you sink back, relax, and treat yourself to a nice big tub of bubbly, remember that you’re following the advice of experts!

Gardening is my passion. I was really disgruntled when physical challenges meant that I needed to cut back or even give up my outdoor gardening. My large perennial beds required a great deal of weeding and general maintenance. This was rather difficult to accomplish from a lawn chair. It was time for some drastic changes.

During the past few years, I have been studying alpine plants. Cushion plants in particular have attracted my attention. These are normally small plants and need to be viewed up close to fully appreciate their beauty. I learned that many alpine gardeners grow cushion plants in troughs or containers. In Europe, alpine houses are used to over-winter the individually potted plants. Troughs are the best option for me since I can’t have an alpine house.

While recovering from a total knee replacement in the spring of 2009, I spent my time learning all I could about trough gardening and alpine plants in general. This research increased my fascination with these plants to the point that converting my existing perennial beds to rock gardens is an on-going project which will take about 3 years to complete. A great deal of research went into finding a way to renovate my gardens so they would be low maintenance and still satisfying to me.

First, I drew up plans for my intended renovated gardens and acquired permission from the townehouse management to continue with my plans. Then, I hired a teenager to do the physical labor of the renovations. A future article will feature the step-by-step process of renovating my backyard gardens.

Once I was able to drive again, I made a few trips to local garden centers to find some choice alpine plants. My choices included Dianthus, Sedums, Sempervivums, Penstemons, Andraces, Saxifrages, and Lewisias. A few other plant genera were trailed too.

Michigan just came through one of the coldest winters we’ve had for a few years. This proved to be a great year for trailing the above plant genera to see if they would thrive in a small raised bed, troughs raised above ground level, and even holes in cement blocks. Although I suffered some losses, I found most of my favorite genera thrived in their new homes. Gardening has been pure pleasure this year!

Description: Artichokes are like a flower bud or can look like green pine cones. It is native to the Mediterranean region where this part of the world has the lowest rates of chronic disease. Because of the amount of effort it takes to clean this veggie, it is not thought of as an “everyday” vegetable. The fresh taste is definitely worth the effort. If you are short on time, you can buy ready-to-eat hearts in cans or jars from your grocery. Generally you would not use artichokes as a main course since only 20 percent of the leaf is eaten but can be used successfully as an hors d’oeuvre. The edible parts are the heart of the flower bud and the leaf sections.

Nutrient content A medium artichoke has about 25 calories and has 16 essential nutrients. It is a cholesterol free, low in sodium, a source of fiber, vitamin C, folate and magnesium. Also, it has no fat. Current studies show that artichokes have antioxidant properties that may help the liver regenerate healthy tissue.

Peak season: Available all year around. The traditional season is spring but are more plentiful in late fall and early summer. Miniature artichokes are grown in California. Castroville, California, designates itself as the “Artichoke Capital of the World”.

Selection: You will be choosing single artichokes rather than artichokes by the pound, unless it is the miniature size. Select artichokes that have closed buds. If you try to bend back the outer leaf and it snaps off, then the artichoke is fresh. The artichoke should be green with no yellow or brown spots. Look for medium-size artichokes (about 8 ounces) rather than large ones, which will have a woody taste. Too small artichokes will be too hard to clean. The stem can be almost as delicious as the heart and worth a try.

Storage: Will keep several days in a plastic bag in the refrigerator.

Preparation: Artichokes can be steamed, braised, grilled, pan-fried or roasted.

Training for the world of cuisine starts early in France; by the age of 16, chef wanna-be’s are applying for the CAP or the certificat d’aptitude professionnelle, or the BEP; the brevet d’etudes professionnelles. Both the CAP and the BEP teach the fundamentals pretty rigorously, but the brevet is more technically oriented.

It’s pretty hard to bribe your way into schools, but don’t get all depressed yet. There are staterun scools, the private technical schools and apprentice training centers so there’s lots of opportunities around to try for.

By far the most interesting aspect of these schools are the ‘training restaurants’ or the restaurant d’application. These are the places where the dress rehearsals for future foodies take place, and you get to eat your own food. If you’re backpacking around France, and you need a cheap place to eat, call ahead and save some cash on this little known secret; the edible and pretty cheap world of chef training. You have to make reservations for these places because you’re taking part in the food hospitality and service training. If you take a look around these ‘restaurants’ you’ll notice a professor or two patrolling the room-it really unnerves the students and you can hear how nervous they are.

The apprenticeships or stagesof these hands-on professional programs are really different from those you get elsewhere in the world. There’s literally a medieval bent to the whole rigamarole, with indentures that legally enforce contracts and the minimum wage, along with tons of daily mind-numbing tasks of endless peeling, rinsing, picking over crabmeat, and did I mention peeling?

But if these tasks turn you off, just remember that the appreticeship is your chance to have your talent singled out. A favorable glance from a great chef, or a comment that he finds a sauce “acceptable” can greatly ease a student’s future. Sometimes, a full-time job awaits students upon graduation which means a mentor is ready-made for you.

Days for chefs-in-training are long, exhausting and gruelling, with great accuracy as to what your days working in kitchens will be like. This shows that CAP and BEP are just the beginning. Some students go on for an additional year to get a specialist’s qualification degree, on dessert-making, or entree-assembly or soup-making.

The most gifted students get the chance to earn a brevet professionnel certificate, a full professional diploma or the superior technical certificate, the Technical Diploma (Baccalaureat technologique)

Paris is home to two of France’s most-respected cooking schools; the Mederic and the Ferrandi. Mederic’s official muckety-muck name is the Ecole Hoteliere de Paris Jean Drouant-a real mouthful, so it’s better known by the street it’s on. The school was established in 1936, but don’t judge a cooking school by its building. Millions have been spent on the ultra-modern teaching and cooking facilities inside, over fourteen thousand square feet of it!

Ferrandi, not too far away from Mederic, is part of the vocational school known as Groupe Gregoire-Ferrandi. Founded in 1932 by the Chambre de Commerce et d’Industrie de Paris, Ferrandi trains professionals in all aspects of food handling, from bread baking, to finshmongery, catering and restaurant service.

Leading chefs serve as associate professors, and there’s a graduate program for restaurateurs and caterers at Ferrandi. There are weekly demonstrations from the chefs and students; a real treat for visitors.

It used to be a France-only establishment, but classes are now provided in English. The bad news is that Ferrandi accepts just 20, that’s right, 20, foreign students every year for a CAP course lasting 9 months. There are alternative schools, such as Le Cordon Bleu, for foreigners. The classes at Ferrandi may be held in English, but many exams still have to written in French!

Daddy’s head turned quickly as we heard the front door open, and he pulled my ear to his lips saying, “Mommy approaches. Bow accordingly, then jump on her and kiss her good morning.” Even though I really wanted him to tell me another story, I did what he said.

She paid my babysitter then called my name. When she came in and a ray of sun came through our kitchen window, shining beautifully onto her light eyes and dark skin.

Mommy‘s voice differed from Daddy‘s. She made shivers run down the sides of buildings. Though at times I remember her voice becoming as meek as a mouse when Daddy caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, and kissed her lips. That day she did not look over to Daddy. She hadn’t for two months.

Mommy had been working nights, and was always tired when she returned home in the mornings. She bent down and gave me a hug, while the sting of all the hair spray she wore choked me. For her hair always had to be stiff and perfectly firm. But then she pushed me away. I didn’t know why until she held out her finger, and swung it in the direction of the sink.

“What’s all this?” she said. I looked to see that some of the plates from the sink had been knocked down and the stool was turned over. I was shocked and must have stared for a long time. “Are you going to answer me?”

Mommy’s eyes were slanted down towards me, and she had slightly moved back into the sunlight‘s shadow.

“Do you want to break your neck by trying to fly off the counter,” she yelled. “Just because Daddy use to…” She stopped herself and with her hands shaking, rubbed the sides of her head furiously then looked back down at me. “I don‘t want you to do that again. I‘m just too tired when I come home to worry about you.” I knew I hadn’t jumped from the sink. Daddy had picked me up, of course, but I didn’t want to get him in trouble, so I said nothing and Daddy remained silent.

When Mommy finally gave me a faint smile, I knew she had forgiven me. “I’m going to take a little nap. You could play while I sleep, just don’t do anything dangerous.”

Again Daddy pulled my ear to his lips and said that he would love to have a party, especially one where tea was served. Well, I was an expert at making tea, so I told him to follow me.

“Who ARE you talking to little girl,” asked Mommy? I turned around and Mommy and I both stood there staring at each other. Then Mommy walked to one side of the kitchen. She opened a cupboard and reached inside of it.

“No!” I demanded. I slid out of the kitchen, but her eyes were still on me.

Our living room was a small square, partly outlined by two loveseats. In the center of the square was our round coffee table. On it a single red rose placed in a simple white vase. The patio window set next to the coffee table and the drapes had been split open, letting the morning sun lie upon it. This was where Daddy and I had our tea party.

While I laid out my fine china decorated with pink flowers and Barbie dolls, I looked up onto Daddy’s face. It had become drained and the strength within it had begun to disappear.

I poured him some tea and handed him the cup, and he sipped with a wider smile than Kool-Aid. I pouted my lips and whined. I thought he’d like my tea better than that. So Daddy gulped all my tea down, not leaving a drop, and rubbing his tummy like it was the best thing he had ever had. I smiled and clapped, and was glad he was enjoying himself.

But then I felt a pain in my chest that dragged. That morning I hadn’t wanted to see Mommy. She had yelled at me the other night, because she had said I was talking to myself, and made me feel stupid. But now I didn’t want her to miss out on the fun Daddy and I was having. So I told Daddy just to stay where he was and I would go get her.

When I peeked in her room, Mommy was bouncing on her left side to her right, from her stomach to her back, over and over again. Finally she rested on one side, and as she rested her head down she stared at the empty side of the bed. The blankets and pillows on that side were still neatly folded. Mommy looked at this site, biting her lips and wide- eyed, and out of nowhere ruffled the sheets and spread them as if someone had slept there.

She grabbed the pillow and laid it vertically. Then she caressed it with the back of her hand. She laid her head on this pillow and seemed more relaxed then she had been in a while. I decide not to disturb her after all. Yet I walked away with a new tingle in my head that made me feel uncomfortable.

I hurried to get back to the tea party. “Daddy?” I whispered as I began to run back to the coffee table. But outside, the wind had shifted, never to be changed. The glass had been opened a crack, and a splash of wind had seeped through, moving the drapes and making them waver. To me it was as if I could hear the dragon’s breath upon us. I froze.

I looked at Daddy’s hands and they shook, his teacup rattling endlessly on top of the table. A shadow had draped over his arm, and I knew it at once. The dragon had come to take Daddy away from me again!

Daddy’s eyes were distant and fading and his mouth gaped open. “Daddy not again!” I sunk my head to cry but then…

Bang! I looked up and Daddy’s body had collapsed onto the table. Both of his arms hung off the sides and his head lie flat and motionless. At first I stood with my body shaking like it never had before. I knocked all the remaining teacups off the table trying to wake Daddy but he didn’t move.

Mommy stormed into the room. “What is all this noise? Do you want the landlord to through us out into the street, is that it?” Tears began to come down my face and I looked from her to Daddy, over and over again. Her eyes slanted in on me then moved to where Daddy laid. “Oh, I see. You want you‘re poor mother to go crazy and break her back cleaning up the trash you‘ve left lying around.” I gasped.

Mommy crouched down and looked at Daddy’s body on the table with cold eyes. Even then I thought she would help him, but she did nothing. I think it was then that I almost lost my mind. She had to see. She had to understand that Daddy needed help. I could not believe she wanted Daddy to be taken away from us again, and when I tried to come near him she shoved me away. I don’t know why I did this. I closed my eyes and I spit. I spit as hard as I could right into her damn face!

Then she spoke slowly as if she held many things back. “Okay little girl, THAT- IS- ENOUGH!” She grabbed my wrist so hard she twisted it. She pulled me mercilessly to my bedroom, and away from Daddy. He still lied there. But maybe he could have still gotten up and I had to try.

“Daddy!” Her eyes stared down on me in shock, and then she threw me into my bedroom. When she spoke her voice was choked and cracked.

“That is not fair.” A tear ran down her face. “You need to calm down. I‘m getting them from the cupboard.” She slammed the door and I tried to run to the door and open it but she had locked me in, and I pounded my fists against the door several times before I gave up.

I cried into my hands and then I remembered what Daddy had said once. Once in a white room when he lie in a bed with white sheets. Once when he appeared so awful I became almost afraid to look at him. Once when he asked me to kiss him on his cheek, so he could whisper in my ear. Once Daddy told me that I would always be his princess, and when I slept he would come to visit me in my kingdom. I did not understand why he would have to visit me, but I didn’t say anything then.

I jumped up from the floor and crawled up to my bed as fast as I could. I fell asleep, and I let myself dream:

It was cold at first, a cold that stung your heart. I remained standing nowhere for a long while, and just when I thought I had stood in darkness for more than I could bear I saw a light stretch across the floor, but only to be covered by a shadow. The pace of my heart quickened because I thought it was the dragon. Then I could hardly breathe, because I realized I had begun to walk towards the shadow. It became colder still, and as I continued to walk towards the shadow I closed my eyes.

I started to think that I couldn’t take it. I knew I couldn’t. What would the shadow do to me? What had it done to Daddy? I decided I had to open my eyes then, even if the dragon’s shadow lie right on top of me. I opened them and stood in front of a large square pit. My eyes barely dared to peek inside. When I looked up people who wore black surrounded me, and I noticed I myself wore black.

I started to shake again, and this time it was even worse. I was so scared. I needed someone’s help. My body would not stop shaking!

“What is wrong with you? Just wake up already.” I squinted and I saw Mommy. I sat up and fell into her arms; feeling so scared that I trembled.

“Where’s Daddy? I want Daddy here too,” I pleaded with her, but all she did was sigh.

“He‘s dead, Baby. We already buried him.” Her face was worn out and tired. Just then she raised her head, and she frowned, as a new thought seem to come to her. “He‘s dead,” she said at first solemnly. “He is dead,” she repeated, this time making it sound as if she had finally agreed to something.

Her words were just a blur to me, though. I was scared and all I wanted was… “Can Daddy tell me another story. Please. I promise I won’t cry or yell anymore.”

She turned her attention back to me. “We have to accept it. We both have to accept it.” A tear began to run down her cheek, as she tried to embrace me. She caressed my cheek with the back of her hand. But then she unfolded her hand and in them lay two small white pills.

“Take them. They’ll make you feel better.” I pushed myself away from her and crawled to the edge of the bed.

I looked towards my bedroom window that had been opened a crack. I found myself wishing I could escape. But when the curtains lifted and the shadows swept across my bed, I ran out of my bedroom, leaving my mommy, and screaming for my daddy.

His wife, Kelly, greets him in the kitchen with a warm, “Hello.” She’s tossing the salad by hand while their son Jack sets the table. Calvin sits down and takes a drink from the iced tea that’s beside his plate, then says, “Let’s do something tonight.”

“Like what?” Kelly asks.

“Oh, I don’t know just something, different. Maybe one of those new clubs downtown.”

“Dancing? You want to go dancing?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“I’d love to, but there’s no way we could get a sitter now. Maybe tomorrow, or next weekend.”

“Yeah. It was just an idea. It doesn’t have to be exactly that.”

“Ok. Let’s rent some videos tonight and go out somewhere tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Calvin agrees.

The phone rings, and with Kelly’s hands covered with salad dressing, Calvin gets it. “Hello,” he says.

“Calvin Webber?” the man’s voice asks.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Webber, I’m calling on behalf of Megaxpress bank. Are you aware that your account was 90 days past due?”

“No. No, not at all.”

“Your account has just been cancelled.”

“What?”

“The entire balance is currently due, $3,100.”

“That’s impossible, I pay all my bills.”

“Well, Mr. Webber, I have the record from Megaxpress right here. They’ve cancelled your account.”

“Wait, you don’t work for Megaxpress?”

“No. I’m from Talon collections.”

“Oh. I thought you were from Megaxpress, I’ll just call them and straighten it all out. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

“They won’t talk to you.”

“Of course they will. I’ve been a customer for ten years.”

“Is there some way you can pay the balance off now?”

“$3,100?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have that much just sitting around.”

“Sir, your credit’s still good. If you can pay us tonight it can stay that way, otherwise we’ll have to report it to the agencies and your credit will be ruined.”

“Well, can I set up some sort of payment plan?”

“Can you pay half now?”

“No. That’s way too much. The best I could do would be like $200 a month.”

The man laughs at Calvin and says, “That won’t work for us.”

“Listen, says Calvin, “I’m just going to call Megaxpress.”

“They won’t talk to you.”

“I think they will.”

“Well, sir, I know my client. If you don’t straighten this out with me tonight, I’m going to report it to the credit agencies first thing tomorrow.”

“You expect me to come up with $3,100 tonight?”

“Yes.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe you could get a loan or borrow it from a family member.”

“No way.”

“Well sir, we have all the information right here for a law suit. I see you own your own house.”

“Don’t threaten me.”

“I’m just doing my job, sir.”

Calvin voice shakes, “I guess you enjoy your work, don’t you?”

“Can you pay half tonight and we can go from there.”

“I can’t.”

“That’s too bad, sir.”

“You heartless son of a bitch-” click.

Kelly has been listening intently from across the kitchen table, “What is it?”

“A collection agency. They said our Megaxpress account’s been cancelled.”

“Didn’t you pay the bill?” she asks.

“I think so. I’m going to call them and see if I can straighten it out.” Calvin gets out his credit card and calls the number on the back. After five voicemail menus, he finally reaches a customer service representative by pretending to have a rotary phone. “I think there’s a problem with my bill,” he says.

The clerk asks Calvin to confirm his address which he does, then the clerk says, “We have 1215 Pine St. not 1225, sir.”

“How can that be, I’ve lived here for over three years.”

“I don’t know, sir, but I’ll correct it for you now. Also, could you update your phone number. We don’t have one listed for you.”

“Sure. Thank you.” Calvin gives him the information then says, “I guess I haven’t been receiving my bills since the address was wrong, can you check to see what I have to pay to bring it up to date.”

“Certainly, Sir. Oh, this account’s been cancelled. I’ll give you the number for Talon collections. They’re handling the account now.”

“Can’t I pay you three months payments. I’m sorry I haven’t been paying, but you can see I wasn’t getting the bills.”

“Sir, you have to pay whether you get a bill or not.”

“I understand that. I know it’s my responsibility, but I pay like 20 different bills a month. If they don’t get sent, they won’t get paid.”

“I’m sorry sir. I’m going to give you the number to Talon now.”

“But it was your mistake. Why would you change my address after three years of sending the bills to the right place.”

“Here’s the number, sir.”

“Never mind,” says Calvin, “I don’t need it,” and he hangs up.

“Well?” asks Kelly.

“They won’t talk to me. They don’t care. We weren’t getting our bill for a couple months and they just cancelled the account.”

“After ten years of paying on time?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“And they won’t reconsider?” she asks.

“No. They passed it off to a collection agency so they don’t have to deal with their customers, makes it pretty convenient for them.”

“What are we going to do now?”
“I guess we should pay as much as possible, maybe $500, but it might be too late for our credit rating.”

She says, “It’s a good thing we already have the mortgage.”

“Yeah,” agrees Calvin.

They eat their dinner quietly, subdued, then go to the store to get some videos. On Saturday they have a nice picnic, then on Sunday, they watch Jack’s soccer game, having put the Megaxpress problem blissfully behind.

As they relax, they are unaware that certain items of their personal information are bouncing around from computer to computer. The debt collector who Calvin had annoyed by slightly disrespecting him has sold Calvin’s social security number, his address, mother’s maiden name, phone number and credit card numbers to a certain person, the former Zach Billup, who is now also known as Calvin Webber. By Monday, the new Calvin Webber has a driver’s license and social security card to prove his identity. Soon, he will also have five credit cards belonging to his new self, and soon after that, they will all be maxed out.

In less than a month, the old original Calvin Webber begins receiving notices indicating that his credit cards are all over their credit limits. Various fees are charged and several of the companies, seeing the notation of the Megaxpress account cancellation, decide that now would be a good time to cancel their account with Calvin too. They demand payment in full, thinking perhaps that someone who has a hard time paying a $100 a month will easily be able to come up with $5,000 in a day.

Calvin suddenly faces a demand for $30,000, payable immediately, since it is the card issuer’s right to cancel the account at any time. He has $8,000 equity in his house, $400 in a checking account and a dazed expression on his face as he sits in a lawyer’s office who specializes in bankruptcy. Calvin’s head and stomach join forces and threaten to revolt from the rest of his body when the lawyer tells him that bankruptcy will follow him for at least 10 years, but that he should be able to save his house. Calvin only mumbles in response, “Why did they change my address? I didn’t tell them to do that.”

“What?” asks the lawyer, but Calvin doesn’t answer.

Meanwhile, the second Calvin robs a convenience store downtown. As he exits the store, he turns to threaten the cashier, and in the process, drops his wallet containing, of course, his new driver’s license and social security card. It happens that the picture on the license looks a lot like the old original Calvin, as both are about the same height, build, hair color and race.

At home that evening at the dinner table, Calvin and Kelly eat in silence, having just filed for bankruptcy. Jack is staying over at a friend’s house, which he has been doing a lot of during the past few weeks.

The doorbell rings. Calvin answers it. Two police officers are standing outside,

“Calvin Webber?” they ask.

“Yes?” he replies.

“You are under arrest for armed robbery. You have the right to remain silent-