At my house we have what's been appropriately titled the "Wall of Food." The Wall of Food sits plumply and prominently on the armoire of our dining room, and is composed of magic markers stuck together, end to end. Just kidding, it's made of junk food. (I think I said magic markers because my sister is giving me a Mike Tyson-esque tattoo over my eye in black marker right now, and I'm beginning to have second thoughts.) Every time you pass the Wall of Food, which inevitably happens every 25 seconds since I sleep on the dining room table, it is a family rule that you must consume at least enough chocolate that would be necessary to sustain an Amish colony for two months. It was piquant for the first three days but now I just feel like I need to be detoxed. It doesn't help that my only exercise has been in my fingers, namely typing. My sinewy digits are firm and tenacious while the rest of my body is more of a jolly rice pudding consistency. I suspect my internal chocolate has morphed into some sort of viscous blood stream, perhaps shifting me from B+ to C+, 'B' for blood and 'C' for chocolate. Sort of like a reverse Michael Jackson look. Being home is splendid. Tonight I am going to my five year reunion. The reunion -of course- of my lifeguard certification group. We were a tight circle of friends! When you're saving lives together, you really get to know one's true colors.