Craaack! The cold can of beer had been opened, a slight rise of foam bubbling from release, and the condensation dripping down the sides exposed the nature of the day - beautiful, golden, warm. The grizzled Carouser gently leaned forward from his battered lawn chair to flick a piece of errant grass cuttings from his flipflop-clad toes. The screechy whine of a red-shouldered hawk played counterpoint to the sleepy buzz of cicadas, effectively slowing down and already slothful morning. Without a turn of his head, the Carouser knew by a sharp click and audible whoop that someone's bocce ball had found its enemy. Rhythmic pinging of pennies dancing off the bases of chipped coffee cups told of a series of unsuccessful shots on goal - there would be much drinking in these players' spare time. Feeling an annoying swell of bladder and its impact on his otherwise perfect buzz, the Carouser creaked slowly to his feet and steered himself slowly across the lawn. Sweet mountain air ran through him, and his parched lips caused him to pick up his pace. Finding an open, towel-strewn bathroom inside one of the many condos nearby, he eased out his aged procreator and smiled at the thick stream he was still able to conjure. Yes, today is a good day, and the night would be even better. A quick shake of his teed-up Viking, a check of the teeth, and back to the great outdoors. It was time to throw the Frisbee.

The next morning was rough. My bedside glass of water was empty, and no amount of tossing and turning could alleviate the pounding in my head. The sun was streaming through the window and already music and laughter rose from downstairs. What time was it? Ugh, I opened my eyes. There on the nightstand was a Silver Bullet, the can perspiring and gleaming like the Rocky Mountain waters it came from, and an Advil. I didn't remember going to bed, but with this early morning gift I knew whatever happened my brothers were there looking out for me, then and now. I rose, Day 2 starting on cue.