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"What constitutes a coke-whore?" Stephanie asked. "Do you have to offer favors for the drug?"

"No, I think you just have to do it a lot," I answered.

"I never see any of that action," David said, trying to involve himself in a subject he knows nothing about -- drugs.

"Baby," I cooed, "I sleep with you for food." He laughed at my crassness and changed the subject by sharing that as a show of support for his Catholic friends, he had chosen to give up dogsled racing for Lent. I was surprised he knew what Lent was. I was raised a Catholic and educated in such things, but David, a born-again atheist, was raised Lutheran.

Ollie disappeared into the kitchen and returned with an update: after feeding 12 people (Jim and Jen showed up as we were diving into dessert), three-quarters of the ham remained.

"We can feed Tijuana with it," Ollie offered.

David smiled and shook his head as a father might to a child who suggested we paint the sky purple. "They can have a taste," he said.

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