1. Eric and I are meeting with a wedding planner on Friday. In case you haven’t figured it out Eric is the infamous Winemonkey. Why did I drop the nickname? I blog from my iPhone and “Eric” is much easier to type than “winemonkey”.

2. I have to make the chair covers tonight. It is such a desperate event that I skipped the gym to do it.

3. I have really been trying to get to the gym much more regularly. And I feel good about it.

4. I miss my family. And by family, I mean both friends and family.

That’s it.

This week I took mine and Eric’s bikes in for repairs. They estimated about $20 worth of repairs for Eric’s bike and $150 worth of repairs to my bike. Eric bought his bike off of Craigslist. My bike was a gift from my grandpap. My deceased grandpap.

Let me give you a little more detail. When I decided to go to grad school in Davis, I knew I would need a bike. One day, I went to visit my grandparents and my grandpap had this bike for me. It had cost him $8 at a garage sale but he had gone to the garage sale and picked it out. It might very well be the only object that my grandpap EVER picked out and bought for me by himself.

I had the bike repaired for about $75. And I rode that bike for years. Eight miles a day. And then I didn’t use bikes anymore. I had borrowed my sister’s new bike and got hit by a car. I bought my scooter.

Years past. I moved ten times. And everywhere I went, that bike went with me.

But when the shop told me that it was going to cost $150 to repair, I started thinking: This $8 bike will have cost me over $200. It just didn’t seem right. I started thinking about all of the clutter in my life. And that is when Eric planted the seed.

He said,”Why don’t you see if the bike shop will donate it to charity for you.”

I took some pictures. I kept the seat. And the bike is no longer part of my life. I don’t know that I made the right decision. But it has been made.

(Don’t worry pap. I still have your old work shirt and a crazy western shirt. I still have fond memories of you. Just no physical bike.)

You can tell when there has been a particularly good Thursday night in Sacramento by counting the number of vomit piles on the sidewalk.

By all estimations, last night must have been a VERY good night because within a two block radius I passed no less than 3 piles.

Did I mention I want to live in the country?

But apparently not cold enough. Because when I opened the door, I unleashed the intangible horrors of the breath of death itself onto my household and myself.

Once I regained consciousness, I decided it was time to empty out a week’s worth of cooking into my last garbage bag and send it packing to the scavengers of my community dumpster. That was a long sentence.

With that, I will let the noxious fumes lull me into a slumber.

Girl’s Voice: Do you spell “use” “u s”?
Dad: U S E
Girl’s voice: Oh.

I turn around, expecting to see a small little girl. Instead, I see a teenager, text messaging on her phone. This is wrong on so many levels.

My heart rate