It's Friday and the first warm sunny spring day of the year. The bikes and motorcycles are out in force bearing alacritous workers to work. I wanted to ride to work today, to strap on the backpack and glide across town in the comforting morning sun. Or a motorcycle! Many men in their Carhartts riding chrome and heat. Theirs is a faith I covet, but I can't justify owning a motorcycle when I have a car and a bike (two, soon). I think maybe the next time I merge households with someone, I'll be able to ditch the car for a motorcycle.

In any case, no riding today because I have to drive way out of the way to one of my other jobs later. We'll ride 30 miles tomorrow and 30 more on Sunday. That should be enough—it'll be too much if the weather doesn't hold.

For now, just driving in on Prodigy turned high. I need new music; where is the new good music?

I love working in Fremont.

I love eating at Yak's. I never ate there the whole time I lived in the area. While the little neon humbow in the window has always been hard to resist, I did avoid it because of the meat. But now I know they have tofu dishes.

I got lunch at Yak's! Not a humbow today, though, but asparagus stir-fry, short on the asparagus. That place is so happy-making! I love diner-grade asian food, you know? The uber-atmospheric anti-atmosphere that makes you feel right at home. All the other non-hipster workers are there getting lunch, too. And the food's cheap!

And I love a reason to go to Pontevecchio, even if the opera singers don't sing during the lunch hours.

And then yesterday I bought lunch from Pontevechhio's walk-up window. Pontevechhio is this super-small, family-run, totally romantic Italian restaurant where I'd like to dine with you. But, you're not here and their creamy dishes beckoned from the window. So, yesterday I bought the $5 Italian lunch and got this awesome portobello ravioli. Guess what came with the lunch for no extra cost? A Coke! Now, that's my kind of walk-up romantic Italian food.

Feedback from the managing editor about my work: I nailed the assignment that kicked my ass for two days. Now she says I'm OK to proceed—that is, publish without edit.

I crossed the street in the afternoon sunshine to put a little distance between me and the latest assignment. Burnt Sugar and Bitters are over there and I stopped in at both. Burnt Sugar, an overpriced specialty boutique commodifying the unique and foreign-exotic. Saw the accessories the indie girls buy, those corporate-owned indie girls. I don't buy it.

And I have to say, I don't like this fashion of wearing those small square- or cat eye-shaped glasses that slip down the nose so that the wearer literally has look down her nose at you. One of my friends wears such a pair. My question is, why doesn't she push them back up? Is she afraid of looking like a nerd? Instead she looks like she—all of them—look like they're wearing bifocals.

I walked by the vintage clothing store in which Yvonne and I were browsing when the bus fell off the Aurora bridge. I remember that it sounded like someone dropping a bag of trash.

The second job went faster than it should have and so Friday-night-to-myself began earlier than planned. I went for a long run, longer than any run since last year, and it felt good. I mean, I hauled compared to how fast I usually go. But when I got home I collapsed in front of the TV and stretched for a long time before showering and eating. Too soon, sleepiness ended it.

A sign on the parking attendant's booth at The Mallory.