I can feel the splinter in my finger, but I can’t be bothered to get up, turn on the lights, and extract it. When the alarm goes off…

Awake. Check phone. 3:18. Didn’t I set the alarm for 3? No, 3:30. Up quietly. The Domestic Partner gets to sleep until 4 (two different vineyards are coming in today).

The ginormous splinter slides out easily. Rubbing alcohol doesn’t sting. This worries me. My finger still hurts.

Showered, dressed, kissed and into the Uber. LA looks different from the backseat at 4am. You notice the construction fences. You fly by the cleanup crews and the abandoned flares on the 405, the remnants of someone else’s accident.

Baggage checked.
Dog noted.

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Carbs loaded.
Flight boarded.

Zzzzzz.

Denver!
My connection is so far in the future that I don’t even have a gate assignment.

Five hour layover.
First Jamba Juice whatever it is they’re calling the Coldbuster now.
Southwest has great comfy chairs with built in plugs.

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Grapes are harvested in Santa Maria (Chardonnay) and Sta. Rita Hills (Pinot Noir).

I lose my QOM on the Friday ride.

I overhear a couple talking about how they got their dog a note so it would be a “therapy dog” and they can get out of the charge. I really hate it when people game the system like that – it makes things more difficult for people who have real problems.

Grand Rapids!

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Baggage claimed.
Cab snagged.
Heavens opened.
Bike reunited.

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RIP Giovanni Pinarello

Bike dropped off.
Pre-ride carboloading in full force:

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I had the Werewolf Lazer Circus and The Curmudgeon. I also had a couple beers by those names tonight.

Grand Rapids has Uber!

And nothing warms my heart like a boutique hotel in a small town. LOVING CityFlatsHotel

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And the agenda for tomorrow:

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