Okay, so it's been an exciting week.

In the first place, this weekend Monterey Peninsula was host to both a major bullet-bike race (hit play on your copy of Al Hirt doing his cover of "Flight of the Bumblebees"), and the Salinas Rodeo (pronounce Ro-day-o), which amounted to, for those of us who didn't attend either one, increased yet somehow enjoyable traffic, as hives of motorcycle enthusiasts, riding everything from the largest highway bike to the meanest 80cc, zipped up and down the freeway, through the town, and over the lovely canyon road that Sheri and I take to work. Though the bikers were out in droves, I didn't see an increase in the number of horsey enthusiasts, though that could be that they just blend in better with the local peeps.

What kept Sheri and I so busy that we chose not to patronize said events? That's right, installment seven of Everyone's Favorite Secret Crush, Mr. Harry Potter. We originally had planned to digest this final tome nice and slow, so as to savor the outcome of the crazy story, but two days in and we've already blown it. We're more than half way through, and Sheri has accidentally seen a couple of things at the end that I forbade her to tell me about. I've got some cute pictures of my preggers wife that I'll post soon.

Speaking of pregnancy and related events, one of my favorite morning past times has become putting my hand on Sheri's tummy before she wakes up and feeling little Sweet Pea play the drums against the port side of Sheri's uterus. She's got impeccable rhythm, I tell you. I can't wait to meet her. She's going to be one jazzy babe. I'm never going to sleep again.

Let's see...anything else? Oh, yeah. I got published! Ch-ch-check it out. And Sheri and I watched "The Odd Couple" over the weekend, which seems like it would be much funnier as a play. I think that Walter Matthau was born looking like an old geezer.

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