I'm not sure I know you, but I think I do.

The streetlight at the end of the street has been out, was out, for two days. I wasn't sure how to handle it, if I could. Traffic over the bridge would stall all the way to the other side. The first time I was stuck in it, the second time I pushed that little baby blinker down and inched to the other lane, driving down the freeway, out and around again.

I've somehow found a way to make my weekends quite packed, when really, sometimes, maybe, I want to spend it home, figuring stuff out, trying to make sense of it all.

I like coming home to Mr. Matt, he puts up with my shenanigans. My goofiness. I'm pretty damn goofy, I don't know how that happened, maybe I always was.

I've decided to take the bus to the wine tasting tonight. Matt's going to meet up with his OSU clan in Hollywood beforehand and we're going to meet there. It's a silly wine tasting really. Looking forward to it.

Looking forward. Best. Sincerely. Cheers. Take care. The things we say to get through the day.

Buses are funny in LA. You never know who you're going to be sitting next to.

I hope that doesn't jinx me tonight.

Generally though, I miss public transportation and actually prefer it. I loved riding the T and the subway in Boston and New York. I love walking -- it makes me feel strong. And like I'm going on an adventure whenever I step out the door. I'm connected.

What I'm writing now, this is just filler.

I can't stop eating pumpkin pie! It's in the fridge now. Matt made it from scratch from these real pumpkins that he gutted.

Crazy pumpkin killer. That's what he is.