Weekend, or week, just starting?

Sometimes you luck out trying a new restaurant in a different city (Fava bean spread and blueberry black pepper jam on toast? Yes, more, please).

And other times you arrive seven years late to the nicest ice cream joint in the hip neighborhood and score an excellent cone of salted Oreo.

And then there are those nights when the sound of an amazing band draws you in from the street to a tiny brewery and the band and the brewery owners are all the friendliest people you've met in ages and you go home with two new CDs and plans to return for more music soon.

And once in a while you roller skate with a monkey on your leg for a few hours with Tarzans and Janes.

And occasionally you do all these things on a single Friday night and then wake up the next morning having decided to race one more hill climb in Winter Park, straight off the couch, getting your butt kicked and finishing second to DFL, but still smiling (and breathing).

Roll on!