Sunday rehearsal became dinner and then somehow became rehearsal again. We still remember most of the songs.

Riley found an old voice memo, Evan found the chords, and now we have a song none of us remember writing.
She said yes. ❤️ I can't wait to see what the future has in store for us. Whatever comes next, I'm glad I get to do it with her. Merry Christmas, everyone.

First remote rehearsal went great if the goal was to hear five different versions of the same song at five different times.
Meal prep is leftovers with ambition.
Bought vegetables on purpose. Cooked them before they became refrigerator evidence. This is apparently what victory looks like now.
Physical therapy update: I can lift my arm higher, it hurts less afterward, and nobody has used the phrase “surprisingly decent” this week.
Physical therapy is mostly somebody watching you do a simple thing wrong with impressive consistency.
Sleeping in your own bed is underrated. I assume. I’ll let you know when it happens.
Everything is easier if you answer “fine” before anybody finishes asking.
I keep waiting for rest to catch up with me. Starting to think it took a different flight.
There are two kinds of people on tour: people who know where their charger is and people asking Riley.
County jail review: no stars. Terrible coffee. Evan looked exactly as disappointed as expected.
The good news is we have a spare tire.
No posts match this view.
“Most” is generous.
I remembered every drum part I played correctly.
That sentence has an escape hatch built into it.