Today I turned 34 and I’m celebrating appropriately with La Fin Du Monde at 1pm.

Thirty-three was a tumultuous year for me, but a good one nonetheless. From living with my girl and cat in sweltering LA heat with a corporate job and driving more than biking — to living solo with no cat or plants or girl or job through a vicious Chicago winter onto a bike-filled, car-free spring and summer. It’s been an interesting series of changes, and a quiet tail end to my third-of-a-century human existence.