Garrett M. Vonk

The story of how Heather shared the news of our pregnancy with me is the best kind of story: it begins with a sweaty gym bag, and ends with beer.

It was a Wednesday and I had agreed to meet Heather before going to the gym. I took the train from my office to hers and went to go change in the car. We carpool to work most days, and at the time, we were both going to kickboxing classes at the gym around the corner a few times a week. I took the train north from my office to hers (three stops on MARTA) and took the elevator in the parking deck up to the car. I sat down in the car to change into my gym clothes and grabbed my gym bag. As I pulled out my t-shirt, I noticed that something fell out of it. I reached back into the bag and retrieved the object: a pregnancy test. The readout: “Pregnant”. To be completely honest, I thought it might belong to someone else for about five seconds.

I quickly decided to skip the gym. I called Heather, still at her desk, and there was much rejoicing. We decided to go celebrate this new phase the best way we know how: beer and wings at Taco Mac. (OK, fine, the beer and wings were just for me.)

• I’m playing T2Tennis, Men’s Doubles, with a friend this fall. (Do not click that link; their web site is terrible.) We’ll see how it goes. Watch this space for injury updates and news of our record-breaking 0-6 season.
• I snagged tickets to the Weezer show the weekend after next. I saw them two years ago with the Foo Fighters, and they kicked ass. I don’t know if the $20 tickets I got will be any good, but it’s worth the drive to Gwinnett Arena just to find out. Apparently, they are still doing the audience participation thing, which could be interesting.
• I’ll be out of town, but don’t miss the Decatur Beer Festival this weekend. Oh, and also: it’s sold out.
• Blah, blah, election.
• Blah, blah, economy.