Saturday started with a lovely visit from M. and J. and a steady amble down the hill to Mount Vernon to check out the preparations for Baltimore’s Pride parade before walking back north for brunch and to swap out the walking for the bike. The Surly and I flew down the hill, the warm air riding the surface of the skin on a day full of loveliness and love in the streets. I locked up the bike just east of the crowds and headed in for a day of people watching and parade peeping on my tippy toes, and so much dancing, with C. and P., with some time outs for that old festival favorite: Can I find you in the crowd? Text me! I didn’t find R. or S., but found N., and we danced and dined and split and met back up and walked back to the neighborhood after it was all over, me pushing the bike instead of riding. She asked me if I push the bike often. Often enough, I said, and sometimes it’s nice to get off and walk with somebody else. Regardless, I feel more comfortable having me two wheels with me, and I was happy to get the coast down the hill in on this perfect day. It was a most lovely start to a most lovely birthday weekend that combined the usual bicycling with a goodly amount of dancing, walking, and dance-walking. Anything but a car, I say.