I’m sitting on the bed in my fiance’s flat in San Francisco. I just got off work. He’s out at some metal show (gag) with a close friend of his who needed some good dude-time.

While my precious man is out being a decent human being/amazing friend (his friends have floored me with both their mental genius & goodhearted natures, which says so much about the person I’m marrying), I’m here with my feet tucked into the covers that are messed up from crawling out of bed too early in the morning in order to make it out the door before the commute becomes ridiculous. Stan Getz is on shuffle. I’m eating the wild salmon and braised kale I made for dinner. I’m also drinking Found Objects Malbec from Trader Joe’s, because it’s cheap and decent. I get their Carmenere sometimes for the same reason.

I figure I ran like five miles in Golden Gate Park yesterday, and I’m on the rag, and totally exhausted because: change, so I should totally drink a bunch of wine while listening to the sax in my underwear, and I should also definitely eat way too much dark chocolate. I picked up a couple of bars from TJ’s when I got off work—the dark kind with almonds in them. And as Mick was walking out the door to see his friend, he tossed this other dark chocolate bar at me. I had totally forgotten we had it.

Vosges Haut Chocolate makes “Mo’s Dark Bar.” And this is what the front of the box says: 62% dark chocolate with Hickory-smoked uncured bacon & Alderwood-smoked salt. Mmmhmmm.

Because we’ve been commuting between San Francisco and Chico for no other good reason except to lie in each other’s arms, we’ve had to make the best of it by finding little comforts along the way. Places like Velo Rouge in San Francisco, and Naked Lounge in Chico have offered sanctuary.

Once, while following Mick back to the city from Chico, we stopped at Granzella’s (mostly because I had to pee), where we found Mo’s Dark Bar with all the bacon and such, and I paid a bajillion dollars for it because it’s Mick’s favorite. I ate a piece of it today and…ERMEGHERD MEHR’S DERK BEHR!

It’s stupid. Fucking. Good. And I don’t even like bacon in sweet stuff because it’s over-played. But, seriously.

Sometimes you think you know what you want, then you find something better. That’s when you should just sink back, know you were wrong, and know there are things inside and outside yourself that, sometimes, if you’re really lucky, come together when you least expect it. Then, being wrong becomes oh-so right, and you can let yourself go despite your best efforts. You enjoy; indulge; fall in love. Because you can. Because you make the rules. Because it’s your prerogative to do so. And because as long as wine and chocolate and bacon and good salt exist, and you can have all those things while sitting in your underwear, then life will be good.

Stupid. Good.

Jen Cartier misses Chico! However, she has taken to the great beyond (er...The Bay Area) to be some kind of chocolate maven while simultaneously figuring out how the hell to navigate her long-ass work commute, and still kick ass at raising three munchkins, loving one soon-to-be husband, and keeping one rascally Brittany Spaniel in the damned yard. She loves Nutella, red wine, and American Spirits. She takes her dog along on runs to wear him out (sometimes he shits in someone else's yard - bonus!) and also to balance her own general consumption of all the fine tasty things life offers, ciggys included. Follow her blog at riceflourmemoirs.com