s-a-t-u-r-d-a-y night

X had an appointment to get her back unmangled out at Dr. Sam’s this morning. From what I heard last night there was also the possibility of combining our jaunt out west with a few other errands: picking up a floor lamp and getting some good quality composted horse manure. I know what you’re thinking and I only ask for your empathy. Departure time was set for 9:30am, which might not seem early to the olden folk but it’s early for me on a Saturday. Needless to say, the boys were on their own for breakfast as we rolled out for coffee, Armenian sweets, and a stop to purchase some industrial waste bags for hauling manure.

I’ll skip the chiropractor visit, in narrative form, because I sat in the parking lot reading a magazine while she got done. It’s nothing to really speak of. The good part was our weigh station stop to pick up 350lbs of horse manure. Even with my minimal knowledge of manure and compost I could recognize the quality in this massive pile of compost. What really tipped me off as I mounted and secured the compost was this: X kept saying how lovely and beautiful it was. I think she calls me lovely and beautiful. Think about that. Breathtaking. I all seemed clear enough to me as she gasped in ecstasy. The greater issue was my lack of manure attire. She tells me afterwards that she was a little suspicious of my outfit that included some new sandals and clothes not really fit for mounting the mountain. She claims to have thought that “he must know what he’s doing since I’ve told him we’re going to get some composted manure.” That phrase means little more to me than visiting a local nursery and hauling a bag of ‘compost’ out on my shoulder. I was mistaken. I blame myself. I would think that if I’m heading out to get compost in a Mercedes-Benz then I’m excused from thinking a real horse ranch is the destination. Funny enough, we stopped at a nursery on the way home to get some kit for her plant seeds that are on order. This was my kind of nicely bagged compost nursery. She eventually got some good advice on seedling survivability from an associate who come up with this response to whether or not normal enriched soil we be okay for seedlings: “If it were me, I’d use the soil labeled for seedlings.” This ran counter to the first guy who seemed less interested in types of soil and directions. We got the soil (labeled and in a bag) for seedlings and headed home.

Our block mates had a block party this afternoon on our 20-house, very quiet street. There were plenty of kids, salads, casseroles, drinks, and big BBQ equipment. We’ve got a very nice group that hang around our block.

After the three-game sweep debacle down in Tampa, I can now report that the Cubs win…again. The first two against the cross-town Sox are in the books as wins.

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