of plans and pollutions

On Monday night the R-Braves killed the Charlotte Knights to my family’s delight, but we didn’t catch any foul balls.  Last night Dan and I biked to Ipanema for dinner right after work and then to Lowe’s to get a light bulb and to our respective houses to take care of household stuff.  It was supposed to be a “just hang out together and relax” night, but of course we ended up TCB because we’re so busy always that any down time we schedule for ourselves gets devoured.  Finally we got onto the back porch with a bottle of wine but spent the next couple of hours planning out Dan’s parents’ visit.  They will be here June 30 and I’m so incredibly excited to meet them.

How do you roll Richmond into a two-week nutshell?  I’ll be working most of the time, so it’ll be hard for me to lead informative, entertaining, historically-based tours from my cubicle.  We’ve got every instant of our non-work hours planned out tentatively with all the Richmond classics, so I’m hoping that they’ll get an accurate feel of the city while they’re here.  But who am I kidding?  This place speaks for itself.  They will catch the Richmond curse and be compelled to never really leave, like so many others.

Last night was capped off by a late-night visit to Mamma Zu (since I’d only had salad around 5:30pm) for broccoletti and tiramisu, and then sitting on the front porch with Jett and Lauren.

This week I finally finished revamping all the outdoor lighting.  So now there are little white lights strung along the backyard, a light string with origami shades on the front porch, a magenta light string at the side door, and a simple chinese lantern by the back door.  Everything is hooked up directly to a light fixture with one of those nifty adapters, so each is turned on by the flick of a switch or the pull of a chain.  Finally, my contributions to the light pollution problem are greatly lessened.  Which of course serves my aesthetic tastes just as much as my post-adolescent idealistic phase.

Off to work work work work work work work in the harsh, soul-crushing light of the cubicle farm.

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