August 11, 2008
Sunday bananas are the saddest bananas
When I got back to Alexandria, I walked down to the Giant to pick up some bananas. Poor timing. Apparently a pee-wee football team goes in on Sunday afternoons and drop kicks the bananas all over the store. At least that's what springs to mind when one sees such a beaten up, bruised collection of fruit. I managed to find a tiny bunch of bananas which were green enough to have withstood the ravages of the Junior Titans.
The next day, I was back in the Giant and discovered the truth behind the battered bananas. It's not pee-wee football, it's the produce guy! There he was, slamming the bananas into place on their stepped display table. Ouch. He'd moved the bruised ones all down to the lowest level, presumably because it's easiest to brush them into a trash can from there, and was unloading boxes of new green ones onto the upper level.
So I've learned my lesson. Monday bananas. Never Sunday bananas.
Oz has joined the collective
Behold, he hath drunketh of the cider and joined the ranks of the Apple-heads.
Yah. We have iPhones now. Or rather, he has his iPhone and my iPhone down in Richmond. I am up in Alexandria and having to wait till the weekend to play with my iPhone, by which time he'll have rubbed all the new off his and be so over it. He ordered them a week ago and proceeded to spending his evenings staring into the black hole of the App store. I was a little concerned that he'd be totally over the iPhone before he even got it.
This weekend we'll be getting iPhone diaper bags, or whatever it is they need. Itty bitty car seats? Play pens?
I have been taking pictures
Monte Alban and his silvery whiskers
On my windowsill
Delicate clouds and demolition
At the end of Monroe Avenue in Del Ray
Trash by twilight
On North 28th in Church Hill
I am still employed
Still seems strange to me. It'll be a whole year next month.