Last night we went on a quest to find a bench for our front yard. We want one that will hold up to the elements, is comfortable, but isn’t a gazillion dollars. We didn’t see one in a handful of stores. While it’s true that home building supply stores have benches, we don’t want one of those metal and wooden slat models. I don’t really care for those and have never sat on one that made me want to stay seated. And, I don’t like spending money on something that I know I won’t use.
We were also looking for a couple of other items and that was a near bust too. I decided the other night, while struggling to get a piece of corn bread out of our small baking dish, that we needed a mini-spatula. We found one that had a smiling egg on it. I picked it up just to show the better-half how horrifying it was. We didn’t buy it and didn’t find another non-smiling spatula that fit the bill.
After being thwarted on nearly all the shopping fronts, we went to dinner at a familiar place in the Fan (excellent fried oysters last night). We ended up at a corner table off the bar with a good vantage point of the street. I watched a guy bounce a soccer ball off his head and then he practiced some fancy footwork. The weird thing was he was pretty dressed up for knocking a soccer ball around and he was standing on the sidewalk in front of his apartment. I guess he was getting primed for the World Cup?
The boys in the apartment above soccer boy were out on their balcony with a radio, a guitar and the most massive grill fire I’ve seen in awhile. There’s nothing like hanging out with a bunch of strangers in a bar watching the lucky break twenty-somethings get. There’s no reason why the apartment building didn’t catch on fire. The flames were a good 5 feet above the grill and shooting out 3-5 feet from the front of the grill. I can only imagine how much lighter fluid went on that grill.
While we were waiting for our food, a freak named David walked into the bar, struck up a conversation with a lone woman, who very gracefully exited the situation, and bought a beer. He paid for the beer and then a few seconds later asked again how much the beer was. By then the bartender had caught on that David was either very drunk or very high. I’m not exactly sure what happened next, but David left without drinking his beer and then did a little performance out front (some weird interpretive dance) and then stumbled out of sight.
Who says Richmond isn’t any fun?
