Because we were feeling surprisingly social, and also because there is nothing on TV in the summer, Blake and I went to our neighborhood ice cream social in the park last night.
And so Blake enjoyed the last bowl of cookies n'cream and I enjoyed the first plate of cookies n'cream while we discussed the welcome wagon, the necessity of speed bumps (especially after what happened to Noah on Monday) and various items of Neighborhood Theater with Tim, the resident neighborhood guru and keeper of the listserv.
And we looked at all the pretty horses (that's a really good book, by the way) that the cops were riding and watched their tails swat away at the flies and curious little kids.
That's right. We live in 1954.