I spent all of Sunday out on my lawn cutting, screwing, pounding, and painting PVC and plywood creations.
I know. You're getting excited to find out what I'm working on, but you'll have to wait until Easter, when they are due.
Anyway, a neighbor invited us over for Cioppino, which they had apparently made too much of. This is cool because I always say 'hi' to all of my neighbors, and I try to make it feel welcoming (my biggest complaint about California). Annie and I were never really sure about the relationship status of the couple that invited us, so we were happy to be able to clear up a bunch of things. Plus, this would be good practice for making friends.
Ten brief minutes later, while I was wrapping things up, I heard an explosion at the house next door. It sounded like a propane cylinder exploded. (A sound I had heard once before when Granny lit the grill with the top shut, throwing her against the house and singeing her eyebrows.) I asked if everything was OK. A 30-something woman came stumbling out (seemingly drunk but claiming to just have woken up from a nap). She thanked me for caring and invited me over for steaks. Apparently, the sound I thought I heard was indeed the sound of someone inappropriately igniting a grill.
We chose Cioppino, and I was surprised to see that another person from my apartment building had been invited to dinner (with his girlfriend).
So, I got to know 1/2 of my apartment building, and I got invited to 2 dinners. There's hope for this place!
I should hang out in front of my apartment building more often,
P.S. Granny was fine.