I'm certain you'll all be relieved and overjoyed to hear that the bags of dirt saga has finally come to an end. While attending my nephew's baseball game out in the burbs, my dad not only lent us his truck, but said we could dump the dirt on the property of his church, which needed some leveling off anyway. It amuses me to think of how cliche American my weekend ended up: baseball, family, church, small towns, a pick-up truck. If only I'd listened to some country music.
Now that I think about it, there was even a gigantic Uncle Sam hat involved, but that's perhaps a story for another time.
Fortunately there was at least a touch of Europe, since after watching the World Cup, we got caught in a massive highway-blocking Italia victory party in South Philly. It was great to see how many serious fans there are in our neighborhood.
