So are you spraying cranberry juice?

April 25, 2008

I play kickball on Thursday nights because it’s what you do when you miss organized sports from your younger days and when you need to find some people with whom to drink.  We didn’t play last night but our team reffed, which entailed me sitting on the first base line eating an apple and handing it to Mia whenever she wanted a bite.  Afterward, as we picked up the bases, I noticed some women walking around with big spray bottles.  Walking around, spraying the grass.  I turned to Mia and said, “Are these park service workers?  Because they’re working awfully late.”  And then I heard some guy blowing a Ricola horn the next block over.  Mid-block, I ran back to the first few women I saw and said, “Hey!  Can I just ask what you’re doing?”

“Sure,” one of them smiled.  ”We’re cleansing the Earth and releasing a blessing.”

“…Okay!” I said.

“There’s going to be a big concert here on Saturday just to praise the Lord, and you’re invited!”

“…Okay!  Thanks!”  Had I not already had a few beers, I would have been making completely different faces from the one I was making.  I ran back to my group.

“Yeah,” I said to no one in particular, “I knew the park service didn’t work this late.”

Whatever floats your boat, right?


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