Sunday

Sunday

Location: Somewhere along highway 84 in Idaho, at a godless boring stretch of highway. Rick is driving and I am writing. After all of Strayer’s studies the last thing one would want to hear is that I am bloging while driving.

Last night all the people on our street, as well as some had a block party. Nick managed to get a permit to close off the street in front of our house. For thirty dollars one can go on-line and request a permit to own the street for a social event. Grant it they first consider where you live and the affects it might cause on traffic. I suppose closing down a major artery like 700 east would never fly with the police. But on our small little street it was no problem, so with barricades set at either end they put out tables with linen cloths and candles. It could have easily been some outdoor café in Europe. Three grills were brought out and bratwurst was served and a small table off to the side had all the libations to go with the pot luck dinner dishes that were collecting on the tables.

It was a good event and a chance to get to know some of the neighbors I would have normally never met. The wine flowed past the permits curfew time, but nobody seemed to matter. At midnight people were still sitting around the tables in the middle of the street. I retired at 11:30 since I had to get up early for the drive to Bend. The rest of the crowd hung around until the wee hours of the morning. I heard from Nick that they didn’t make it into bed until 5:30 in the morning. It was a good thing we didn’t live on a major commuting route. I thing one would have been a little perplexed meeting up with a table full of dinner guests on road to the morning commute.

Richard Boyer