The weather's been pretty sweet. I mean, cool (under 70 most days) and dry (probably too dry).
Today it's raining, which is excellent.
Yesterday I, with help from a friend, moved a bunch of gravel from just beyond my porch into the driveway, so I can have a little piece of earth to wiggle my toes in (on?). Today I bought some grass seed (mostly rye and clover) and spread it over the patch of earth, and then occasionally went out and watched, with great pleasure, the rain soak down on the grass seed. Soon there'll be green shoots sprouting and my toes are wiggling in anticipation.
Earlier today I spent a couple hours mapping my family and childhood homes, schools and places of birth in Philadelphia. I called my Dad to get specifics on addresses. I was only off by one number on the house I spent my first 8 years in (11764 Brandon Rd). I thought it was 11762. My dad said that would have been the Taylor's house...which I would not want, because they had this german shepard named Major who snarled ferociously if anyone got near their front door, which was right next to ours.
I also found out, by asking the name and address of the hospital I was born in, that my older brother and I (we have the same parents), and my three younger half-siblings (same dad, different mom) were all born in the same hospital (Albert Einstein) and delivered by the same doctor. The doctor delivered my older brother in 1964 and my younger half-brother in 1984. Apparently he, the doctor, was the youngest partner in the family practice he belonged to. Go figure.
I think of Philadelphia as a large city (it is), but relationship-wise it feels like a small town. All five of us siblings being delivered by the same doctor feels so small town-ish. But maybe it's not as unusual as I think?
Don't know, but it's one of the many questions I ask myself as I pour over the map of my home town (which is really a big city).