This past weekend was notable in a couple of ways. Ellie came to visit and we got out and did some things we had wanted to do for a while. Since the weather was near perfect, we decided to take advantage of it so we could cross a bit off our list.
Saturday morning, we moseyed down to the farmer’s market. While we couldn’t find much that we felt we needed or that we couldn’t get elsewhere for cheaper, it was still eventful. Eventful partly because there were a good handful of free samples. Eventful because I got attacked by a bird. It was the worst kind of bird in the world, and the most likely to do such a thing. The satanic red-winged blackbird.
I’ve been harassed by one before too, they must be out to get me. The first time I was running on a country road during a high school summer, trying to stay in shape during the off-season. I had in my headphones and was listening to tunes on my first ever MP3 player. Since I had the same 20 songs on it all the time, the most it could hold, I knew every song intimately from my long runs. So when I heard the repeated chirping over the music, I knew something was up. I looked up and there was a red-winged blackbird hovering over me as I ran, chirping. Threatening. I sprinted the next half-mile to get away.
This time around, Ellie and I were just walking from the far end of the farmer’s market back towards where we came in. The farmer’s market runs along the river in town and I avoid walking there most of the time because it’s infested with Satan’s spawn. I figured that it can’t be a problem with so many people around during the market. I was wrong. As we passed under a tree, I heard a squawk and then felt the attack on my head. I ducked and dove and it was over in a matter of seconds, but it was still traumatizing. I survived. Barely.
Later that day, we grabbed lunch at the local drive-up root-beer stand. The food was mediocre but the root-beer was great. It wasn’t syrupy or overly sweet or overly root-beer flavored. It was, more or less, just right and refreshing.
In the early afternoon, I got my Nighthawk running for the season. I had ridden it up from my parents’ house a couple of weeks back, but the battery was dead and wouldn’t charge–even after an hour-long ride. I had to pull the battery and put in a new one. I think leaving the battery in the bike during the extra cold winter was what killed it.
When I went to get a new battery, I brought the old one with me so I could get the core fee taken off the new one. Walmart had the best price on the battery I needed. I walked in with the battery, went to the service desk, set down the battery and said, “I would like to return this for the core charge.” I was then told I needed a receipt to get the money back. Flabbergasted, I told them in all my years of replacing batteries, that has never been the case. They tried convincing that it’s always been Walmart’s policy. Bull, I called.
Eventually, I managed to explain to them that I wasn’t just returning a battery and I wanted to get a new one–something they didn’t bother to ask before telling me I couldn’t return the battery without a receipt. Once they realized that I was dropping the old off so I could buy the new, they changed their tune. Rightly so.
After all that, the Nighthawk is running for the season.
We mini-golfed that evening. I’m the worst at mini-golf, always have been. So it was no surprise when Ellie beat me. It wasn’t my favorite moment when she snapped her friends the scorecard, but at least my hole-in-one on the ninth hole was there!
Sunday, Ellie and I went to the Great Lakes Distillery to use up some free tickets I had for their “tour”. I had done the tour once before and knew it was worth paying for so we should definitely take advantage of free tickets. We invited my brother and sister-in-law along and we had a good time learning about booze making in Wisconsin and sampling six of their liquors. Was fun, and a bit tipsy.
After the distillery, we headed a few blocks over to Sobelman’s for a Bloody Mary. It was pretty damn tasty, even without all the food piled on top.
All-in-all, it was a really good and eventful weekend, in the right kind of ways.