Tonight, when we were reluctantly slinking back home after lounging blissfully in Jane and Dobby’s air conditioning, we noticed that outside our house a block party was in session -- a block party we hadn't been invited to.

Lois, a sheepish neighbor, knocked on the door and explained they’d forgotten to “flyer” us, but asked if we would please come out and meet a few people. So, Shef in his pajamas, Dan in his Old Farte t-shirt, and I, inexplicably obsessed with checking my fly, moseyed out there to make nice.

This turned out to be an incredibly fruitful endeavor, as I learned that Soul Asylum began in our garage. Yes! Soul Asylum! They played here in their early days, like before Runaway Train and Winona Ryder.

In other news, my brother Devin has a blog. He’s going to write about his experiences of being a missionary in Peru. Don’t worry, I don’t think he’s going to be the psychotic kind of missionary who preaches about hellfire and eternal damnation, so you probably won’t be repulsed if you go check it out.