I know many of you probably don’t feel the tragedy of Saturday morning’s post. Something like 80 percent of Michigan’s tree-fruit crop was KO’d by the two weeks of summer we had in March, and when it means you’re deprived of cherries and peaches a few months later, well, that hurts.
Nevertheless, I made m’self a pie. And none other than Hank Stuever and his partner Michael were here to help us eat it. What a weekend. It was well-spent.
Hank and Michael are en route up north, and wanted to see the infamous city along the way, so we entertained them, cobbling together a two-day schedule that included a sail, dinner, a drive out Woodward and through some of the worst blight in the city (Robinwood Street), then into Palmer Woods, across Eight Mile and all the way up to Cranbrook, where we beheld where the Demon Barber of Bloomfield Hills performed his most famous haircut.
And then, because it’s required of all out-of-town visitors, we went to Slow’s. The meal was, conservatively, two million calories. I may not eat again for a week.
The weekend was capped by fireworks. So you could say it was a good one.
And because I spent so much time away from the keys, I don’t have a great deal of bloggage. This is sort of grimly amusing: Home prices in the city of Detroit are now below $10,000. So what can you get at what price? Some jaw-dropping bargains.
One weekend with you: Republicanpalooza in Utah over the weekend.
Do you know how rare a true tie is in track and field? Too close to call.
The week awaits. Summer in the city.