rsc

Standing at the bus stop outisde the Denver Zoo, waiting for the bus to take us back into downtown, my phone rings. The number doesn't look familiar

It turns out to be the arborist who sprayed our hemlocks for woolly adelgids last month. (I had given him my cell number when I called originally because I didn't know whether I'd be in Cambridge or Gloucester (or neither) when he called back.) Seems he had lost or never recorded my last name, and was (finally) about to send us a bill. (He also had neglected to get the name and address of our next-door neighbor, whose trees he sprayed at the same time. I wonder just how businesslike his business is.)

It just seemed like a strange call to get while waiting for a bus in suburban Denver, but maybe I'm just an old fogey.

The zoo was OK -- nice habitats, some cute primates, and a really nice "Lorikeet Adventure" aviary. A fair number of creatures seemed to be invisible or missing -- and, of course, in the middle of a fairly warm sunny day a lot of them were curled up asleep in the corner of their enclosures.

Now we're resting up for the Rockies-Sox game, starting an hour and a half from now.