It’s a well known fact, internet, that I do not like to miss a good time. Ever. And by good time, I mean meal. Despite a…sinus infection? Head cold? Allergies? The croup? Pneumonia? The consumption? Whatever. Despite something mysteriously hideous lingering in my noggin for the last 67497392 days that I cannot shake, I sure managed to eat a lot of cheese and spend some time with good pals this weekend. It’s a gorgeous January here--sunny and beautiful days, mild and cooler nights—and I like to take every opportunity to break bread al fresco, if you know what I mean.
|Mini-pals: fondid double dip.|
Anyhow, Friday kicked off with a backyard noshfest: Cocktails and bubbles and salami and cheeses and marinated garlic cloves (KISS ME, INTERNET!) and goat cheese pesto sundried tomato dips and hummuses (hummi?) and fig jam and a cracker extravaganza as far as the eye could see. Heaven! On a plate! We didn’t even barbeque the chicken as planned because the nibbles hit the sweet spot just so. And then I almost set everyone on fire with my chocolate fondue. (Sterno flames! Everywhere! Fun for the whole family!) My salted caramel fondue stayed warm and dippy but the chocolate one was 14 seconds away from getting snuffed out by the fire extinguisher. This didn’t appear to stop the pile of rug rats from double dipping (DIRTY!) strawberries and brownie bites and pretzel rods and chocolate chip biscotti, but I’m pretty sure all of their arm hair is singed off. Look at me with the delightful party tricks for kids and adults alike!
And then Saturday’s “one quick glass of wine at sunset on the patio at Bono’s!” morphed in to 4 bottles, tuna towers, filet, farfalle, Maytag blue cheese, bacon, asparagus and the most perfect iceberg wedge you ever did see. Those are my favorite nights…the ones that start out one way and get Pied Pipered somewhere else all together. We ended the night with Port, dark chocolate and solving all of the world’s problems by firelight while being pinned down and love-mauled by a huge, sweet-faced pooch**.
What happened after gives me slight cause for concern, however. In trying to kick this bug and not wake myself up hacking and coughing every single hour of the night, I have been culling numerous and sundry cure-alls. This night’s strategy was Tylenol PM with a cough syrup chaser. Smart, right?*** I think the combination of the pretty wine and the delicious food and my knock-out concoction equaled dreams of Kafka proportions. In one, my house was on fire (Fire: the reoccurring theme of my weekend!) and Dream Me was moseying around WITH THE ROOM ABLAZE gathering extra panties(?), my phone charger(??), my college diploma(???) and then—here’s a good one!—instead of just grabbing my special jewelry box and getting the eff out of dodge, Dream Me stopped to untangle my necklace and cross from everything else. Like for a thousand years in this dream, the flames licking up the walls around me, I stood there fighting off dream-smoke inhalation and kept trying to untangle this heirloom from whatever it dream-tangled itself up in. I was practically whistling while I dream-worked. No hurry! Way to have an emergency exit strategy!
Obviously, Dream Me is kind of stupid and has zero survival skills. Swell!
*She also shares her husband with me. I basically get the perks of a sister-wife without the, uh, conjugal responsibility. Works for me!
**You guys remember Sophie the cookie eater, right? Not poisoned! Hurray!