My legs hurt. My arms and torso ache. I never excercise, ever. But on Sunday, Steffie, Caroline, and about 10 of our friends played a full-on game of rounders (see Caroline's post below). I pitched a British inning, which takes 9 outs and has no balls (kind of like some dates I've had). I hit a home run and even switched hit, and ran my ass off. So if you see me hobbling around like a newborn colt, this is why. And so much for healthy athletic stuff, after running the cones, everyone (and more), headed to my house for a funtimes BBQ, which featured a clown (our friend Monica swung by after a gig in full clown regalia and even made animal and sword balloons for us); a professional hula hooper (Mr. Dizzy Hips); a quick appearance from Sponge Bob Squarepants; darts; badminton; and an original Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine (we made vodka spiked watermelon ices). I made Jamaican jerk chicken and coconut ice cream ( Recipes from my Gourmet magazine days) got some Red Stripe beer and a friend brought his turntables to play a little dub and reggae. And to think I almost went to Topanga Days instead. I had wanted to go
listen to bluegrass bands and hippy out, but the thought of driving on
the crowded PCH, and spending way too much cash on booze and eats, was
just not my idea of fun in the end. Memorial Day is the first official day of BBQ season, why not kick it off proper like. And now, I'm a 'cue addict. Living in NYC, a “barbecue” involved sticking my head out the window and grilling on a hibatchi on the fire escape, while 10 people sat like sardines in my shoebox of a living room. But here, with a big backyard, “BBQ” is a different animal. And now I can't get enough. The next day, even after picking up bits of patties and cigarette butts from my yard, I did it all again, I grilled, guac'd, and gorged. Tonight I'm gonna do it again. Long live briquettes and lighter fluid! Huzzah to Summer!
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