That's the subtitle I am giving to tonight's Harvest Moon party, taking place in my backyard in less than 4 hours.
There's a new grill waiting for its first firing. The firepit still needs to be screwed together. I gave up on figuring out the new smoker last night after it got dark, so I have two briskets getting all happy-like in my oven. Yum!
The hot dogs are cozy in the refrigerator, next to the ground beef for burgers. There should be enough pop to float a boat.
Yep, there's stuff for s'mores -- I got a "little extra" just because I love chocolate and I'm hoping for a smidge of leftovers.
Yesterday I mowed the yard, trimmed the overgrown shrubs along the patio fence, scraped up six years of leaf mold that has composted along the pathway. I have approximately 93 mosquito bites from the effort.
It's time to put up the tiki torches filled with citronella oil, pull out all the folding chairs and start decorating the table. I'll need to get all the veggies cut up to put on the grill or to put out for fancy-ing up the burgers.
Moon rise is about 6:45 tonight. I can't wait!
The scarecrows? Well, there are six of them sitting around my living room in various states of construction. That's my "shoulda" project for the week -- as in "shoulda gotten 'em finished before now." Eh, I've got more time. They aren't going anywhere without me.
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6 comments:
I want to go that party! :)
We all awaut a report on the success of yer partay! :-) For the record, I'd perfer a bunch of scarecows! Mmmmmmmmbooooo! Mmmmmmmmboooooo! ;-)
It's 10 p.m., and the party is over. Everyone just went home and I had a few minutes to sit in my back yard and enjoy the gentle glow from the candles on the table and the tiki torches that encircled our seating area. The pinon-wood fire in the fire pit died down as I watched the silvery moon finally peek above the neighbor's 60-foot tall cottonwood tree.
The temperature was perfect -- the slightest suggestion of cooler nights coming. Not a breath of wind disturbed any of the fire sources. Not even a flicker.
It was a great party -- hot dogs, hamburgers, brisket with the fixin's. Later we made the s'mores, to the delight of just about everyone.
My nerves wore thin in the last hour before the party. Sometimes, when you've done this a few times, it is HARD to accept help, especially from a new fella. A good test of a new relationship is to try assembling something together, on deadline. The assembly of the fire pit should have been simple enough -- the directions were straight-forward and there aren't very many pieces to it. But dang, that male-female difference popped up again.
I'll not dwell on this part of the day because it would just be whining. Let's just say I do a lot better not depending on someone else to help me. Some people should just be guests who can enjoy the party without having the pressure of trying to help. (I better put that in my planning notebook so I will know better next time.)
Anyway, the new grill works GREAT! The new fire pit is spectacular and I may enjoy that a lot by myself this fall, if I don't have more parties. The tiki torches (which cost me a whopping $3 each) added a perfect touch.
The party was spectacular because of the people, too. We enjoyed eating and eating some more, and then we sang our little hearts out. I explained what makes a "harvest moon" and then told them all about the other full moons through the year.
We watched the moon rise through the trees.
People were having so much fun that a few sneaked off to use their cell phones and invite other people to come join us. That, to me, is a great party!
Maybe for October's Hunter's Moon we should have a Bloggers' Ball. We could make Moo Mummies and Scarecows just for E.R. And we could sing Pumpkin Carols. By then I should know how to use the smoker. MMMMMMM!
You nailed it, Frenzied!
OK, here's my story about last night, behind the scenes.
This fire pit thing had six steps in the instructions, and dear new friend had planned to put it together Saturday. He had so many delays at work, etc., that it just didn't get done. I figured I would just save it for a "special project" for him on Sunday, but again we had some late starts on it. As in he showed up after 4:30 instead of at 1 like he said he would.
I left it to him while I cooked briskets, made hamburger patties and moved a 6-foot folding table to the back yard, alone. There were a few times he hollered to ask me things like "which way are these clips supposed to go together?"
Um, I don't know. You've been looking at the directions for an hour now, and I haven't as much as glanced at it. What do the pictures say? (No, I didn't say it but I thought it.)
Anyway, when I was trying to set up that 6 foot table I discovered one of the supports was bent so it wouldn't open fully. BIG CRISIS!
He wanted me to get my hammer and pliers. But then my hammer and pliers weren't big enough. So he starts saying "give me the receipt and I'll take it back to Sam's."
Receipt? HE bought it! I don't got no stinkin' receipt!
Next thing I know, the table and he and his truck have vanished. And he's on the cell phone saying he called his friend (who lives 3 blocks from me) and told him to come over with his tool belt to finish putting the fire pit together!!!
Can you believe this??? There were two steps left. Here comes the friend "to the rescue" doing that same man thing: "What do the instructions say?"
"Well, 'George,' when last I looked at them, it said to set this round thing on the frame, put the top frame on it and then insert the side panels in it. Oh yeah, then we put the handle on the lid and it's done."
OK. We do that in 3 minutes. Then 'George' spends 35 minutes telling me how long he's lived in the neighborhood and who all the neighbors were. I invited him and his wife to come back to the party.
Dear new friend walks in the gate with a new table and he and "George" open it up, BEAMING that they have solved yet another problem for this poor dumb woman. Grrr. I try to be nice. I go in the kitchen to take care of all the food for 20 or so people.
NOW! Dear new friend comes in to MY KITCHEN, where I am about to cut up TWO hot briskets, and starts moving stuff around TO MAKE PINA COLADAS. He's piling stuff from my counters onto my cutting board. Basically, he's a bull in a china shop.
Fussing ensues as I ask him to please sit down until I can make a spot for him to use the blender. He starts saying "I'll just go home and make them there." I say "no, just give me a minute to make a plan so you don't destroy everything I'm working on!"
DING DONG.
First guest is at the (open) front door.
And wouldn't you know it, the first four guests who arrive are .... ALL MEN!!! Where are my GIRL friends when I need them? They wouldn't leave the kitchen door open while I'm preparing food! They would KNOW the flies and mosquitos are swarming in!
After my girls finally arrive, I am able to achieve an estrogen nirvana. They helped me by taking the platter of hamburgers and hot dogs out to the testosterone gang. I figure my sanity is worth letting them use MY NEW GRILL while I'm in the kitchen trying to salvage things.
This turns out to be the best execution of a plan all evening. I even let the guys start the first fire in the new fire pit.
But I'm telling you something now. I am going to use that new smoker FIRST no matter what else happens. This is my last new toy to play with first.
You go girl, I loved this story, and I sympathize. There are just basic differences in men and women, and sometimes they "just don't get it." Like Frenzied said, you just have to give it to them and walk away. I have found, after 23 long years, that it is best not to give an opinion unless asked or injury is imminent!
My motto has been, "you can't live with 'em and you can't kill 'em!" lol. Sounds like a great party! susan2
I'm wondering if the smoke did something to mutate that X chromosome into a Y. It would explain SO much.
Sorry, guys, if I've been sounding like a man basher. I'm really not. I'm just used to being independent and taking care of things myself. It's hard to be genuinely grateful for having a man call a friend to help me when I could take care of the task myself.
One time when I was in high school I got a flat tire at school. My mom told me to call my dad at work (something that was FORBIDDEN!). I called and told him I had a flat. He said, and I quote verbatum: "So? Change it." Click.
It was a little harsh, but it made me learn how to handle things alone.
Another time I made the dreaded mistake of running out of gas in the Datsun. A stranger let me use her phone to call for help. It was dark. There was three inches of snow and I was stuck in the middle of the road across town.
Says Dad: "You'll have to wait until halftime. The game just started." Click.
That was 32 years ago and I've never run out of gas again.
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