Party! Party! Party! (Sorry that was a chant from 1973, the beginning of my university academic life–probably should have been study! study! study!–but just doesn’t have the same ring to it!)
Let the frivolity begin! It is Friday. Not only that, it is the beginning of a holiday weekend. The reason for the holiday weekend is superfluous to me; the important thing is that it is a holiday weekend.
Does anyone remember having wiener roasts? When it was okay to offer people hot dogs roasted over a real fire, with real wood in a brick encased fire pit? My parents had a sort of outdoor mini fireplace they built with my older brothers’ help and it was the heart of summer at my house.
We gathered around the makeshift hearth for many a wiener roast, hamburger binge, and on occasion steak fry (it was not really fried, hence I do not understand the term, but hey, who am to argue with a time-honoured tradition?)
We did not have steak a lot, but my parents would buy a half cow or quarter cow at the end of summer from some farmer who had it wrapped in a million big and little brown packages secured with string. At the beginning of the procurement of the partial cow, we had the steaks. The steaks were big T-bones, and if I remember correctly, I could eat one that was about half my size. Now mind you, as I get more mature (?) I may remember things a little differently than they really were—but I swear those steaks were humongous.
And we would have potato salad with egg (always with egg), cottage cheese encased in green Jell-O (which I would never, ever eat!), huge mounds of coleslaw, and for dessert there was watermelon. We would cut it so that we could eat it without forks, and of course have seed spitting contests. (This sounds like I am making it up—but I am not—just ask my brothers and sister—oh, sorry—they do not want me to divulge their identities—so you will just have to take it from me).
There will be no wiener roast for me this Labour Day weekend. We had to retire our barbeque a few weeks ago as it had just given up the ghost. We put it out at the road, and some poor guy came along and took it before garbage day, and as he was loading it onto his truck, all the burnt briquettes spilled out onto him. I just happened to be looking out the front window when he was loading it up and felt bad for him. Hope he got something out of it for his trouble.
Anyway, I digress. I am not sure what is on the menu for this weekend. Are any of you having a barbeque you want to invite a charming couple to—we will byob and some extra if you throw a couple more hot dogs on the *barby for us. Have the mustard ready!
*Friends from down under — did I spell this right – feel free to correct me and I will edit it.