Saturday, August 30, 2008

BBQ Days, a tradition we hold dear

Usually a tradition involving doing shots of Jäger (“hunt-master"???) and Jeremiah Weed (favorite drink of the American fighter pilot!) until one finds oneself the next morning in a tent pitched in the yard , holding on to the sides of a very tumultuous air mattress and trying to find the door to prevent barfing where one sleeps...followed by a heinous hangover. And vows to never repeat drinking like that EVER. AGAIN. And which vows are usually long forgotten by the rolling around of the next BBQ Days.

But this year I am admitting (and repeating to myself), “Remember: Alcohol Depresses the Central Nervous System!” which means it is not something I need to introduce into an already iffy chemical environment (i.e. my brain). Also, I'm getting too old for that kind of binge drinking. Or too smart. Both, I think.

Anyhow, there are plenty of festivities to enjoy sans alcohol, if you're into really small town shindigs. Which you kinda have to be every once in a while because otherwise your entertainment options are nil.

Exhibit A: The parade. Which was really long this year.
Highlights include:

a really old fire engine
(required in every small town parade)

a flatbed full of 68-year olds

county fair royalty

National Guard Humvee with eagles and flags
poorly spray-painted on the side(seriously, it looked like a rattle-can job)---
not sure why I didn't get a photo,
perhaps the horror paralyzed me

crazy shriners

HS marching band
(hoping the old guy with the trombone is the band teacher)

And my reward for sticking it out until the very end...

Indian frybread with maple topping
(a.k.a. the sugar coma)

(Keith is now in Roundup, Mont. on another fire. He could be there for a few days or a few weeks. He's still trying to convince me he should go to work in Alaska this winter, with a guy on the same crew he's on now... but I don't see him talking me into that one, regardless of the "insane amounts of money" to be made. Being without him these past couple of weeks has been hard enough---and it's not even over. There's no way I could do 6 months. And, besides, we need to get cracking on our Tiny House Building.)


Chris said...

Maple frybread. Holy shit.

Patia said...

Mmm, that looks gooood.

So glad I found you!