The good news: the sun came out for us between 3:30 and 5:30 and, in that time we were able to shoot this awesomeness:
The better news: In preparation for the BBQ, and with the lighter fluid nowhere in site, I was forced to make fire like a real woman. Having never been a girl scout and because I insist on barbecuing with mesquite charcoal and not those unsettlingly-square briquettes, this took me upwards of an hour. When I finally bit the bullet, got on my hands and knees and blew smoke and ashes in my face for ten minutes, I was rewarded with roaring flames and red-hot coals. Very satisfying and very womanly. (If I ever get lung cancer, it will not be from my brief romances with nicotine, but from the amount of ash and smoke I inhaled in those ten minutes.)
The bad news: my brioche buns were not up to my expectations. Next time.
As per usual, Gus knew where the party was. I literally saw a string of drool drip from his jowls during a particularly concentrated begging session.
We finished the day with a drunken parade to the roof for the sunset. Very safe.
Not a bad weekend.
No comments:
Post a Comment