So on Tuesday, when my Doug Hill warned us of the impending blizzard, Coleen sent out an email. "That's it -- I'm done. I refuse to acknowledge the reality that is before me, and command you all to come to my house for a Cheeseburger in Paradise party. Dress appropriately. Let me know if the bright red Jeep needs to come for you."
Ask me how fast I put on my Bermuda shorts!
And really this was just what we needed -- nothing chases the cabin fever away like the sight of a beach bum in a Tommy Bahama shirt, frying up the burgers in the George Foreman griller. Tommy Bahama really did intend to fire up the charcoal grill on the deck . . .
. . . but that plan didn't work out quite as he expected.[NOTE: Suck it, jungle of tomato-y tomato-ness!]
This was a potluck summer cookout, so we all brought our favorite summer sides: pasta salad, sliced tomatoes, a bowl full of fresh fruit. I made zucchini fritters -- fabulous, I'm just sayin'!
And what's a summer cookout without cool and refreshing margaritas?! Tommy Bahama kept the blender humming all night.
Most of us have been just the tiniest little bit stir-crazy, so we enjoyed visiting with faces we hadn't seen in a while. I met the daughter of Coleen's neighbor, so I had the added bonus of making a new friend.
The genuine Viking helmet sported a tropical fish for the evening. I really do need to tell you all about the genuine Viking helmet some time -- and about the fish, as it turns out. Some day . . . .
Everyone hated to leave -- partly because we were having such a good time, and partly because it was such a pain in the . . . boots to pull all that winter crap again and head back out into the thirty inches of snow that has been dumped on us this week.
It sure was a fun party, though!
