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08-31-03, for Russel Hoisington
Grilling a New Subject
Red meat. Fire. Charcoal. Lighter fluid. Beer. Lots and lots of beer.
La Taverna has taken on a decidedly ‘holiday' feel today, and Our Nymph has placed herself in the middle of the activities. Who knew they made aprons to fit over a set of wings?
There's a flurry of activity in the corner. Splashing. Splashing? Sure enough. Our nymph has brought in a hot tub, and the patrons seem to have filled it past capacity. However, one suspects that there's slightly more than simple soaking happening, so perhaps the tub's capacity limits count folks sitting atop one another as “one person” rather than two (Three? Oh, good grief, people).
Was beer mentioned? Bottles, opened, unopened, half-empty, half-full, lay scattered across the tables. And, speaking of tables, gone are the normal round, scarred wooden tables so comfortable and familiar to the patrons. Instead, the patrons are fannying up to wooden splintery picnic tables reaching from the east wall to the west. Red checked table cloths - plastic, naturally – are fluttering in the breeze. (Breeze? We're indoors, aren't we? Ah, but such is the magic of the Nymph.)
There's a squeal and yelp as a female patron stands up. She's discovered that the plastic webbing used on those lawn chairs isn't friendly to bare skin. Another squeal and yelp as one of the men offers to rub away the marks.
Ah yes, Labor Day. That day to celebrate work by not working. And a day to celebrate also a birthday. A birthday for one of our own.
So, Russ. Come and get a burger from the grill (or a hot dog, or some chicken. And there's potato salad, and macaroni salad. And I'm pretty sure someone else brought another macaroni salad and some coleslaw. And don't forget a slice of watermelon – I'd suggest that you get it before the men looking for alternative forms of masturbation get hold of it. I know I saw a plate of brownies over there, and if you hurry, you can still get a piece of the good carrot cake.)
And as soon as you're settled, we'll raise our bottles and toast.
Best of birthdays, Russell!
