Four pigs' worth of ribs
| Friday afternoon. | |
| Amy, to Jeff: | “I think I’ll do ribs tomorrow night, since Gareth is flying back in.” |
| Saturday morning. | |
| Amy, to Jeff: | “Hey, Tim said he was free on Saturday. Want to give him a call?” |
| Saturday afternoon. | |
| Tim, to Jeff: | “Sure!” |
| Jeff, to Tim: | “Dinner will be at around six…you want to bring something? Hey, Ames, what can he contribute to dinner? |
| Amy, to Jeff: | “Dessert would work. Gareth likes cheesecake, so how about cheesecake?” |
| Saturday afternoon. Less than ten minutes later. Phone rings. | |
| Rick, to Amy: | “Hey, we’re all in town, it’s a holiday weekend, and we’re not doing anything. Why don’t we get together at my place?” |
| Amy, to Rick: | “I’d say yes, but we’ve already got people coming over here. Do you and Jess want to join us?” |
| Rick, to Amy: | “Sure! What can I bring?” |
| Amy, to Rick: | “How about some kind of vegetable?” |
| Rick, to Amy: | “Hey, do Kat and Sean know about this?” |
| Saturday afternoon. Five minutes after second phone call. | |
| Rick, to Amy: | “Kat and Sean will be joining us…” |
Right. A typical Saturday. Unless that single slab of back ribs has magically done a loaves-and-fishes routine in the fridge, I think it’s time for me to stop coding and start heading to the butcher’s. What was looking like a quiet dinner for three is now more closely resembling a boisterous dinner for eight. As usual, I seem to be incapable of cooking for anything smaller than a battalion.
I guess this means we should clear off the kitchen table, then? At this rate, we’ll destroy about four pigs’ worth of ribs, render my kitchen a disaster area, and then get Tim to show off his best Alabama-Scottish accent during a couple of games of Settlers of Catan.
Jeff, Saturday afternoon: “I think you like Huntsville a lot better now that we’ve got a circle of friends.”
I just grinned.
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