Memorial Day Pool Party . . . great host here in Pearland!

But I make a Lousy guest!

The pool is remodeled and summer is here (at least here in Pearland).  It's time for the annual Memorial Day Pool Party and Barbecue!

So, I've spent two days preparing for a feast!  I've soaked beans overnight so that I can add sausages and boil those deliciously.  I made two kinds of salsa, starting with fresh tomatillos, tomatoes, and various peppers from Julian's garden . . . one salsa with avocado and one without.  (Hmmm . . . every time I type the word "avocado" I remember how I lost the spelling bee on that word in school.  It seems that our teacher pronounced it "avocaldo," as though it were some type of green Mexican soup, so I spelled it like that and was disqualified.  I blame her!)

Nonetheless, the biggest prep work was the macaroni and pea salad.  I chopped celery, green onions, pickles, tiny cheese cubes, bell peppers -- red and green -- jalapeño, all to serve a 1 pound bag of elbow macaroni . . . + mayonnaise, mustard, and pickle juice!  It had to "cure" overnight . . . so it should be extremely yummy!

And three whole chickens are marinated and ready to go on the Traeger smoker . . . mmmmm . . . going to be so good.

So, since I had the "jump" on this feast, I decided to attend my dear friend Kassandra's pool party, held

one day early.  After 2-3 beers in the sun, my tongue was rambling into dark places unknown by most, and feared by many.  ("Shut up, old man," I kept telling myself, "there are women and children present.")  But on and on my tongue flapped into deep, dark despair until I realized I had to go home and go to bed.  It was 6pm and I was unpleasant company.  It happens.  I'm a light-weight.

But today is a new day.  And I'm the host of this pool party.  And I shan't drink a beer.  And a wonderful feast will be had by all, assuming they attend.

And I thank God for the right to tell this story.  And I thank my living soldier friends and ask God to be kind to those who shall have bourne the battle.   Happy Memorial Day . . . don't do what I did at someone's party . . . bury thy tongue.

So . . . am I the only one who has ever had a few beers and let his tongue get the better of him?  Or, have you, too?  What's your story?