Terry had such a good time with the National Championship (War Eagle! Hoot!) party he held in the mancave, he wants to do it again. I’m down with that. Men in a cave in the backyard,far enough away I can neither hear nor smell them, that’s my kind of party. All that is required of me is food- and not even that, really, but I offered because the gratitude at him having a party in the cave and not in my living room is thick and heavy. More tamales, he said they were a huge hit and Brandt even announced they were the best he’d had outside of the roadside stand in Oaxaca (what were you doing in Oaxaca? Um…let’s not discuss that, he answered). Last night as we were munching on chips and cheese dip at El Sombrero, I opined that a wee crockpot full of said dip might be good at the party and Terry concurred. However, our wee crockpot tends to get a bit hot and can scorch dips. It doesn’t have a setting, just “hot”, so we, being problem solvers, are working on a way to convert it to some sort of double boiler, maybe with a large beaker as an insert.
It turns out a couple of men who Terry didn’t think of inviting last time got their feelings hurt, and that’s part of his motivation for doing it again. He also wants to set up the firepit in there, and maybe even make a grate so they can possibly grill bratwurst or something, or hang a dutch oven full of chili. I don’t know…this thing keeps growing and growing. It is not, however, any of my concern. Other than the tamales. I already have everything needed to make the tamales except the corn husks and thanks to a very large Hispanic population in Statesboro, they’re very easy to come by.
Terry has never been a huge socializer. We just aren’t party people, preferring normally to have a couple of people over for dinner and shooing them out the door by 9. Even in college, a ‘party’ ment a few of us in Terry’s apartment and Buckaroo Banzai on TV. (or B’nook-a-noo Buzzno…which is what one of us called it when we were enebriated)
He is, however, really enjoying this bit of playing a host and having several friends over, and I am delighted for him. He gives so much of his time to everyone else, and to see him be able to cut loose with friends and just BE A GUY, all while staying at home so he doesn’t have to drive…it’s a good thing.
And the whole entire Super Bowl Sunday evening, I can just…watch a movie, read a book, and NOT wear a frenchmaid’s outfit or serve the men. Nor would they even think to suggest it, lest Terry, who’s 6 inches taller and 50 pounds meaner than any of them, whup their ass.