"Well, it must be summer. I smell smoke."
And with that, our neighbor made Bubba happier than I ever have just by tossing this one phrase over the fence.
At the time, he (Bubba) had just fired up the smoker and was getting ready to cook up a pork shoulder and some boobs for an intimate Memorial weekend BBQ.
And in typical Bubba fashion, the smoke was billowing and we had begun drinking ceremoniously early on a fine Saturday afternoon (morning). Never let it be said that we are without class.
We then spent the rest of the weekend fucking around with the smoker in one way or another (Is it still smoking? Did you add more wood? I thought you were going to add more wood. Well someone better add more wood! Did you check the meat? I thought you were going to check the meat. Someone better check the meat! And it goes on...) and basically continuing our quest to be sobriety-free throughout our three days off.
However, between refills, I did manage to bake some bread, make some coleslaw, mix some hogwash to go with the BBQ, bake some surprisingly good Peanut Butter Toffee cookies (surprising because they came from the Martha Stewart Food magazine which is widely known to suck ass):
Pick an armload of sweet peas:
Host a puppy party:
And spend plenty 'o time refereeing the dog/cat/food bowl love triangle:
And then Bubba made us a leftover BBQ picnic yesterday, which was the best ever:
And, if you're wondering how one might compile the perfect BBQ sandwich, Bubba was happy to demonstrate:
The ensuing sandwich demolition was not documented due to adult content and language. Try not to think about it.
Now we're all back at work wondering how three days can go by so fast when it's not spent behind a desk trying to remember what a summer's breeze feels like or how many cocktails one can get out of one bottle of Bombay Sapphire.