When my instant messenger buzzed me at 2pm on a Sunday, I had my feet up and I was watching the Nationals get clubbed like baby seals. The message said, “It would be a sin if we didn’t drink margaritas today.”
Hmm. Now there’s an idea. It’s just about perfect out there. So I pinged Mike back, and suddenly we’re off to the store to get flank steak, onions, peppers and guacamole makings. Because really, what goes better with margaritas that some spicy fajitas? I thought so. Harris Teeter, much like Home Depot on Saturday, was a complete zoo. What is it about perfect weekends that turn normal retail outlets into chaos zones? People not watching where they’re going, leaving their carts blocking the aisles, running over my wife at one point… It was insane. I was glad to be out of it, with the windows down and the sunroof popped to head over to Mike’s place.
At some point Margaritas became three kinds of Sangria, and I realized that the perfection of Spring might well lead to some unintended consequences in the morning. Not caring, I drank deeply from the glass of forgetfulness as the evening drew on. The fajitas were spicy, the company delightful, and best of all, this is just the first of many barbeques to come. Welcome back, good weather!
This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs