All told, there were 12 of us for dinner--not counting Whiskey, who despite her best efforts, doesn't eat people-food.
12 people. So of course, I barbecued enough for, no exaggeration here, for 30.
We had about nine chickens, four racks of ribs, a dozen hotdogs, potatoes, corn, salad, and of course my ever-loving felt absolutely obliged to serve cheese, and dips and crudite lest anyone spend 12 or 13 seconds without having their maw filled. Oh, and a salad large enough to fill a small swimming pool.
Then, my wife preferring pie, we had birthday pies--an apple, and a mixed berry, and my niece, having turned 21, a chocolate cake.
Oh, and fruit.
Oh, and god knows what else.
The kids ate, and had beers, and drank wine, and cuddled and played tug with Whiskey. And we all just laughed and told bad jokes and hugged and laughed some more.
Summer has arrived.