Then we had to find room for it all in the refrigerator.
We failed to do so.
No matter! We have coolers. That have now been filled with ice and melon and cheese and carrots and . . . okay, never mind, you get it. That have been filled. And are now sitting on the floor in the kitchen.
At this very moment, I have mustard seed steeping in hot beer to make mustard for the sausage (FYI: boiling beer is NOT appetizing at 6:15 in the morning) and garlic roasting in the oven for a white bean and garlic dip. As soon as A. gets up and fixes the flat tire on his truck, we'll go into the Small City to pick up the keg.
And when we come back, it will be time for the rushrushrush of the pre-party panic: chill all the champagne and other beer, sweep the porch, move those bales of pine shavings that have been sitting in front for two weeks, put on tablecloths, make sure the bathroom is clean, set up glasses and plates and utensils, arrange the appetizers, find bowls and serving spoons and napkins and WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE TOOTHPICKS?
Are you tired yet? Yeah, me too. See you on the other side.