July 10, 2003

This Independence Day, I learned that using three times the normal briquettes and putting the brisket on the fire fat side down leads to a blazing inferno. I also learned not to block the lid with a bunch of corn right before you create a roaring, beef fat-fueled firestorm. And that throwing cookie sheets on top of the fire is not the same as closing the lid. And that fire is mesmerizing. And that squealing at it, spraying it with water, or splashing it with beer does not put it out. It was not my finest hour.

After I indulged in three rounds of sprinting back and forth from the kitchen to the back yard, screaming, then hurling cookie sheets and beer on the fire, Brian interceded and saved the day. He made me settle down and promise not to throw anything else at the flames, then fished out all the corn on the cob that was blocking the lid, which we closed, and voila! The blaze subsided long enough to retrieve a brisket that was significantly drier and more charred than usual, but still more or less edible. Of course, I didn't get to bask in my usual post-brisket glow (as a rule, my briskets are super-yummy, not dry and carbonized), but I'm hatching plans to make everyone come back for a more representative presentation of my brisket to satisfy my pride.

The Brisket Incident aside, the 4th of July was nice. I got to see some charming people I hadn't seen in months, I got to stuff my face hole with four different desserts, and I got to drink an appalling amount of beer. AND since we actually cleaned up the house in preparation for having guests, the house is presentable for the first time in at least a year. We're making plans for weekly entertaining to shame us into keeping it this way.

The clean house is very exciting, but it was also surprisingly disorienting at first. Without all my unfinished business blocking my path, I had trouble figuring out what to do. The lack of both furniture and boxes is particularly unbalancing. I'm not exactly a minimalist, so having walls crowded with endless displays of crap and empty floor space is just... unsettling. Like living in a tacky, poorly planned, and pointless museum.

For the first couple of days, I just wandered from room to room, befuddled. But then I got the hang of the whole open space thing and it has been very energizing. I'm all about the TCB. Aside from the shameful 20 minutes I spent stuffing the ballot box on the "Does Matt look like John Travolta?" Paradise Hotel poll on Fox (he does; but not in that picture they used), I've been very productive all week. The dogs are into it, too. Without the constant threat of avalanche, Kiki, a natural cringer, has been particularly high-spirited.

Yeah, I did stack everything in my now-furnitureless bedroom (but neatly! so orderly!), and yeah, it will need to find a new home on the double, as my bedroom set is finally on its way (!), and yeah, if I think too much about miraculously clearing it out, stripping the walls, taking down the shelves, and painting before the furniture arrives, I want to sob quietly in the corner--but in the meantime, I can actually do a cartwheel in my living room!

In fact, I think I'm going to go do one right now.

6.26.03