The morning after or the morning of:

At my brother Andy’s wedding his two best men put on something of a roast of his quirks, many of which I share. Shawn said, “If you ask Andy what time it is, he’ll tell you how to build a clock.” When I write these “here’s what we did” blurbs I feel kind of like that. But if you’re interested read on, maybe I’ll digress in interesting ways.

My birthday is actually on the 23rd, but we all of course need today to recover from last night. As parties go there was minimal drama & maximal fun. Mary thought we all pulled off quite possibly a perfect party – with everyone chipping in to help get the food out etc. We had Beth’s crackers, meat and cheese, and Christie’s Chips & Guacamole as appetizers, grilled chicken fajitas and teriyaki salmon steaks with grilled asparagus as the main course, & strawberries and lemon cake for desert. With the new table the ambiance was just like being at a bistro. I had already had possibly a perfect day before the party even started. It had nearly everything I love in it.

I got up early to a few hours of coffee & NPR, roused Beth & Brad around eight and went for more coffee in the loop. On the way down we stopped off at a garage sale and I bought a wooden lazy-Susan for a dollar and a really nice blue ceramic dipping set – for olive oil and bread – two dollars. We went down to Soulard Farmers Market for the veggies, I still can’t bring myself to buy meat down there, but as per the pictures I am fascinated by what’s available.

Unavoidable Intellectual Digression -

Slovan Zizeck (sp?) makes the point that the fear of the other generally happens around the locus of enjoyment – xenophobia or racism begins with the concern/fear that this unknown other is going to steal my job, my food, my sexual partner – in short my enjoyment. Watch yourself when you’re around the food of the “the other” to check out what race/class boundaries you’ve been conditioned to have. “What kind of food is that?” “Why it’s Chinese, Lebanese, Vietnamese, etc.” The type is inexorably linked to race & the judgment reflects relative degrees of assimilation into “America”– as in that fact that we don’t generally call pizza Italian food or hamburgers German. (I put America in quotes to point out that in South America when someone asks you where you’re from and you say “America” it reflects a certain ignorance, in that they are also from America, you imperialist pig, just South America)

I’m personally afraid that meat sold under these market conditions is unsanitary & yet this is how most of the meat on the planet is sold & has been sold. This meat is probably less likely to give me mad cow disease than standard Wal-Mart fare as most small farmers don’t encourage cannibalism in their livestock. Probably a lot of it was produced under free range conditions on Missouri farms, though I’m sure a significant portion was just rerouted here from the usual grocery supply lines & is cheaper due to almost nonexistent overhead.

Close Digression -

Total cost for tons of vegetables, fruit, fresh roasted peanuts, a basil plant etc. was 13 dollars. I got a crown and coke & a brat for $2.50 each. I love the market & should go every Saturday.

After we dropped Beth off and got the groceries under control, Brad & I went shopping for golf stuff at tar-gay and then hit the driving range. I should have taken the camera out there, as the course is just beautiful. It’s up against Creve Cour Lake, which apparently you can windsurf on. I wasn’t doing so well with my drivers, an ugly slice, but I was consistently hitting the drivers straight and I was knocking balls 150 yards with my seven iron. That’s actually the first time I’ve ever been to a driving range, it’s a great workout and may be my new Saturday thing – when not actually golfing.

On the way back in from the county Angela called to mislead me into thinking that she was still at Noah’s bar mitzvah. I made a few Noah jokes about leaving his boat parked on mount Ararat and was generally snowed into believing that she was still there instead of already being at my house setting up the birthday surprise. I really had no idea, and given the number of people who were in on it they did an impressive job of subterfuge. We broke the table in with a round of drinks and Bob called to wish me a happy birthday and tell me the amazing story of our friend Bill getting to jam with Prince and entourage. I’ll link to Bill’s page and let him tell you that one.

Angela has just informed me that my writing time is up as we are off to Mary’s for brunch & to enjoy her new plantings, the ones that haven’t been decimated by the south city joeys (referencing the infestation of rabbits in Australia).