Notes from the dweebs in Thebes:

Luxurious, luxuriate, Luxor land of smooth milk and sweet honey (not Canna, that was a bait and switch).

There’s an interesting thing about parties, they have a mind of their own. You can announce a start time for a party, but if you’ve picked one with the logic of Aristotle, the will of the world will remind you that all good things will happen as they may in their own sweet time. The air smells like rain. I’ve just awakened from a nap, into which I had fallen to assist in the digestion a fabulous late brunch at Mary’s: breakfast burritos with all of the fixins and them some. Flour tortillas from the warm stove acting as edible oven mitts for the scrambled eggs and sausage stew, habanera hot sauce, fresh chopped cabbage and grated cheddar, cherry tomatoes bleeding little seeds, coffee and juice, fruit salad with melon and apple, Spanish rice and cast iron potato wedges.

She has transformed her home into Kitsch heaven and our group of friends explored her manifold displays like children in a pop culture candy store. It’s 4:30. I suggested yesterday that our BBQ would begin at five. I put the meat in marinade at eleven or so – thin cut flank stakes, sixteen of them, soaking in tequila and lemon juice with onion, garlic, and black pepper kneaded into them. I have brats enough to feed a horde of hungry Germans and kraut enough to tempt the Kaiser to doff his pointed hat and bite into the juice of the well-turned link. Life is for the living. I am calm. I am a little sad. I am sober. Most of all I am sated at the well of Luxor and all life’s blessings flow. Ah well, off to knock one back in Karnak. I’ve many pictures and tales to share of wedding fun, but today I’ve guests on the way – and a party I will start in just nine short minutes – logical or no, I’ve got to go.