s'mores and sparklers
Ah, summertime, those eight months of the year where it is miserable to live in the Valley of the Sun! The break between semesters is dedicated to seeking as many opportunities to get out of the scorching heat as humanly possible - and I have only escaped for a matter of hours. Alas and alack, and woe is me!
I miss the annual camping trips of my youth, 1o days every summer spent on the East Fork of the Black River with my family and some of our dearest friends. I miss wading in the creek and catching crawdads, playing cards and dice during the afternoon rainstorms, huddling in the tent every night with Larissa. I miss the silence of the forest in the morning before everyone else is up, the pungent smell of the campfire in the chilly air, the trance that falls around the flames, gazing up into a velvet black sky pierced with countless crystal points of starlight, and the warm gooeyness of s'mores.
S'mores! That's the one part I can enjoy while stuck in the desert!
"Light a fire? In the summer? In Phoenix?" you ask incredulously. YES. I did. Right in my own backyard.
It wasn't as hot as it could have been, due in part to the fact that we see fit to cool the side yard with an outdoor evaporative cooler. Yes. Really.
A whole host of friends came over to indulge in the sweet scrumptiousness of s'mores, and we sat around the fire, waiting for coals and listening to Austin strumming on his lovely guitar. Utilizing a trio of cleverly contorted wire hangers, we roasted marshmallows to their golden brown, molten perfection, squashing them between the delicious layers of graham cracker and chocolate, and enjoying the stickiness of lips and fingers as the melted, sugary goodness oozed out.
Much to my continued delight, my father found some unused sparklers left over from July 4th, and once Marc had the brilliant idea to do some light painting, we started playing with fire. We stood under the arch of the orange trees, all strung about with lights and bits of glass twinkling in the firelight, and whirled our sparklers, enjoying ourselves immensely.
Once the supply was exhausted, we retired to the living room - in which we almost comfortably fit - to watch Muppet Treasure Island. Tis a silly movie, and best enjoyed when you can sing along full volume with all the quirkiness that such a film requires.
For reasons I do not yet comprehend, we only watched half of it before the premises were vacated. I was content to spend the next hour sitting on the trunk of Ryan's car, talking under the stars (yes, we looked - there were about 20 that you could see amidst the city's glare) about everything and nothing, under the constant chaperonage of my beautiful black panther-cat.
Oh yes, and on a side note, there were cupcakes. A Costco amount of cupcakes. I do so love cupcakes, with an intensity usually reserved for ... well, not for anything edible. I love cupcakes.
I miss the annual camping trips of my youth, 1o days every summer spent on the East Fork of the Black River with my family and some of our dearest friends. I miss wading in the creek and catching crawdads, playing cards and dice during the afternoon rainstorms, huddling in the tent every night with Larissa. I miss the silence of the forest in the morning before everyone else is up, the pungent smell of the campfire in the chilly air, the trance that falls around the flames, gazing up into a velvet black sky pierced with countless crystal points of starlight, and the warm gooeyness of s'mores.
S'mores! That's the one part I can enjoy while stuck in the desert!
"Light a fire? In the summer? In Phoenix?" you ask incredulously. YES. I did. Right in my own backyard.
It wasn't as hot as it could have been, due in part to the fact that we see fit to cool the side yard with an outdoor evaporative cooler. Yes. Really.A whole host of friends came over to indulge in the sweet scrumptiousness of s'mores, and we sat around the fire, waiting for coals and listening to Austin strumming on his lovely guitar. Utilizing a trio of cleverly contorted wire hangers, we roasted marshmallows to their golden brown, molten perfection, squashing them between the delicious layers of graham cracker and chocolate, and enjoying the stickiness of lips and fingers as the melted, sugary goodness oozed out.
Much to my continued delight, my father found some unused sparklers left over from July 4th, and once Marc had the brilliant idea to do some light painting, we started playing with fire. We stood under the arch of the orange trees, all strung about with lights and bits of glass twinkling in the firelight, and whirled our sparklers, enjoying ourselves immensely.
Once the supply was exhausted, we retired to the living room - in which we almost comfortably fit - to watch Muppet Treasure Island. Tis a silly movie, and best enjoyed when you can sing along full volume with all the quirkiness that such a film requires.
For reasons I do not yet comprehend, we only watched half of it before the premises were vacated. I was content to spend the next hour sitting on the trunk of Ryan's car, talking under the stars (yes, we looked - there were about 20 that you could see amidst the city's glare) about everything and nothing, under the constant chaperonage of my beautiful black panther-cat.
Oh yes, and on a side note, there were cupcakes. A Costco amount of cupcakes. I do so love cupcakes, with an intensity usually reserved for ... well, not for anything edible. I love cupcakes.
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