A friend had a birthday party on the shores of Lake Berryessa yesterday. As luck would have it, Ernie’s school was closed for a long weekend paint-job. We grabbed his best friend from school, packed up a cooler and some beach towels, and headed north to play hooky. Not a cloud in the sky, water just warm enough for me and children to play in, and a rented boat for waterskiing made for a lazy, exhausting afternoon.
We got the fire going before dark and started throwing things on the grill. Sweet potatoes, baby potatoes, asparagus, and sausage. Lots and lots of sausage. Plus a rib-eye to share. Manhattans shaken, candles lit, mouths stuffed.
Other party-goers camped out. One of my dashing husband’s few faults is that he doesn’t like to camp. Correction: he doesn’t think he would like to camp. He can’t say for sure because he’s never done it. The boys fell asleep as soon as we hit the highway. We savored the still of a long drive home in the dark.
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