Not that there's anything wrong with that

So I spent the evening of Swiss National Day at a barbeque, where The Big Finn (with apologies to Gretchen) proved to be a true grillmaster. In addition to the fine food and libations, as the fireworks started and the rain moved in, TBF busted out a humidor filled with Cuban cigars (a guilty pleasure for Americans, for whom all things Cuban are illegal...and boy, is that boycott ever working wonders!). It was my first cigar in years, and it reminded why I liked them--then, when I woke up with my throat and mouth feeling and tasting like wet burlap, it reminded me why I don't smoke them very often. Best of all, I learned today that I was being introduced in jest as their gay friend--I guess that's what happens when you're the only one single guy at the party (and in fairness I was wearing very Euro-looking shoes, although I didn't have my man-purse).

Hearing about the incident with the s'mores at the barbeque reminded me of one time when I was a kid and we were roasting marshmallows around the campfire. My marshmallow caught fire, and the most logical way to put it out seemed to be to wave it in the air. I guess I got a little over-aggressive in trying to put it out (I never liked my marshmallows too charred), because the next thing you know I was flinging burning marshmallow bits across the campfire. I have a clear image in my head of everyone diving to get out of the way of little flaming bits of marshmallow like it was napalm or something. Ah, youth...