skinny girls & mayonnaise

I had just finished lunch of Mexican food and ice-cold beer with my father and brothers, and was now standing outside the Home Depot in my t-shirt, shorts and flip flops, waiting for a customer service associate to swap out my empty Amerigas propane tank for a full one.

I would be barbecuing for friends this evening, and needed my back-up tank full just in case. After all, I’d had to use the Weber to cook my Christmas dinner when the main propane tank went dry. And suddenly, thinking of this, I had a moment of sadness. It was mid-January. Another 80-degree day, another cold beer, another barbecue… and what happened to winter, to whisky and braises?? We can’t even go skiing because there’s no snow in the mountains. As I write this, many of the mountains are, in fact, on fire.

Happy, lightly dressed girls, camping in January

I know it’s difficult for those of you friends in the Midwest, on the East Coast, and in Canada, Iceland, the British Isles and beyond, swallowed by various polar vortices, nor’easters, blizzards, ice storms and so on, to have much sympathy for our plight. We don’t need a shovel to get out to the mailbox. But I’ve got jackets and mittens I’d like to wear! My woodpile in the backyard is looking sad and forlorn. I don’t want to eat any more corn and tomatoes. I want to use the Le Creuset and not the Weber.

Last weekend, we went camping with the Cub Scouts at Leo Carillo beach in Malibu. Everyone at the campsite was walking around in shorts and drinking beer. My 3-year-old daughter shed her clothes and was having fun splashing in the tide pools and petting starfish. For dinner, the designated camp cooks grilled carne asada and made tacos. When we got home on Sunday, my friend Greg and his wife Jackie came over for a tequila tasting, and I grilled carne asada and made tacos. On the news, the seven-day forecast shows little happy suns and palm trees as far as the eye can see. This is not how winter is supposed to be.

It’s sad to be a person who loves clouds and rain living in a desert.

Our son has been having January lemonade stands, and getting quite a lot of business. The other day, and ice cream truck was driving by and stopped for a lemonade. When God gives you lemons, you have two choices — get frustrated that you didn’t get the strawberries you were hoping for, or make lemonade. So we open the sliding doors, kick back out on the deck listening to rock & roll, mix up some margaritas and turn on the barbecue.

And wait for the clouds.