So, you pretend flew out this morning, which was a pleasant time to go, cool and quiet on the streets. You insisted on the subway, that you weren't carrying too much, and you could make it. We said goodbye at the top of my stairs and you headed back to your real home.
Thanks for pretend coming.
In actuality, my weekend was a little different, but still pretty fun. The dumplings from around the corner weren't made up, we actually did that part.
And we did love them.
We also really did have a picnic in the park for pals who were leaving. Instead of museums on Monday, we smoked meat* and hung out on Andy and Shiloh's stoop, where eventually babies took off their clothes and ran around in diapers and sandals. Just like you're supposed to do in Brooklyn.
Andy and Shiloh's neighbors provided the tunes, pumping from their doors/trunk open white Ford Bronco, which, let's be honest, could have been worse. There was another party going on down the street which looked likely, but ours broke up before the cops were called on them. Disappointment.
Even still, a pretty good weekend.
*James, Andy, Kent, and Tyson all chipped in on a smoker. To smoke meat. We are, presumably, going to smoke a lot of meat this summer.
**also, my wish has come true. It's summer hot/humid around here. I know everyone hates it, but I love it--though it did force me to take two showers yesterday.