Saturday, I had a little shindig at the hacienda, a potluck with family & friends. The “bonus” at this gathering was a planned food fight. I’d really thought it through, laying out rules for what foods were throwable, where the fight would occur, what to wear, and how folks could observe the fight without getting food flung at them. Early on, Minime and her friends tried to start early without any rules and someone got beaned in the eye with a taco–”that’s why I said no throwing hard shell tacos! Go rinse the salsa out of her eye!”
When it was time for the event, we pulled a table and chairs out into the yard and put bowls of “safe” food on the tabletop: rice, pasta, Jello. The scenario we’d worked out was Thanksgiving Dinner at Grandma’s House and what would happen when Grandma left the room. We’re all seated ’round the table, I’m telling the story of Thanksgiving dinner to my rapt food-fighting audience and I suddenly fling Jello into the face o’ my dear friend Annie Oakley and it was on!
I was laughing so hard I thought I was going to pee. I had cold rice in my ear and purple Jello inside my shirt and I was laughing and shrieking and flinging pasta around like a poop-flinging monkey in the zoo. It was so fun, so much funner than I ever would’ve imagined! I haven’t laughed like that in years!
I didn’t anticipate just how nasty we’d all be, so food-covered that we had to be sprayed with the garden hose before we could go in the house to change. It was fantastic! We had to stand in the yard and comb the rice out of our hair—I’m sure the neighbors thought we had some sort of mutated lice infestation.
Good times! I’m now pondering the next get-together, considering a luau theme complete with making our own volcano, but I’m open to suggestions!