It had been months since I'd gone home to Modesto to visit my parents. I've been out of town so often as of late that the weekends just kept passing by, and the time away just kept racking up. Because of all that traveling, I've been seriously gassed recently, in desperate need of a break, so I decided to pack my bag yesterday, throw a case of wine in the car, and make the drive east into the Central Valley. Nothing personifies summer in my mind like a warm San Joaquin evening. Let's see...a few magnums of aged Bordeaux, some rosé, some post-meal grappa. What else did I need?
Some New York steaks might be nice. Sit outside, grill, shoot the shit with my parents, drink some claret, and let out all that retail stress.
I love posting up with the computer while my parents are cooking. Checking through email, while my dad gets his veggie skewers ready. I was reading a story about a local incident at Little Caesars, where a guy ordering a pizza told a woman eating there that she was too fat to be eating pizza. Her son then beat the hell out of him right there in the restaurant for insulting his mother. That cracked me up. Not that I condone violence, but in the modern internet age where people say whatever they want, whenever they want, anonymously, and with no repercussions, it's always funny when they slip up and forget how real life works. Real life is not like the internet. Especially in the Central Valley. We settle it in the street.
Summer salad. A warm afternoon breeze. Plenty of booze. The Warriors win game five. Game of Thrones goes out with a bang.