27 June 2010
 
Sangria



The big opening of the season party happened at Joe's last evening. Mary Margaret worked all the details, and the event was Sangria-powered and had plenty of food- the classic potato salad, excellent deviled eggs, three bean dip, fiery wings, and Diana Ross's most triumphant pigs-in-blanket.
 
If you can believe it, the great state of Virginia banned the sale of Sangria until a couple of years ago, on the grounds that no one should blend wine and spirits for commercial sale.
 
Joe has the answer for home consumption. He combines:

   1. 10 bottles dry red wine
   2. 5 cups pineapple juice
   3. 5 cup fresh orange juice
   4. 3 cups dry white wine
   5. 2 ½ cups gin
   6. 2 ½  cups light rum
   7. 2 ½  cups Cointreau or Triple Sec
   8. 2 ½  cups brandy
   9. 20 tablespoons superfine sugar
  10. 20 cups assorted sliced fresh fruit: apples, oranges, pineapple and grapes to taste.
 
Then everyone drinks it. I view the concoction with suspicion, and brought a bottle of Stoly just in case.
 
Almost everyone was there, though there were some notable absences. Little Sheeba and her brood, and Diana Ross’s daughter The Banana and her constant companion the grave skinny girl from down the hall who lives with Father, Stepmother and new infant in an efficiency.
 
Her mother just got custody and is sweeping her off to Manassas, which is just the other side of Alpha Centauri.
 
There were special guest appearances by former residents. The Texas Colonel who used to be President of the Condo association and his cute Asian wife were there, and so was Death Junior, who strictly speaking is no longer a resident of Big Pink, since she and her beau made the decision to get more place for the money our at Fairfax Circle.
 
I shuddered when she told me that, since the tower out there in the wasteland of Fairfax County is where the ex told me to live during the divorce, since that would be more convenient, and I decided to move to Arlington and ultimately to this grand if somewhat eccentric building.
 
There are certain things you cannot do at Big Pink, and that is grill on your own deck. The communal grill at the end of the pool would have been an option, but the walk is long enough that it would have divided the party into competing centers of gravity.
 
That was the case last year, when Jeremy and Chad orchestrated mass grillings and everyone wound up on the pool deck munching away in direct contravention of Rule 23- no consumption of food on the pool deck. That led directly to horseplay, Rule 7, and indirectly to the Revolt of the Grandmas, who insisted on bringing dozens of kids and grandkids to the pool in the depths of the August heat-wave, flouting Rule 12.
 
We are still feeling our way through the rules, individually determining which Rules to undermine. I am on my second attempt to comply with Rule 14, the prohibition against personal sound systems producing noise unless directly connected to your skull by earphones.
 
Spending as many hours as I do in the water, I tried a waterproof radio which turned out not to be, and is now thoroughly inert. On other business I found myself near the Apple Store in Clarendon in the morning, and walked in to see the rioting over the new iPhone.
 
I don’t know if you have been in one of Steve Job’s stores lately, but the quirky company has quite removed all the shelves and the goods are laid out on stark tables. It is kind of spooky, like being in a museum of technology. There were dozens of those iPads, and the phones of course, and Macs of many flavors, but it is all a little surreal. Apparently you have to engage a blue-shirted employee who conducts all the business on a PDA not much larger than one of the iPhones.
 
I am old and querulous these days, but did manage to find what I was looking for- a waterproof case for the microscopic iPod shuffle. When I figured out how to attract the attention of an employee- they are very busy- the transaction was completed without cash register and the receipt was e-mailed to my g-mail account.
 
Before the party, I tried it out in the refreshing blue water, and it seemed to work, except I couldn’t listen because Montana wanted to talk about the situation at work, and the elevators, and Jiggs had some information about a juicy development on the relationship front.
 
I shouldn’t have tried the new sound system on a weekend- there is too much scoop to soak up with the sun to wear a headset.
 
The word was that Jeremy and Chad were having a relationship crisis, part of which was being played out on Facebook, and it made me sad. They are nice guys and I want everyone to get along and be happy.
 
Marty 1 was having a good time, and after a couple drinks we wound up doing duets to Mary Margaret’s old rock n’ roll, and the lady from the Bureau of Prisons- BoP, for short- had everyone captivated with her smoky voice as we started into “Summertime, Summertime, Sum-Sum-Sumertime” in three part harmony.
 
Usually, these affairs wind up with us all in the water, and Marty 1 in her bra and panties, but it didn’t work out that way this time. We swam, made sure that Joanna had a few minutes to straighten up, and I wound up asleep on my balcony by nine.
 
I may be getting old. Or maybe I am just in compliance with the Rules around here for a change.
 
Copyright 2010 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Subscribe to the RSS feed!