Ah, the pig roast

Every year, Karen's fam has a pig roast/family reunion. This year, I was lucky enough to attend, and was pleasantly surprised at how much fun I had. I was given some vague details, but nothing that would have prepared me for the weekend.

'We toss eggs'
'We roast a pig'

This is pretty much what I had to work on, so I went in a little blind.

It started with the preparation party, where the pig, and two lambs were stuffed and tied. My gut reaction (pun unintended) is typically to revert to my vegetarian ways when I see animals, waiting to be stuffed, but this time it felt a little more like biology class than a PETA website. (This may have been due, in part, to the handful of beers and the more than handful of jello shots (thanks Will and Jess) consumed before the night was over.) There's a whole science behind how these animals are attached to their spikey-spit-turney-things (a technical term I learned from uncle Dale) and lots of raw garlic eating in the background. Inside the house, Croatian kielbasa was cooking on the stove, and the whole house smelled REALLY TASTY. (By the way, for those of you who need to google the word kielbasa to spell it correctly, it comes from the polish word for grilled cutlet and pressed meat.)

Karen and I were in charge of washing the hundred or so potatoes that would be roasted the next day. If you're pondering volunteering for this job at your next picnic, I'd caution you that one hundred potatoes is a lot more potatoes than it originally seems. But, in comparison, it beat having to do the actual stuffing/tying of the animals. So, we stood by between potato washing, and chatted with relatives, many of whom had a long day of 'ice gathering,' which apparently consists of ingesting large quantities of alcohol, and losing one of their cohorts along the way. Soon after, it was time to eat. Lots of food, lots of side dishes (I NEED that potato-crunchy-topping thing recipe) and a nice little thunder storm.  The storm kept us from swimming, but allowed us to play some Wii.  (I love the Wii.  If you don't have one, I highly recommend getting one.)  After some Mario Olympics time, we played Cranium's Kaboodle.  For any puzzle lovers/drinkers out there, this one's great.  AND - if you have jello shots at your disposal, it's even better!  There are word games, puzzles, drawing -- IT'S A SHIP!!! -- good times.  That lasted till after eleven, and we headed home and to bed.

Sunday morning, and we're talking about what I can expect at the picnic.  What follows is the actual discussion that took place:

'You mean, the egg toss isn't done with spoons?'
'Um, seriously?  (Insane amounts of laughter)  How would we do that?'
'I don't know, in my head it was done with spoons.'
(More laughter,with the added 'sometimes, you're such an idiot/very endearing in your misunderstandings' look)
'Do you mean like the egg race?'
'Maybe'

We're almost set to leave, and Karen asks if it's supposed to rain.  (Picture the shorts/tee shirt combo we both were sporting...)  The internet gods say it's only going up to 70*, that storms are likely, and that it's 60* currently.  (Wha?????)  So much for shorts, and we change.  So we drive to the other side of the world, to a park in the woods.  Meet up with everyone, eat lots of pig, (tasty) a little lamb, (kind of gamey) potatoes, (well cleaned) and corn (mmmmmmmmmmmmm, corn).  Played a great word game, that's sort of like scrabble and gin mixed.  Learned that Karen is freakishly good at word games (note to self: NEVER PLAY SCRABBLE WITH HER.) and actually thought that BYER was a word...  Oh, my spelling bee trophies are turning over in their drawers.

Cue the thunderstorm.  Torrential rains.  Soaking wet kids.  Overflowing gutters.  Just when it looks like there will be no egg toss, the storm stops, and we all line up.  Imagine fifty people, in two lines, taking turns throwing eggs at one another.  Good times.  I learned that if you're five years old, the egg can hit you in the knee and still not break, but if you're in your thirties and your girlfriend says the egg 'is fine' just before throwing it, chances are it's cracked, and will break all over your hand.

Good times. 
I can't wait till next year, when I bribe everyone to throw their eggs at Karen simultaneously.