Ted and I tapped into our inner Mediterraneans and hit the St. Anthony's Greek Fest a while back. Well, we saw an advertisement for it a couple months ago and when it approached, I asked, "So are we still going to the Greek Fest?" His reply: "Well, I'm going. I don't know what YOU'RE doing." If there's anything Ted loves, it's going like a lamb-eater to the slaughter.
We invited the illustrious Mike and Lilian to join us since it's been so long and we haven't been hitting the karaoke stage like we should. They were totally game, so we met up and we hustled our hummuses over there.
Who should we see in the food line but Jean, Tim, and their wee one. What an added treat! Well, it was two treats since we caught them snarfing down these little numbers. Behold, the Greek Donut. Christy, don't drool on your computer.
To know that Tim & Jean were eating dessert before dinner (and were planning to finish off a few pastries afterwards, too), cemented their good reputation in my mind, so the six adults, one baby, one fetus, and one bared hooter (won't say whose) sat down to a VERY yummy dinner of kebabs, shrimp, moussaka, rice and authentic salad. We were stuffed so of course, it was time to find some baklava. Oh yeah, and watch all those sweaty, hairy Athenians dance a little jig.
The pastry table was our first visit because we all figured we'd need to come back after we made our rounds to the other booths. Now, I love baklava as much as the next phyllophile, but frankly, I make a mean batch myself. Instead, I made a beeline to the apricot filled shortbread and the custard-phyllo creation, and we were not disappointed with our choices. But our trip around the converted parking lot was not without its own visual delights. First, the triplets being pushed around by grandpa.
Don't you just want to eat them up?? If they'd been wrapped in phyllo and dipped in syrup, Ted would have had a go at them. What he did appreciate though, was this: lamb on a spit. The side dish? Fries!
We turned a corner to check out the carnival-type booths they had going for kids, and I laughed out loud when I saw what they were using for the "Throw the ring around the bottle" game. I guess in some cultures, it's never too young to start.
I snapped this picture of a dude who was obviously at the wrong party.
And I've saved the best for last. During our wanderings, we ran into my former boss and his wife - co-owners of the mortuary where I worked a few years ago. We were delighted to see each other (Mary and I became good friends hanging out among the dead together), and what do you do when two people are so happy to see each other?? That's right! They hug!!
Well, in the time since I left that job to pursue my teaching career, Mary left the upper half of her wardrobe to pursue what she missed out on in heaven when she was standing in line (twice) for perverseness: boobies. I'm no small fry myself, but I swear, I hugged that woman and those things felt like two bocce balls on a board. I pulled back from her and exclaimed two words, "Whoa! Boobs!", then turned to Ted and asked "Have you hugged her yet? Here, hug her!" She laughed the whole time and then bragged she wasn't even wearing a bra... SO unfair. If I don't wear a bra, my belly button's got neighbors.
So Mary, here's my tribute to you: