...on that long-ago summer afternoon, the doorbell rang and as I remember, it was Ph.D-Jr. with a small paper plate of grilled meat for us. I thought that was all there was to it, until the doorbell kept on ringing about every 45 minutes, with a new plate and the announcement "hamburgers", "pulled pork", "chicken" and so on late into the afternoon. Much meat was consumed that Fateful Day in all those years ago. Each year since, the 'Fest has expanded. One year, a Great Circle of Folding Chairs appeared like a crop-circle in the driveway. Many Men Met Then to Negotiate the Manifesto of MeatFest. (Basically, this means "we get to cook and eat meat and no girlz allowed").An exception was made a few years ago, when 'Jr's new young wife, a medical student, was too busy with studies to go to Dinner-Theatre so stayed home--but she avoided the party and studied!
