Veni, Vidi, Vici

Okay, the plan is to go to Dallas Shakespeare’s production of Julius Caesar in October. Not that JC is one of my favorites. In fact, I think I still have a lump on my head from back when I had to read it in high school. The evil that men do just ain’t one of my favorite topics. But any excuse to drink wine in public with my pinky sticking out.

But I do have to say, that it has activated my strangely competitive side. Not that I’m competitive to an odd level. I’m just competitive in a peculiar way. Like checkers, once I’ve yelled “King me!” I’m pretty much done. In a foot race, I think whoever crosses the finish line the least out of breath wins. Poker, if I give you my chips will you let me drink my beer in peace? In a fight? You win! Yeah for you!

And the last time we went, there were some people with some very flash picnic gear. One group had this folding table that was like a foot tall. Yeah. I know. Nice right? And this other group had these little stakes that went into the ground with a crook that held your wine glass. Suh-weet. Cool chairs, nifty plates, sassy food items. I was so green with jealousy.

And I’m not going to take it lying down. The plan: dinner in a mason jar. I’ve been plotting with my partner in crime, and we’re thinking we’ll bake cornbread in the bottom of mason jars, then layer green chile stew on the top. Seal the jar, tie a napkin and a spoon to the top. Hell, yeah. One bowl meal. Completely recyclable. Mean and green. I’m kind of torn between trying to figure out a warm veggie to layer over the top, and just saying vegetables are for sissies. But that’s a minor detail as far as I’m concerned. The piece de resistance? Cupcakes. With the icing on the inside. Injected. No fuss, no muss, baby.

Tell you what. Those candy-assed yuppies at the Shakespeare did not know with whom they were messing.