The BBQ was awesome, and I ate as if I was pregnant with triplets. Which I’m not. THANK GOD.
The non-breastfeeders of the group (i.e. everybody but me) had a Zinfandel tasting, which sort of worked out because I find Zinfandels gross.
I was thoroughly wiped by the end of the day. It took me nearly 20 minutes of laying in bed to figure out what all the thumping was. That’s how much I missed seeing fireworks.