Fiesta por Cinco de Mayo (al día siguiente)

I woke up this morning, Mother's Day, feeling like I'd been out all night drinking vodka and smoking cigarettes. While I'd done nothing of the sort, I could pin the cause of the feeling on two things. It was the morning following our fifth annual Cinco de Mayo party, which was held in my pollen-laden backyard. The pollen makes my allergies absolutely aggressive, and then there was a strong push of smoke coming consistently off of the fire that we'd lit in the fire pit. Though the beauty and heat of the fire made the night that much better, it did nothing but wreak havoc on my throat the following morning.

My head was aching; my body felt completely drained. Though I hadn't gotten drunk, I did have a few cervesas over the span of six hours, and a cup of Patron XO Cafe (to die for, thank you M & J) that my dear friend MK had brought over. The booze dehydrated me, and once W and I went to bed, we were both too tired to get up for some water.

Our slow, bumpy wake up was worth it. The Cinco de Mayo party was a total blast. We had about 20 of our closest friends come to kick off the warm season. Everyone was in good spirits, and many came in their Mexican best. Our friends S + V came an hour early, thinking they were an hour late, which was such fun! S and I chatted while she helped me get things set up; we tested the dip and shared a drink before the party got going. They had arrived with armfuls of blow up cacti, which were hysterical (and are currently being housed in my basement for next year's party). While S and I were kicking it housefrau style, V + W went to V's house to get wood for the firepit. My friend MK's husband J wore an awesomely thick mustache, and changed his name to Diego for the night. (Ironically, I wanted to name my son Diego before we settled on his decided name.)

We had a hot sauce contest, and everyone was invited to take a blind taste test and register their vote. Our first tester, RR, chose to cleanse his palette with a shot of Patron (he and his wife brought us a bottle), one shot between each of the first three sauces. His co-tester, VP, followed suit. People watched with interest as RR and VP compared flavor, degree of heat, and originality. Six more people sampled then voted, and a winner was chosen. In the process, though, our friend KT said that after tasting one of the sauces, her mouth was so numb that she could have had a root canal and wouldn't have felt a thing.

I rarely post pictures from parties, but this one is awesome so I got permission from the subjects to share it on the blog. Here, the first runner up along with the winner of the hot sauce contest; the winning sauce is called Scorned Woman. It's blurry because it was taken with my cell phone, and our pal on the right was moving.

J making a sad face (at my urging) with his chipotle based hot sauce,
and MC with his winning sauce Scorned Woman, and prize The Tequila Cookbook. 

We spent most of the night laughing, and the night passed too quickly. We played a game, created by W's sister M, where everyone had to write what Cinco de Mayo is about. We had prizes for three categories: the right answer, the most wrong answer, and the funniest answer. The prize for funniest was my old Shawn Cassidy album, the most wrong answer was an untouched vintage game, Perquacky.  The answers were funny, and no one actually knew what we were celebrating.

My attempt at introducing the tequila cake (which did fairly well at a local bar on the actual fifth of May) fell short. My friend KP made her legendary delectable brownies, and KScorna made a fabulous Margarita Pie. There's a piece or two left in the fridge, but most of the 9 x 13 pan filled with pie was enjoyed during the party. It was so good that people had seconds and thirds. KScorna is going to share the recipe with me so that I can post it here.


After W and I rolled out of bed, we headed to our favorite diner. Though there was a line of people waiting for a table, we confidently walked inside, hoping to find a two-top. At the counter sat two of our friends, who'd been with us at the party last night, with their children. Somehow, despite the late night they'd shared with us, they looked amazing, H even donning a pretty, fitted pink dress. W and I, on the other hand, had barely brushed our teeth and still smelled of the previous night's smoke.

Blame it on the Patron.