Party Crasher

We debated ... but only for a moment.

And it really wasn't that much of a debate. As a matter of fact it was more the posing of a quick question.

"You know ... Monday is our 300th post on the website.  Should we throw some sort of shindig to celebrate?"

Collectively and with gusto, we all blurted out "DUH!" and got down to business.

The result? The entire community of Stilleto Flats joined us over the weekend to celebrate.

We decided to rent the the Flats' local park for the event so as to accommodate everyone who wanted to come. There's nothing quite like tossing a fest at your home base, right?

And there was indeed the gathering. Tents and balloons and music and food and frolickry were the order of the day. Jeff made a big deal of it by whipping up his world famous Cocktail Weenie Casserole. Clark made certain his Corvette was washed and polished and behind velvet rope so everyone could gander at it and take pictures as they saw fit (No touching allowed though.) And me? Well ... I donned trousers for the occasion. You know ... as a change of pace.

There was laughter in the air, the Unbelieva-Babes made certain everyone had a refreshing beverage at hand, the dance floor was crowded, back slaps were given liberally, smiles shown everywhere and the good times were flowed in abundance.

And then?

In tow with several of his goons, that little rat bastard Henri Petit crashed the party with a big bowl of potato salad*.

And that's when all hell broke loose ... 

*In reality, the bowl wasn't that big. It was simply Petit's diminutive size that gave it that appearance.