Overall, I'd guess that we got around 50 people, which was roughly what I'd expected. This party is wildly weather-dependent: while we were going to hold it rain or shine, it appealed to a larger audience with the shine. And as it happened, the weather was about as good as one could hope for -- warm, but not scorchingly so, with such bone-dry humidity that the heat was comfortable and friendly instead of oppressive. So we got a pretty good crowd to come sit on our lawn and schmooze.
As usual, there wasn't much structure to the activities. Getting the good bocce set out seemed to go well (although the weight of the balls took some people aback). Pulling out the cheap new croquet set was a definite win -- it meant that the small kids could wander around whacking the balls randomly without my worrying about them destroying the antique set. And the Big Rubber Ball that msmemory picked up on a whim on Saturday seems to have made Cynthia's day.
The most absorbing activity of the day, though, turned out to be the game of "Amish 18" that completely took over once the party was down to about a dozen people. I would never have believed you could keep that going for half an hour. Clearly, a new party craze is in the offing here.
We didn't do too badly on the food front. The proportion of drinks drunk surprised me: we went through perhaps a dozen beers, maybe 4-5 liters of soda out of 20 available, and seven *gallons* of lemonade. Don't know if that was because the lemonade was particularly convenient, or it was just A Lemonade Day. Regardless, I'm now starting to drink my way through the opened sodas. (Fortunately, several weren't even opened, so we'll just hold on to them for a later occasion.)
We overbought the meat by about 50% -- excessive, but not excessively excessive, and I'm happier to have plenty. Half the chicken never even got prepared, so that just gets frozen for now. And I have realized that, as part of my current job, I am sitting less than ten feet from the grill. So, shucky-darn, my diet kind of goes out the window this week, as I selflessly throw myself on the leftover-meat grenade.
(And I am reminded, once again, that the thighs are totally the best part of chicken. Yes, I'm sure that the breast is healthier, but the thighs are about ten times tastier. *Especially* on the grill, where their inherent moistness contrasts magnificently with a good crisping on the outside. Yum...)