i'm taking a chance. that it'll be warm enough for an outdoor potluck. and hey, because i'm an avant-garde city dweller, this ain't gonna be your momma's potato salad and bbq potluck, no way. it's going to be a *sangria* potluck, wherein everyone brings their own version of that oh-so-yummy drink and we all get trasho-smasho in the name of truth, justice, and the best way to use up that cheap bottle of wine that's been taking up space in your wine rack.

after all the sangria gets drunk* and before all the guests get sleepy, there will be many lame white-person attempts to salsa. or meringue. or hell, it doesn't matter as long as it involves hips moving together on a sultry night. this is what i imagine, anyway. in reality it'll probably be freezing and rainy, because hello? are we ever going to get spring here in philly?, and everyone will be wishing it had been a hot mulled wine potluck and shivering in their tank tops strappy sandals.

* haha! drunk sangria! it's stumbling around on wobbly legs, chatting up all the girly drinks in slurred spanish. it doesn't give up, even when it gets slapped indignantly across the cheek for putting its hand a bit too far up the shapely thigh of a frozen margarita who's making eyes at the mojito across the room, until finally it passes out in the punch bowl and wakes up the following morning with the taste of rotten fruit in its mouth.

so, any of you have a to-die-for recipe for sangria? especially, a great recipe for *white* sangria? (karl, that otherwise fairly levelheaded fellow, does not like red wine. silly boy.)