Today I ventured into new territory. A place where I am as out of place as a nun at a casino. A place as foreign to me as the underside of my car hood. A place I have carefully avoided for thirteen years of marriage.
The Grill.
Hubs was late. I texted him a cutesie message hoping he was minutes away and had forgotten to call. But no, it was not to be. He was working late. I had potatoes crisping in one pan. Spinach sauteing in another. All that was left was Hubs and the flank.
Damn, I thought. It was going to be impossible to eat on time if the meat was still waiting for him when he arrived. I had almost made grilled cheese for the kids, ordered Chinese later for us. But no (again), I decided to cook a yummy dinner. Things were in motion. I was going to have to take action.
So, I poured myself a beer. There was wine open, but I wasn't about to make a cheese plate for the first time. There was fire involved. I needed a manly drink. I went outside, pulled the cover off. I fiddled with the knobs, started the gas, got a flame going. How hard can this be? And then, I grilled a steak.
I GRILLED A STEAK.
Now, how to properly brag about this to Hubs, without giving the impression that I will ever do this again?????
Friday, January 23, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Wow, that is a dilemma. On the bright side, I think men love the grilling duty too much to give it up, so bragging would do minimal damage in the long run.
Congrats on the steak. I wouldn't have done it myself. I have a fear of fire. Even matches and lighters fill me with terror. I'm so sad.
Post a Comment