Last week, I lived through the crazy onslaught of bad luck with non-working computers, broken plumbing and unsettled digestive systems. My one awesome customer service experience turned out to be almost as bad as everything else. Our broken satellite radio, it turned out, was exhanged for an inferior model. I won't die from the inconvenience, but with no Artist Alert feature, I'm needlessly missing out on a lot of Foreigner. I know, I know. Call Lifetime. Someone should be making a weepy made-for-tv movie based on my life.
But I digress...
Over the past few years, I've had a baby by myself, orchestrated several moves on my own, learned to use the riding mower and the weed whacker, dealt with car troubles, house troubles and technology troubles, and nursed myself and my kids through numerous battles with illness, sadness and separation anxiety. None of this was fun, but all of it was educational.
But there is one area of my life where I have stubbornly left the man-job to the man, and when he hasn't been around, that job simply hasn't gotten done. I am talking, of course, about manning the barbecue.
I am a really big fan of barbecue. Meat, vegetables, fruit, pizza. You name it, I could eat it year-round above anything else. So, when the Captain comes home and tells me he's going to be away for x number of weeks, from this date to that, my first reaction is not to contemplate the misery of the separation. It's to mentally calculate how many of those weeks fall into the spring and summer months, and exactly how much barbecue am I going to be missing out on here?!
Well, no more! This week, I researched how NOT to burn off my eyebrows, and set out to fire up the grill! It was a roaring success, though I think I may buy frozen burgers next time since my homemade ones, though delicious, were more of a hamburger hash by the time they made it to the bun. But, as my dad used to tell us when we were kids, it all ends up in the same place!
Last night's hot dogs came out looking better, and I even grilled some pineapple afterwards to eat with ice cream. It all sounds rather tame, I know, but I figured I'd start out simply and work my way up to harder things. Tomorrow I'll marinate some chicken, and before you know it, I'll be enjoying perfectly grilled steaks. If you can't tell, I'm rather pleased with myself.
And now that I've learned this new skill, there is a sister-skill I feel almost equipped to tackle...the smoker. If I can uncover the secrets of perfect, slow-smoked ribs and brisket, I will have no more need for the Captain's services.
Well, not where summer grilling is concerned, anyway.