We've had the grill since we moved into our house three years ago now. I refused to touch it. Refused, in fact, to go near it until early spring when Scott insisted I learn how to turn it on.
Luckily for all of us, the instructions on turning this machine on are also on the grill itself. Yet, still, I held my breath.
When it was time to hit the ingite button, I scooted as far back as humanly possible so that only the EDGE of my finger was near enough to be singed off when the entire thing exploded. I mean, let's face it, I would NOT look cute sans eyebrows.
In a frightening WHOOSH, the thing was alive and I was cooking with gas.
I managed to burn neither myself nor my dinner.
I was pretty damn proud of myself. But also still totally petrified of the grill.
During another heat spell here in Minnesota, I bucked up. Because I telecommute, I am the one who is responsible for at least getting dinner started. And there was no way said dinner was going to be made in my house.
Having not experienced my first success at the grill, I was excited to show Scott what I knew. And to my delight, so was he. In fact, three grilled meals later, he declared me a Grill Mastress.
For Father's Day I suggested we grill and asked him what he wanted. He gave me the menu and then dropped this little bomb: he was turning the tongs over to me!
You read that right, the man told me I was a better griller than he, and that I should go with my strengths.
My strengths being, I think, an ability to not open the grill to check on meat 100 times in five minutes, therefore regulating the grill temperature to some degree of accuracy.
Anyway, I was only too glad to take the task on, feeling like kind of a badass. Kind of like the first time in my single life I used an electric drill and did a Tim Allen grunt before putting together my Target bookshelf.
You know who wasn't glad? Scott's dad. HORRIFIED, in fact. Throughout the entire dinner, he just kept shaking his head and said "can't believe you turned grilling over to your wife. It's the only thing we men can do other than sit and drink beer."
Well, no argument on the latter part, anyway.
My husband shrugged his shoulders, complimented me on an awesome kabob, and went about his beer drinking.
That, my friends, is why I married this man. Secure enough in his manhood to occasionally give me good shoe advice and gracious enough to let the best man win in the grilling war.
Who does the grilling in your house? Safe to say I'll be grilling our 4th food. What's on your menu this glorious LONG WEEKEND??