This week’s blog is dedicated to my favorite guy…my hubby Jerry…so read on my friends…
A Man and His Grill…
Last weekend was Father’s Day and my husband Jerry–an old-fashioned manly man–had to grill. Not wanted to grill, HAD to grill. Like it was some primordial need which, if he didn’t meet, would mean his man-card wouldn’t be stamped for the day.
Now I love my hubby and his need to experience cave man things, but when it comes to feeding the family, I have to admit I have difficulty stepping aside. Cooking is my job, my own love language, my way of serving my family.
So when Jerry decides the meat needs to be grilled, I’ve learned over the years that there’s more going on than charred chicken. My husband needs to grill because he needs to serve. And the best way I can show him my love is to put away my controlling words and step aside. But as you will see from the exchange below, being respectful is sometimes lost in my sarcasm. At least I’m funny.
How come, in a conversation with a man, there’s always a sexual undertone? Luckily, I can give back tenfold.
Mary (outside, near the grill, where a ball of flame has hit the lower atmosphere): “Hey Babe. What’s going on?” I’m trying to keep both fear and nagging out of my voice. I’m trying to be ultra-cool. I’m trying not to stomp on the embers which land on our wood deck.
Jerry (pulling off the charcoal chimney more suited to an outdoor firepit than a Walmart 20” x 20” grill) “Getting ready to grill, lamby-pie. Can you hand me the lighter fluid?”
Mary (furrowing brow and making sure the garden hose is nearby): “You know I hate when you call me that. And why do you need the lighter fluid? I can hear the fire trucks in the distance.”
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