BBQ

After years of owning no form of outdoor cooking device other than a camping stove, I have suddenly joined the ranks of people who stand at the edge of their garage in winter, carrying food back and forth between kitchen and outside, searing meat and vegetables. And it is good. Got Lee the world’s cutest gas grill for Valentine’s, but just got time and room in the garage this weekend. The joy of not stinking up the house with the smell of The Other White Meat!

False Spring came over the weekend, and took with it our snow cover, so now we’re deep into the mud season after months of pleasant whiteness (despite our general lack of snow, we’ve had snow cover since December). The neighbor was out in his yard, trying to smooth out the ruts he’d made by parking his plow on his lawn. He was attempting to do this with his boots, so it was fun to watch. Me, following the old ’60s tourism mantra, I tried to Discover The Garage and was largely successful. At least, successful enough to set up the new grill.

Did you know there’s a place called Hot Springs, Arkansas, and that I have to go there next month? Did you further know that Arkansas is plopped down square on top of Louisiana? As a lifelong Northeasterner, I’m afraid I had to look at a map to get a solid sense of just exactly which one was Arkansas, though I think I would have gotten it by process of elimination. Their state quarter, as I recall, featured a diamond and a duck, which must have meant they could only dream of having someone of Helen Keller’s stature (see Alabama’s quarter) from their state. Time for a little culture shock. Maybe I’ll get a chance to try out my French!