My Small, Grilled Victory.
I win. Want to know why? I successfully started a gas grill with no supervision! To be completely honest with all of you, I have this ridiculous fear that one day I would have been so clumsy to the point that I’d influenced complete devastation around everyone in closest proximity to me; like catastrophic levels.
Ever since I was a kid I’ve had the roughest time with accomplishing any task without getting hurt in some form or fashion. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. The last handful of posts probably have some reference to my shoulder injury I’ve been dealing with all summer. It’s just turning fall in Indiana and I’m JUST now able to hit the weights again. I feel so behind, but what can you do? Always listen to your body…
…it’s a kind of intuition, right?! Well, my intuition has always told me “stay the hell away from that explosive-ass’d propane tank! Are you crazy?!” S has shown me at least twice how to turn the gas on and off and how to ignite the grill. Growing up with charcoal grill skills in Alaska, I have a way different set of grilling knowledge – we never let snow stop us from throwing down on the grill. Slay, I say! So when the time came for me to fire up the monstrosity on my own… I had to take a few deep breaths and tell myself “maybe this isn’t the end.”
I open the hatch exposing the propane tank resting undisturbed in its home under the burners. “Here goes” I think to myself as I reach for the knob. “Turn counterclockwise…” I close my eyes as I perform the simple action. “Alright, we’re in the clear.” I quickly close the hatch as if to race a bomb, seconds away from reaching zero. Turning the knobs and pressing the ignite switch was way less stressful. My neighbors have already seen me do hot yoga on the patio, have the occasional cigar and bourbon in nothing but short-shorts and a tank, and now, probably the gayest-victory-dance ever invoked by the lighting of a grill.
I’m most proud that I didn’t need to wait for S to get home, out of fear of burning down my home. Let’s face it… there’s always a glass of vodka or bourbon not too far away from me when I get home, so I’m sure that would help fuel the fire that inadvertently would have started. My husband has taught me a lot in the almost five years of being with him – more than I can write about, for sure. Starting a gas grill without help proves to me that fear with S is non-existent.