Okay, no one is gonna believe me when I say that I don't know how to grill. Yep, you heard me. Other than plugging in my George Foreman, I do not have a clue how to use a barbeque grill. Open flame scares the poo out of me.
That is, until this evening. My friend asked me to come to the ball fields and help set up the concession stand for tonight's games. I sliced tomatoes, onions, and lettuce. Got the chips and candies all filled up and got the cash register ready. Then, the guy who was gonna cook the burgers, hotdogs, and chicken breasts called and said he was running late. Someone now has to do his job. You guessed it, grilling. I didn't even know how to turn the durn thang on. But now, I'm hooked. I want a gas grill. I LOVE the taste of grilled chicken and hamburgers and hot dogs. I'm ready. So, I think I'm gonna ask my sweet husband if Santa can bring me a grill for my back porch.