April 23, 2007
I don’t touch our barbeque ever. I think I did turn it on one time last year but I broke out in a nervous sweat and had major heart palpitations, so that was the one and only time. And it’s for good reason I should be afraid, very afraid.
I just had to have a barbequed steak, cooked by none other than my husband, who really does know how to cook a piece of cow. I trotted off to the grocery store and decided to get us decent steaks. I picked out a nice t-bone for him and a ribeye for myself. They even looked yummy in the package. Well except for the rawness and the blood. But hell, if you can look past that and not listen to the moo-ing, then you’re all set.
I arrive home with my proud purchases, my mouth practically watering at the thought of eating my steak. Hubby fires up the Q (no pun intended or maybe it was totally intended…anyhoo….) and as it’s heating up, I make some side dishes and salad and can hear my stomach growling. I beat it and tell it to be patient, that you will get your steak bizatch, but honestly, enough of the roaring.
Mr Man throws the steaks on the barbeque and takes a call that has come in. He leaves the room for a few minutes and I don’t question him about ignoring the steaks, as he’s cooked alot of them over the years and always does a great job. He comes back upstairs a few minutes later to check the steak and the flames coming out of the barbeque don’t look quite normal. And neither do our steaks. Mine was okay, not quite ruined but his t-bone was charred on one side. Wow, I’m thinking, that’s never happened before, that he ruined a steak. We sit down to eat our
charcoal steaks and as we’re sitting there, I glance out at the deck and wonder why the barbeque is still smoking? Hubby assures me it’s just because it’s still hot and the wind had picked up a bit. Okay. I’ll believe that.
Hubby gets up to get more water and as he’s coming back to the table, he looks out the patio door and says, ‘hmmm I think the barbeque is on fire’. He’s so frigging matter of fact about it. Oh no problem, it’s a barbeque, it’s supposed to be on fire right? No. Not really. He goes out onto the deck and lifts up the barbeque cover and sure enough, there are huge flames flaring up. This can’t be good.
OMG what are we going to do? Should I call the fire department?
Ummm no, it’ll burn out eventually.
What? And in the meantime, we should just sit here and eat while our barbeque is on fire? Shit,what if it blows up? Panic is setting in. I’m actually afraid of barbeque’s blowing up, ’cause that happens all the time’.
It’s not going to blow up. Do you think I’d be standing this close to it if I thought it was going to blow up?
I don’t know. Maybe you’re a barbeque daredevil. I really think I should call the fire department.
Ah no, that would be silly. It will go out.
I don’t think so, look at the flames. Did you turn the gas off? OMG are you sure it’s not going to blow up? It’s so on fire that you can’t even reach down to turn off the gas! What if it blows up? I’m not sitting here any longer. I inch my way away from the table, head towards the bedrooms.
Where are you going? You’re not going to eat? Come on, the barbeque isn’t going to blow up.
Yes it is. I can just tell. Look at those flames. And that tank has propane in it. Propane blows up, I know it. Panic is making my voice high pitched and totally annoying.
Get a grip. It’s not going to blow up. Oh look at that, 2 of the knobs have melted right off.
OMG see?????????????? Melting knobs, flames, then BOOM. I can feel it. I’m calling 911.
No you’re not calling 911. Be reasonable. You’re getting freaky now, it’s not going to blow up.
Okay, sure and when we’re all laying here in a pile of dust and debris, I’m going to kick you right in the balls for letting us blow up.
Okay, you do that.
We watched as our $650 barbeque (that I got for a fabulous deal and paid only $399! Okay I digress…….) got nice and black on one side and as the flames died down a bit, hubby got some water to throw on it, which we both knew was not the right thing to do but at that point, I wanted the flames out. I was near hysterics and was practically packing the kids up and heading out the front door because I was so afraid. I think I was being
totally fucking slightly irrational but I couldn’t help it. I’m a freak like that. Things blowing up seem like a real possibility to me especially when, you know, THEY’RE ON FIRE. So much for having a nice steak in the near future.