Our Lady of Charbroil

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with Thee...

Today is Father's Day. It is a day of ball games and celebrations and cold beer and barbecues, if you have a grill that is in proper working order.

Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus...

The last time The Man received a grill as a gift, he had to put it together. It was the first and last time we ever took on such a tedious home improvement project together and the first time I can recall ever seeing him lose his temper and throw an object across the room, and it wasn't a piece of styrofoam. Let me put it this way: it rhymes with bench.

Holy Mary, Mother of God.....

I remember ducking and being grateful for the quick reflexes of being a then 34 year-old and said "There is no flipping way on God's green earth I will ever put a grill together with you again. Not no way, not no how." Because I love a God with a very big sense of humor, it seems our now 10 year-old grill seared its final piece of steak last week as there is a leak in the hose running from the propane tank to the grill itself.

What did The Man, a man of very few special requests, desire more than anything for Father's Day?

You got it.

Pray for us sinners.......

It's been a grueling few hours folks at Chez Penni's and I am fearful that that little "snap" on the connecting wire for the ignitor wasn't necessarily a good sound. Since the Phillies' relief pitcher is having as much success with ending the game as The Man is with finishing the grill, I believe that is why he is bellowing my name relief is being summoned from the other room.

Now...

The Man just informed me that he is on his way to Home Depot to get a repair kit (do they really make such things?) rather than return the wire to the store where I purchased it and ask for a replacement from the display model, if need be, rather than disassemble and return the entire grill. That suggestion was well-meaning, but he is in his "don't even think about suggesting anything else" mode and didn't look like the happy guy he was around noontime.

and at the hour of our death.

Maybe these sisters can come help a brother out...

Amen.

7:25 p.m. Edited to add the ultimate irony: We are out of propane.


ha ha ha ha ha!