In the past week or two I have found myself questioning whether the air conditioning has been working. I have been sweating while folding laundry and doing craft projects. Therefore, vacuuming and mopping are totally out of the question (at least that's what I say).
Last Sunday while Addie and Ry played in the blow-up pool, Rick, Andy and I had the genius idea of putting the hose nozzel on mist, propping it up on a table aimed at us.
Fabulous. Refreshing. Downright lovely.
Lounging in the sun, drinking beer, talking about dinner.
In the words of Rick (or Andy, seriously, what would I know, I had consumed two beers), our backyard was like "Vegas, but without the sl**ty chicks".
Perfection, in my eyes (beyond a backyard water mister) is summer grilling, and luckily for me, I married a grill master. Yes, I dubbed him that, but so have most of his family and 99 percent of our friends. Grilled pork tenderloin. Grilled shrimp. Grilled Smitty potatoes. He's grilled a frozen pizza and hot wings and peaches. He's grilled juicy burgers, and brats, and metts, and turds (0nly our turds also have pulled-freaking-pork). He truly makes outdoor cooking and eating AWESOME.
He was away again the last few days, but made up for it tonight by grilling tri-tips to go with our corn and salad. And last Sunday, after sitting in the mist and sweating during croquet, he grilled another perfect dinner: Citrus dill/mint chicken and zucchini salad. Yum, husband, yum.
I love the grill, Addie loves the grill, and more importantly, we live with a griller. We have plans the next two nights for dinner, but come Sunday that Webber better ready to work.