Beware the propane
I'll chalk this experience up to the "It Only Happens To Me" category of my life. Those of you who know me well know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this category is one of the largest that exists in my life.
Enter Saturday. No rest for the wicked, I had to work both jobs. I call Heather after work because we're heading off to church and after the service we're staying to hear this guest preacher from Texas talk about terrorism but I can never remember what time the Saturday night service starts. She tells me that there is spare steak in her fridge and invites me over because, hey, I'm a chick who can BBQ.
I arrive at her house and she starts on making potatos, baby carrots, and some amazing asparagus amandine. I walk out the sliding glass kitchen door and proceed to open the propane on the BBQ. I hear a hissing noise and lean down towards the grill to give it a sniff and the faint smell of rotten eggs travelled to the olfactory center of my cerebral mass. It was dark and I fiddled with the knobs a bit. Although I recognized that familiar smell of propane I thought "Hey, maybe this is just what this BBQ does" and I attempted to light the sucker.
It was at this point that a fireball the size of the BBQ itself lept forth from the Toews' Family BBQ with an amazing "Poof!" noise and singed off some of my right arm hair. I did not make a peep. Heather, who only heard the grandiose fireball, screamed. As I ran my arm under cold water she, being a good friend, checked my eyebrows and hair for signs of further singing. That's when I informed her that I was almost as scared at that moment as the times when I almost fell off a cliff without a rope. Praise God that it's a funny memory and not the story of "How Lindsey's Face Melted Off".
The rest of the night went off without a hitch and we even sat with the movie star crush (see Heather's blog for more details) at church that night. You also might want to check out Heather's blog for her version of this grand tale. From the BBQ babe who (once again) defeated death, Happy BBQ-ing!
Enter Saturday. No rest for the wicked, I had to work both jobs. I call Heather after work because we're heading off to church and after the service we're staying to hear this guest preacher from Texas talk about terrorism but I can never remember what time the Saturday night service starts. She tells me that there is spare steak in her fridge and invites me over because, hey, I'm a chick who can BBQ.
I arrive at her house and she starts on making potatos, baby carrots, and some amazing asparagus amandine. I walk out the sliding glass kitchen door and proceed to open the propane on the BBQ. I hear a hissing noise and lean down towards the grill to give it a sniff and the faint smell of rotten eggs travelled to the olfactory center of my cerebral mass. It was dark and I fiddled with the knobs a bit. Although I recognized that familiar smell of propane I thought "Hey, maybe this is just what this BBQ does" and I attempted to light the sucker.
It was at this point that a fireball the size of the BBQ itself lept forth from the Toews' Family BBQ with an amazing "Poof!" noise and singed off some of my right arm hair. I did not make a peep. Heather, who only heard the grandiose fireball, screamed. As I ran my arm under cold water she, being a good friend, checked my eyebrows and hair for signs of further singing. That's when I informed her that I was almost as scared at that moment as the times when I almost fell off a cliff without a rope. Praise God that it's a funny memory and not the story of "How Lindsey's Face Melted Off".
The rest of the night went off without a hitch and we even sat with the movie star crush (see Heather's blog for more details) at church that night. You also might want to check out Heather's blog for her version of this grand tale. From the BBQ babe who (once again) defeated death, Happy BBQ-ing!
posted by Lindsey and Mike at 4:12 p.m.
2 Comments:
lindsey,
you can make me bbq any time!
ps...
Salad rolls will never be the same
I'm glad you're okay Linds. Singing off some facial hair is not a good excuse for missing Emerge though. . . :op I missed ya. Hope to see you soon.
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