"And so, in honor of the laborer, we do hereby create Labor Day. It shall be a day of rest, upon which the laborer may eat, watch TV, and nap liberally and unashamedly." ~ An unknown 21st Century blogger
I hope you all had a wonderful Labor Day. My day began at the crack of 11:45 AM, with the first order of business being grill assembly. Well, actually the first order of the day was eating a toaster strudel, followed by the second order of the day, showering. But you get the idea.
Once I unpacked the grill and unfolded the instructions, I saw that there were no words, just pictures. Tiny diagrams filled with numbers, dotted lines, and arrows. It looked like a cross between a blueprint and a rebus.
Assaying the situation, I knew that what I had hoped to be a late lunch was most likely going to turn into supper. Or at the very least, lupper. It was an accurate assumption on my part.
The grill was completed around 2:00. It felt good to have assembled something and for once in my life not have any parts or pieces left over. I feel things like this prepare me for when I begin to replenish the Earth with my seed and have to assemble things like cribs, swingsets, and diapers.
Now that the grill was standing on four legs and did not appear as if it was going to fall, it was time to put on my proverbial chef's hat and begin my transformation to Grillmaster B (not to be confused with Grandmaster B, Thighmaster B, or Bed Wetter B).
Every man believes he has an innate and extraordinary talent for grilling, that within each of us lies an ability to achieve pyro-culinary greatness. And I am no different.
There seem to be fewer opportunities in this day and age for a man to find his inner caveman, but grilling is one of those. There is something inherently manly about cooking over an open fire. Something very primitive about providing food for the entire cave.
Standing there yesterday donning my khaki Gilligan hat, wielding a set of tongs in one hand and wearing a decorative pot holder on the other, I can honestly say that I've rarely felt more like a man.
For yesterday, I grilled.
Then I napped.
I am man. Hear me snore.
"And as I think back, makes me wonder how the smell from a grill could spark up nostalgia..."