Thank you all so much for all of your grill recommendations. I’m planning a trip to Lowes, armed to the teeth with useful grill information.
A gas grill is something that I cannot fathom living without during the summer months here in Armpit, Florida. Mostly due to the oppressive 156 degree heat index, and of course, hurricane preparedness.
Which I just found out that I’m woefully ill prepared for.
Tonight as we were preparing to tuck the children in for the night, the unthinkable happened. We lost electricity.
Before the benefit of dessert.
We have a hard and fast rule here in the House of Fiddle, that if the electricity goes out, no one is to open the refrigerator or freezer. Under penalty of death.
We have suffered through some pretty decent hurricanes in this house, and we have yet to ever lose electricity. Yet tonight, we received a few sprinkles after months of drought, and over 2000 of our closest neighbors found themselves in the dark.
I don’t pretend to understand how these things work. I just like to know that when I flip a light switch, a light will actually come on.
I’m the type of person that really needs her electricity, as I’m not a fan of the dark. Reason #346 why I wouldn’t last 10 minutes on “Survivor.” Or camping. You know, in the real wilderness.
When the lights inexplicably went out, I gave strict orders to the girls to stay on my bed, so as to avoid their tender feet being impaled by matchbox cars and Polly Pocket body parts. Fiddledaddy and I set out to search for the flashlights.
We knew the location of the other by the sounds of breaking priceless family heirlooms. And the muffled cursing from stepping on matchbox cars and Polly Pocket body parts.
We made it to the laundry room, where the flashlights are housed. We keep two heavy duty flashlights there. The kind that are powerful enough to signal Batman.
They were both dead. After further searching, I unearthed two smaller flashlights, only one of which worked. The other needed batteries. Which by happy coincidence we did indeed have.
When you add a boy child to your house, you tend to store all types and sizes of batteries. To power the Superheros and their killing machines.
Oh. And a small boy’s night light which plays “Twinkle Twinkle LIttle Star.” Ad nauseum. He’s a conundrum. My boy.
Once the flashlights were powered up, the candles were dispensed. As was the flame thrower. Causing little children to scatter in horror.
As they can never forget the Great Grill Explosion of ‘08 either.
I just hope we can afford a group rate on therapy.
After about 45 minutes or so, the troops were starving and began raiding the pantry in search of rations. Even though they had all eaten a very big and filling dinner just 2 hours prior. Boxes of cereal were opened, and cups were filled with all manner of Cheerios and Rice Chex.
And somehow, all rules went out the window when I found all 3 children in the master suite, eating their cereal selections ON MY SIDE OF THE BED while watching “Madagascar” on the battery operated DVD player.
It was just like a scene out of “Little House on the Prairie.” And I was Ma Ingalls, frantically searching for her cordless Dust Buster.
More time went by, and finally the lights were restored.
Emme lamented, “I wish the lights hadn’t come back on. It was just like it must have been in Felicity’s day.” (Felicity is the American Girl character who lived a million years ago. In the dark ages.)
Yes, it was just like that. Felecity probably had to live without her ice cream bar, too.