There's a smell in the air.

Day before yesterday I was working in my front yard when the little guy, Patrick discovered me.  He and his dad were working in their back yard.

I could tell from the smattering of conversation I could hear, dad didn't really want Patrick to interrupt me.  However, within a few minutes Patrick (I think he snuck away) and I were chatting at my fence in the front yard.

As we conversed he told me his grandparents were coming to visit, that they had a dog, a Dachshund.  I already knew that, but we talked about the dog as though I didn't.

It was not long before I could hear Patrick's mother talking, and Patrick 'split' for home.

Later in the afternoon, I was in my office working and I heard voices in the yard next door.  I didn't even get up to look up, but I could tell something was 'afoot'.  I heard scuffles, as though a large box was being pushed about.  I heard tools dropping on the deck.  The bits of conversation I could hear, told me something was going to be constructed.

I knew grandma and grandpa had arrived because while I was still working out front I saw a truck I didn't recognize park in front of their house.  So, I figured what ever was being put together must have been a gift from them.  I was curious, but didn't want them to think I was 'spying', so I simply continued to work. 

Once the noise next door stopped, I immediately stood up (I am nosey, not dead) to see what 'new thing' had been added to the toys on their deck.

Oh my, mmmm, mmmm, mmmmm.

It was mag-nif-i-cent.  It was gor-geous.  It was a bar-be-cue.

Now, I'm not really sure what I expected to see, but it was certainly not a barbecue.  In all the time they have lived next to me, I think maybe once, possibly twice, I have seen a barbecue going on.  And, if memory serves, the barbecue itself was simply one of those tiny, black, pot-bellied ones, the kind everybody has, mine has been sitting on an overhead shelf in the garage for over eleven years now.

But, I digress.

Oh, I imagined big things were going to happen yesterday in that yard next door.  Laughter.  Games.  While that big, bright, barbecue wafted the smell of specially seasoned steak through the summer air. 

I wanted to see that bad boy BBQ at work.  I mean, that baby has shiny, chrome knobs, work shelves on either side of the grill area to hold mysterious sauces, aluminum covered veges, and an open can of beer.  Oh, and it has a propane tank bigger than a basketball.  The only thing that's missing is a bell to call everybody together to eat.  It is a thing of beauty, a sight to behold.

So, it was with great anticipation I waited for the 4th of July activities to begin...

and I waited....

and I waited....

I got 'nuttin'.

Imagine my disappointment?  Imagine that barbeque's disappointment? 
There it sat.  All alone!  Forlorn!  Untouched, colder than an ice cube in a glass of lemonade.  Oh, woe, woe, woe.

Okay, here's the thing.  Men...how often do you really barbecue?  Once, maybe twice a year?  Why do you barbecue?  Because you like it?  Because it makes you 'manly'?  Because you get to drink beer in the back yard?   Because your wife makes you?

Oh, trust me, it's not because your wife makes you.  Cause, when you use it, it is extra work for her.  She has to make salads, shuck corn, set up the picnic table, haul stuff from the kitchen out of doors, and then haul all the stuff back in doors after the barbecue event is over. 

Sure, twice a year the men get to do their 'manly-men' thing, ARRR, ARRR, ARRR,
as Tim the Tool Man used to say.  But, except for Tim, do ordinary men, really,
really, REALLY, REALLY like barbecuing that much they need a barbecue the size of a football field just to slap a few hunks of meat on it and shout ARRR, ARRR, ARRR?

I don't think so.  All right...so I've rained on your parade.  Honest, if BBQing is your thing...go for it, what ever size your BBQ is...and, do it as often as you desire.  It's all good. 

But, before you go spending a lot of money, A LOT OF MONEY on a new barbecue, check in with your wife.  I'm betting a hundred bucks, she'd much rather have a weekend at the Ritz for the same amount of money. 

Think about it.