BBQing in the rain

My late father was not a fair-weather BBQ man. They loved their BBQ, Mom & Dad. I remember once going with dad to make wine. We entered a draw. He ended up winning our fancy-schmancy BBQ.

I used it well during the 3-day power outage in August, 2006. We perked coffee on the side burner. (August is the time for tornados!) Dad was fretting in his retirement home, phoning me while the wind whipped the leaves horizontally across our picture windows, and Dad was upset that the TV wasn't working. He had dementia at that point.

Well, the family joke is that Dad BBQs in the rain, lashed to the deck, with bears having to be beaten off with a stick.

Now, we know it is not true. But it is fun.

I recall sending Brian off outside to BBQ one day. He was reluctant.

I said, "My Dad BBQ'd in the rain!"

"Yes," he replied, "but your mother was neat.""

Enough said. I married my 'mother', a neat freak, but with the added benefit of a minimalist sense of style.

Well, sure enough, it looked to be raining yesterday. We've spent days getting the house ready to sell. Decluttering, cleaning, putting excess furniture in a storage locker, vaccuuming and washing everything that didn't move. It would be good to BBQ, diminish the clean-up.

I told Brian he hast to BBQ. As I pointed out, "I'm neat, now!"

The only issue was the mosquitoes who plague Brian. He wore his trusty desert hat. Ready for the trek at any time.