‘Tis The Season

When we got married and began looking for apartments, I told Dave, “All I ask is that the apartment have a dishwasher whose name isn’t Lyz.”

We got one. It sucked. But we used it because, while Dave and I can together face cancer, car accidents and renovating a bathroom, the dishes destroy us.

But there is the rub, the spicy delicious rub. We love to eat. And I love to cook. Garlic aioli. Lemon ricotta pasta. New potatoes with dill. Homemade pizza. Pie. pie and more pie. And all of these things take dishes. A lot of dishes.

So many dishes.

 

 

I don’t think I can stress enough how enormously lazy we are when it comes to dishes. Let me put it this way. We will spend upwards of $30 and drive all the way across town to buy a good pizza. And I have spent seven years testing, trying and perfecting my pizza dough/sauce/cheese and baking combination. But what happens to the dishes that result from those efforts? Well, they’ll probably be named in the divorce settlement that will occur after our dishwasher inevitably breaks and we run out of cups.

(ME: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE THIRSTY!? DRINK FROM YOUR HANDS!

Dave: *Licks rainwater off the sidewalk*)

But guess what? IT’S MOTHER FREAKING GRILLING SEASON! The time when meat and everything goes on the grill. Dishes don’t get dirty and magic is in the air.

Magic.

But there is one problem. Grilling utensils.

Before we were married, my parents bought Dave this grill cooking center. And as a present for our wedding, I bought him grilling utensil with oak handles and a carrying case, which under no circumstances can be put in the dishwasher. And sure, file this under first-world problems and then ask me about how my venti mocha burned my wittle tongue, but when we tried out the Grill Daddy, which can be put in the dishwasher…Well, Dave busted out polo that was NOT blue to celebrate. (He’s so wild.)

 

This may be the best summer of my life.

FESS UP! What are you ridiculously lazy about?

 

I did receive a Grill Daddy grilling utensil. But the opinion is mine, unless of course you factor in that I’m just a puppet of the Illuminati…then…well…PROBLEMS!


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