Poor Kyle got to sleep in. I had my errands to run. And when we got back together, we had a cookout.
One day, over a year ago, I stood next to Poor Kyle on the back deck of his newly purchased home in Mayberry. It was Autumn, we’d just gotten engaged, the weather was nice, and we had great expectations of all the bonfires we’d host in our fire pit…once we were married.
Who’d have thought we’d actually arrive at this point? The point where we’re starting fires of our own free will, and not just to collect homeowners’ insurance. But because we’re so inclined. To look at them. And cook with them. And burn our trash.
And I feel sorry for you, since none of you were invited to our impromptu dinner. So I’ll give you a recap, in photos:
Poor Kyle was there (looking not unlike Napoleon Dynamite, in my opinion). My husband is a stud…
…see any resemblances?
Poor Kyle wasn’t happy when I pointed out the uncanny coincidence. I don’t suppose I can blame him.
The fire pit–well on its way to becoming our favourite place to cook.
The Log. The Log is for food preparation and extra seating. The Log is not for burning, despite common thought processes.
These may look like wieners, but in fact they are pepperoni sticks. Just a little appetizer while the coals got hot. Because when we cook out, we do it in style. Appetizers, cocktails, palate cleansers…the whole shebang.
Of course I should take a photo of my husband’s bottom. I like it.
I was there, too, of course. But the only evidence you’ll get are the photos of my garden. Which, given all the blood, sweat and tears that have gone into my garden lately, it might as well be me.
But just in case you wanted solid proof, there I am. (I’m skinnier in my shadow, which is a blessing, given all the chocolate-covered strawberries I ate for breakfast. And lunch.) My skinny-ish shadow is covering the corn. Only you can’t see anything but dirt because I only planted a few days ago. And evidently, it takes longer than two days for corn to grow. What a rip-off.
If you look closely, you can see the word “CORN” etched laboriously into this copper marker. That’s where I planted corn. Clever, I know.
And this can is what I use to water my tender little transplants. Not that it’s doing any good at all, since I think I already killed the basil:
It’s looking a little peakish.
Then again, that could be because of my weeds. They’re pretty monstrous. I’ve gotten a lot, though. A quad trailer full, anyway:
See?
Die, monster weeds!
…today, being married was fun. We have a fire pit. We have a garden. And we’re going camping this weekend, because that’s what ambitious newlyweds do with their first long weekend of Spring.
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