THE POOPLOOP.COM

F NO to BBQ This Year

F NO to BBQ this year. First time EVER.

The heat melts you from the inside out. I’m dragging out all this gooky crap to hubby to cook, the sticky grimy gook, congealed in slime, the condiments that just ROLL ON OUT.

The sides — beans, potato salad, coleslaw, corn, pasta salad, dips — ALL of it hauled out in volcanic heat. Lest we forget the bean, any other sides we may make ourselves or buy — and MUCH MORE.

Napkins, plates, plastic cutlery — nice or MEH — I agonize either way. Decorating the outside table while keeping the inside clean too.

The outside table is STONE TILE — becomes a literal griddle in the heat. It’s bull$hit on a hot stone tile — which is OMG what my outside table is made of — SNAP.

I live among carnage and carnivores and am a meager lil omnivore. Meat repulses me — the smell, the sight. I have diverticulitis AND lactose intolerance, so I can’t eat most of it anyway.

I have had THREE hand surgeries — need one more — and STILL do the FN dishes. I host EVERY holiday, EVERY year, ALL THE YEARS. I am played out.

This year: too hot, felt sick to stomach all day, did 2 loads of wash, made the bed, hosted son and his wife, only got in the pool ONCE on the 4th of July.

Husband LOVES to BBQ — it’s HIS thing. Oldest son does too. I love that about them. Husband was not happy at first but I said TOO HOT.

Husband made heroes instead — it was wonderful — he saved the day.

I want to KEEP the love — just lose the martyrdom.

The dream: hubby and son get their grill zone, I get my peaceful patio corner with a cold drink under the Montana sky.