Patrons of the Pit

Amid the lingering piles of snow, I sat out by the pit, like men do,  enjoying the last sunbeams of the day. Nothing was on the grill tonight, as I didn’t have time really. We had to be somewhere in 45 minutes, and I had thus released the option of grilling tonight; something  just not in the roll of the BBQ dice.  But as the black-capped chickadee lit upon my bird feeder, I noted out of the corner of my eye, the little Weber standing stoically in place, childishly straddling its mountainous pan of ash. It was giving me the look again, the one it always gives me, every time I step out onto the patio. Like puppy dogs or cute babies, the grill knows how to work me, how to manipulate me, and eventually, how to get its way. I look at the clock. I look at the grill. Back…

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About jordanjaybrodsky

I'm a emotionally, spiritually, and physically fit resident of our crazy pebble-of-a-planet. A spiritual being enjoying a human experience. A recovered alcoholic active in my recovery community, I share my experiences and thoughts in hopes that something I offer makes a difference in someone's life. Or at least makes someone smile. Thanks for letting me share of myself. I appreciate the opportunity.
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