People tell me all the time I look like my mother. I inherited her nose and her eyes. I also inherited her wit and smartass personality. There is one thing, however I got from my father which may top all of those traits. I grill like my dad.
When I say I grill like my dad, I don’t just mean the way the meat tastes, I am including all of my mannerisms as well. From the way I marinade the meat, to the way I keep walking into the house yelling “ten more minutes” (when I actually have no idea how long it will really be because I time the meat on whether or not I need another beer), to they way I clean my plate after I throw the meat on the grill, to the way I talk to myself while I am grilling, to the way I believe you can grill out no matter the weather (snowing, raining, sunny, hail storms, etc…), to the way I think beer and cigarettes are as crucial as the tongs, I am truly my father’s daughter.
I think this all hit me last night when I walked into my apartment and yelled “ten more minutes”. The weird part was that I was the only one home.
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