Monday Mis-Haps!!

Well....it started using this....

And ended with Mr. Goose Poop calling his mom thanking her for giving him the fire extinguishers all those years ago!! **Thanks mom!!**

You see, last Thursday I was going to grill some brats for dinner. For the record...I grill alot. I do most of the grilling around here. Not because Mr. Goose Poop isn't capable, quite the contrary...he's a great griller. But because Mr. Goose Poop usually works late, I usually man the grill around here. (Shot out to my dad...he taught me to be a master griller!!) So, what I'm saying is...this isn't my first grilling rodeo.

A few weeks ago, it was Carter's birthday, and the birthday kids always gets to choose his/her birthday dinner. Carter chose "chicken on a bone" as we like to call it. Or as most call it, chicken drumsticks. My family uses my grandpa's famous recipe....brushing on melted butter and lots and lots of salt during grilling. C'mon humor me....it's famous now!!

Anyway, point is...the grill was greasy and there was little bits of chicken meat stuck to the grates. But there always is after chicken. So I'm getting ready to grill brats, and I do what I always do. Turn on the grill, and let it burn off the chicken. Then I go out to wire brush the grates...like I always do. Always. For 10 years I've been doing this without a problem. Well...I can't say that anymore!

So I turn on the grill...like I always do...and let it burn off. I go in the house to open the brats and put them on a platter. As I'm standing in the kitchen, I see lots of smoke. Not unusual. I mean, I'm burning off chicken grease and chicken nasty, right? It's gunna smoke some. (By the way, in the mean time, Mr. Goose Poop got home from work early, and is across the street helping some neighbors lay some bricks.) I hear the kids yelling that the grill is smoking really bad. I ignore them, I already knew that. Then I hear them yell it's on fire. I think they think (did ya get that?!?) smoke automatically equals fire. I ignore them. I look out the window, and think there is an unusual amount of smoke in front of my window, so I poke my head out the door to re-assure myself I'm right and my kids are wrong.

WRONG!! The whole damn grill was on fire. I'm talking flames here people. Engulfed!! The whole thing. Flames are shooting out from under the lid, out the sides, from the bottom grease dripper holes, in very close proximity to the propane tank. I reach thru the flames and shut off the burners thinking if there's no gas feeding the fire, it'll surely die out. Nope. In fact, the flames got bigger.

I act all cool, calm, and collected. I yell across the street to Mr. Goose Poop. "Hey babe, can you come here a second?" "Yup, hang on!" he calls. "Um, I don't really have a second, I need you here right now!" I yell, watching the flames reach the wood railing on my deck and inching closer to the siding on my house.

Just then, on of the kids decided to yell that the grill is on fire. Mr. Goose Poop runs at an alarming speed. Let me explain here...Mr. Goose Poop has been victim of two house fires. Not just little stove fires, but get-your-ass-out-right-now-call-911 living in a hotel for months fire. I've never seen the man run as fast as he did last Thursday!! He was across the street in .00045 seconds.

He tries to reach under the grill to get the propane off. No deal, it's screwed into place. Now he's yelling for the kids to back up. I'm thinking to myself "shit...it's gunna blow at any moment, I'm going to loose my legs, and my dear husband is going to loose an eye. I'll still love him though," I'm thinking to myself. He yells at me to get the fire extinguisher. I run, more like sprint, into the house. Now I'm feeling like a fire man, "gotta save the day, gotta save the house, gotta save my hubby's eyes, my legs." I bolt to not the closest fire extinguisher, I run it outside. It was something like a movie. I throw the cylinder at Mr. Goose Poop, he fumbles with it for a second, pulls the pin out, throws it over his shoulder like a super hero would, and pulls the duck like trigger.

**POOF** the fire's out! Just like that! But we were left with a yellow-y powder-y mess all over our grill, deck, and driveway!! The thermostat goes to 700 degrees, and let me tell you...it was buried. And took awhile to not be buried!! The paint had melted off in some spots from the extreme heat!

For the record, I still wanted to use the grill. Mr. Goose Poop told me, in a few less words, that I was crazy, and there was no way were were turning that grill on again until it's been cleaned out, and the fire extinguisher dust is cleaned off. What?? I hate brats fried in a pan! Grilled are so much more yummier!!

Lord help me with my "Monday Miss-Haps!" Since I've been doing this little gig...my van's been hit and I've lit a grill on fire!! In all my 30 1/2 years of life I've never been in an accident or set a grill, or anything for that matter, on fire! Surely, I've jinxed us and we are doomed for misfortunate happenings for the rest of our ever living lives!!