It's Normal, I Told Myself

Winter and spring in Minnesota are different in just about every way. Sometime around April, before the air stays warm after sundown, a flurry of interest centers around a ritual known to make grown men cry, dogs to drool more than usual and women to tread softly. It causes a stir on the social calendar. From winter we roll right into the Season of the Grill. 

For those of us on KP, it's a cherished time. Tin foil around broccoli, tin foil around salmon and tin foil around potatoes means scant dishwashing. For those who savor the grilled taste, it's season o' plenty. And for some, it's a way of life. 

Like for Bob, our next door neighbor. I met him for the first time this past week, but already knew more about him than I let on. He likes to grill. Not the easy knob-twist-gas-grill-type. He's hardcore-lets the charcoal reach a good white hot before searing carne. And we're not talking once a week. We're not even talking once a day. On numerous occasions in the past month or so my nostrils have flared for the unmistakable aroma...at breakfast, lunch and then dinner. No kidding. You go, Bob. Grill on. Carry on the tradition of the Season of the Grill.