The irony wasn’t lost on me. After waiting forever for the tri-tip steak to cook over the coals (as we always do), I sliced up the garlic bread, and tossed the salad.  Calling the kids in out of the pool, we passed around paper plates, and settled in to feast.  Summer was made for times …

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Smoke rises and swirls out of the space left ajar from the lid of our trusty Weber BBQ.  I raise the lid, wearing my husband’s welding glove against the heat.  I inspect the coals, which have turned dusty white, save for an orange glow deep within the pile.  The wind shifts a puff of smoke …

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