Tonight was supposed to be brats on the grill.  The girls and I (or, at least, Baby Duck and I) were really looking forward to it.  Then, while on my way to pick up buns and charcoal, I got the call-- the one where E, the household grillmaster, has to go out of town without notice.  Lame!
    Even lamer is the fact that I have never grilled myself.  I have never so much as lit charcoal.  I have been with E nearly my entire adult life.  I took over the kitchen after we got married and I gained some confidence, but outdoors has always been man territory around here.
    But I really want to have these brats for dinner.  That was the plan.  I don't like it when my world has to be turned upside down when E leaves.  I don't want to disappoint Baby Duck.  And after all, I had never used a push mower before last summer...
    So the coals are going and the brats are sizzlin'.  I am a bit nervous, but getting less so by the minute.  I love overcoming the last few lingering bits of dependence I have.  From now on, E will do the grilling because he wants to and not because I can't.

CL