Give a man a grill and you give 'em the world

CINCINNATI - Just what is it about a man and his grill?

Last weekend my husband finally bought the grill of his dreams. He had been suffering for years standing at what was a rusting bucket holding burned up charcoal dust. It swayed every time a breeze hit that old grill. It was sad, pathetic and worn out.

So, he did his research and bucked up and bought a big one—a big, shiny, fabulous grill. And when I say big, I mean it's really big. Like, he could cook for the troops on that thing.

But more importantly, it has tons of buttons, knobs and drawers. A treasure trove of "stuff my hubby loves". He is after all known as "the gadget king" in our house. He must have shown me how the inside lights up (for grilling in the dark, don’t-cha know) a dozen times. He walked me through how the rotisserie works and how easily the burners light.

He was like a kid in a candy store, if the candy store were made of stainless steel and propane.

I found the timing of this purchase fascinating. I had just suggested that we have people over for a cookout on what was to be a glorious weekend weather-wise. His eyes widened. His palms got sweaty and his mouth dry. And two days later, the giant grill arrived.

Now, I can't say I blame him. I mean, he's been toiling at what was an awful grill for far too long. But I guess I just marvel at men’s love for all things power tools (and yes, I'm putting grills in this category). Give my husband a chainsaw, and he's a happy man. He may not know how to use it, but he's pounding his chest and looking for a flannel shirt in his drawer. Back off girls, he's all mine.

I suppose it's similar to my love of purses or shoes or throw pillows for the couch. I can't have enough and I get jazzed every time I find one that's just perfect. Perhaps the big difference is, I don't give tours of my shoe rack to everyone who comes to our house.

Yes, tours were given of the grill at the party.

Back off girls, I told you, he's all mine.