In most ways I'm tres girly. I love pink, feel naked without pretty coloured toe- and finger-nails, I squeal, I giggle... but over the years I've realised that I do some blokey things. For example, I always leap into the driver's seat whenever we head out. I love driving, whereas my hubby has no real opinion on it - so I'm the driver. I also take on the traditionally masculine arena of the bbq - wielding tongs like any good Aussie bloke. Not for any real reason - just because I like cooking. However, on the weekend we bought a new barbeque. A real big, boofy, blokey barbie. The hulking great stainless steel machine you see in this post is coming to live at our house this weekend, and I think my husband's in love. I'm pretty sure he has visions of roasting sides of wildebeast on the rotisserie, sizzling large hunks of steak on the racks and allowing butterflied legs of lamb to slowly brown under his ministrations.
Can't say I blame him.
I think that that grill is enough to make any man look twice with jaw dropped and drool spilling. Heck, I'm even drooling.
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